With the fairness of their own keyboards, AFG wasted no time and decisively won the match with a clean 3:0.
Mo Wen: “Let’s congratulate AFG! They are the champions of the ‘8th Chaser Professional League’—truly well-deserved!”
Xiao Xiao: “Where there is oppression, there is resistance. Even under the influence of equipment limitations, AFG demonstrated the resilience of the entire team and their drive for the competition. This made us see even more clearly the hunger these dark wolves have for the championship. The battlefield is ever-changing, but the one thing that remains constant is their unwavering desire to win the championship!”
The commentators grew increasingly excited. This match was practically a battle against capitalism: “Let’s shout out the name of the championship team!”
“AFG!” The roar of the audience surged like a heatwave, pushing the atmosphere in the arena to its peak.
“In the name of the wolf, we climb to the summit!”
“In the name of the wolf, we climb to the summit!”
“In the name of the wolf, we climb to the summit!”
Three chants of the team slogan, each louder than the last.
AFG was a team that won the match with integrity;
Every member of AFG had worked hard for this;
AFG lived up to every fan who came to support them and deserved the title of “professional players.”
The championship—this was what AFG deserved!
For some reason, as Jian Yao listened to these chants, his nose tingled with emotion.
“Boom—”
Golden confetti sprayed from both sides of the stage. All the players and coaches of AFG walked to the center of the stage and, united, lifted the Chaser championship cup that belonged to them.
The cheers of the fans continued. Amidst the sea of golden confetti, Jian Yao still locked eyes with Wen Zhe.
Watching the slight movement of Wen Zhe’s lips as a smile curled at the corners, Jian Yao understood his silent words.
[Happy birthday.]
Happy birthday…
Tears unconsciously slid down Jian Yao’s cheeks. This was the best birthday gift he could have ever received.
Jian Yao tugged at the corners of his mouth, smiling back at Wen Zhe:
[Thank you.]
The lively noise abruptly ceased as the host appeared: “First, let’s congratulate AFG for winning the championship of the ‘8th Chaser Professional League’! Do you have anything you’d like to say to the fans who have supported you?”
Su Ze took the microphone, pretending to be profound with a smug expression: “I suppose everyone expected this, right?”
Laughter erupted from the audience, but everyone played along, responding: “Yes!”
“Although the process was unexpected, the result is more important than the process. No matter how winding the journey, what belongs to AFG will always find its way back to us. Thank you all for accompanying us through this ‘memorable’ finals~!”
As Su Ze spoke, he wore a smile on his face. Everyone thought he was joking, but only those “in the know” understood the true meaning behind his words.
“Thank you for your words, Su Ze,” the host took over. “I’m sure everyone is eager to know who the MVP is?”
“Wen Zhe…”
Jian Yao unconsciously clenched his fists, murmuring softly, his voice drowned out by the fans’ loud shouts of “Wen Zhe”…
“Let’s all guess—who do you think it is?”
“Wen Zhe!!”
“Hahaha, that’s right! It’s exactly who you said!”
“Let’s congratulate AFG.Wen Zhe for winning the MVP of the ‘8th Chaser Professional League’!”
“Well-deserved!”
Cheers and golden rain descended once more as promised. Jian Yao saw Wen Zhe holding something in his right hand.
Amidst the sea of golden rain, a golden ribbon drifted down and landed on Wen Zhe’s open left palm. He carefully placed the ribbon together with the object in his right hand, tenderness spilling from his eyes…
“For this MVP, what would you like to say, Wen Zhe?” The host handed the microphone to Wen Zhe.
Wen Zhe’s face appeared on the big screen. He smiled and opened his right palm: “I think it’s because he’s here.”
The camera quickly zoomed in on Wen Zhe’s right palm, where a crumpled object lay alongside the golden ribbon.
Jian Yao’s heart trembled—he recognized it at a glance.
It was the talisman he had given him.
“Oh? Is this a talisman?” the host asked with interest. “I didn’t expect Wen Zhe to believe in metaphysics too. I see there are characters embroidered on it—could you tell us what they say?”
“Victory in every battle,” Wen Zhe replied unhurriedly. “I used to think it was just superstition, but now I understand: it’s a token of hope.”
Wen Zhe paused for a moment, gazing at the talisman, then let his eyes rest on Jian Yao.
Across the crowd, beyond the noise, their eyes held only each other.
In the intensity of their gaze, amidst hurried breaths and racing hearts, it was unclear who yielded first.
Wen Zhe chuckled softly, his smile lingering in his eyes as he spoke slowly—
“With hope, one finds motivation, and with motivation, one gives their all.”
Cheers continued unabated. Li Yan shouted excitedly, her urge to rush onstage and lift the trophy interrupted by the ringing of her phone. Glancing at the caller ID, her smile froze on her face.
Li Yan answered the call and walked toward the backstage, her unfamiliar and cold voice drifting past Jian Yao: “What do you want? Do you think your joke is funny?”
Her voice faded into the distance. Jian Yao’s thoughts were pulled back by the emotions in the arena, barely noticing the faint, almost imperceptible sob hidden in Li Yan’s icy tone.
The atmosphere in the venue gradually settled. When Li Yan returned, she fell silent, her gaze fixed only on Wen Zhe. Wen Zhe glanced at her knowingly, frowning slightly and nodding in acknowledgment.
Seeing this, Li Yan lowered her eyes and retreated to the backstage once more. The forced smile she exchanged with Jian Yao in an unconscious moment of eye contact left him stunned. He could no longer see the light in her eyes.
What had happened?
At ten o’clock in the evening, the stage curtain fell on schedule.
Wen Zhe quickly glanced at Jian Yao, turned to whisper something to Su Ze, then hurried toward the backstage.
Not finding Li Yan in the restroom, Wen Zhe immediately thought of the rooftop of the competition center.
He rushed there and, as expected, found Li Yan.
“Sister Yan, what happened?”
Li Yan, who had barely managed to calm herself, broke down at his words. Tears streamed uncontrollably down her face, the strands of hair on her cheeks clinging stubbornly to her skin, dampened by her tears. Though a simple brush of her hand could have smoothed them away, in that moment, it felt utterly “helpless.”
Li Yan didn’t cry out loud but leaned against the railing, trembling. “I thought I could do it…”
Hearing this, Wen Zhe understood immediately. “It’s not your fault.”
“No, I’m just not strong enough…” Li Yan choked, trembling even more violently. “Do you think if he knew, would he be disappointed in me?”
“You’ve already proven it to him, haven’t you? Besides, you don’t need to prove anything. You became better for yourself in the first place. Are you going to let all of that be overturned just because of a single word or sentence from him? That’s not like you, Yan Jie.”
“But Wen Zhe, this time is different…”
“How is it different?” Wen Zhe leaned against the railing as well, his fingers tapping the metal, producing hollow, echoing sounds.
Even if Li Yan didn’t say it, Wen Zhe could guess the reason. The usual criticisms were nothing more than minor annoyances, hardly enough to make Li Yan feel this distressed.
Li Yan struggled to steady her trembling voice: “I received word from above today. They’ve decided to strip me of all my authority within AFG.”
An airplane cut silently across the sky, its contrails swiftly scattered by the wind. Wen Zhe’s fingers, which had been lightly tapping the railing, came down with a heavy thud. “Because you interfered with the alliance’s decision?”
“I…”
“I didn’t need you to say it to know it was you. Everyone knows how that rogue alliance operates—they’d never take a loss-making deal. So, how much did you pay?”
“Eight million…” Li Yan quickly interjected, cutting off the disapproving click of the tongue Wen Zhe was about to make. “I didn’t want you all to suffer unfair treatment…”
“So, you decided to shoulder all the unfairness yourself?” A cold voice came from behind them. Wen Zhe was the first to turn and walk toward the man.
“Yingyan Ge.”
“You played well tonight.” Ye Yingyan nodded in acknowledgment. “Your brother saw it too.”
“Whether he saw it or not doesn’t matter. I’ll leave Yan Jie to you. I have some things to take care of.” Without waiting for Ye Yingyan’s reply, Wen Zhe casually waved and walked away.
Ye Yingyan didn’t mind. As the younger brother of a friend, he knew better than to interfere too much.
His gaze returned to Li Yan. Under the gentle glow of the moonlight, his eyes revealed an unmistakable look of heartache.
Li Yan lowered her head, trying to hide her disheveled appearance, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. “Yingyan…”
Before she could finish, she was pulled into a broad, warm embrace. Ye Yingyan patted her back gently. “I understand.”
[Why won’t you rely on me?]
He still couldn’t bring himself to say it.
The crowd had already dispersed. Jian Yao went to the lounge but found Wen Zhe wasn’t there, so he returned alone to the spectator seats. The cheers of the fans and the scene of AFG lifting the championship trophy lingered in his mind, refusing to fade.
He clenched his fists, his blood surging with restless energy. Never before had he wanted so badly to stand on that stage, to fight side by side with Wen Zhe.
“Jian Yao.”
A call from nearby pulled Jian Yao from his thoughts. He watched as Wen Zhe approached, one hand tucked behind his back. Acting faster than he could think, Jian Yao hurried over and came to an abrupt stop in front of him. “Congratulations on winning the championship!”
“Thanks.” Wen Zhe reached out and ruffled Jian Yao’s hair, smiling as he looked down. “What are you doing here?”
“I went to the lounge earlier and you weren’t there. I didn’t feel comfortable staying inside, so I came out to wander around.”
Jian Yao glanced toward the stage. Following his gaze, Wen Zhe slung an arm over Jian Yao’s shoulders. “Let’s go take a look up there.”
“Ah, is that really okay?” Jian Yao stiffened, his feet refusing to move.
“What’s not okay about it? I’m dragging you along to help me find something. I left something up there.” Wen Zhe tugged Jian Yao toward the stage. “And it’s something I can’t afford to lose.”
Hearing Wen Zhe say this, Jian Yao immediately became serious, wearing an expression of “facing death without fear.” “Alright, then we must find it.”
Although Jian Yao said this, as soon as he stepped onto the stage, he saw the still-running equipment and the keyboard Wen Zhe hadn’t taken down yet—
Jian Yao couldn’t move.
Wen Zhe noticed all of this and pulled out the gaming chair. “Sit and play for a while. I’ll look for it.”
“Can I really…?”
“Of course, but… do you know how to play ‘Warrior’? And if you’re not familiar with my weapon, it might be tough. You can log into your own account.”
“I can do it!” Jian Yao met Wen Zhe’s gaze. “Please let me try.”
Wen Zhe nodded, facing the camera to unlock his permissions. “Alright.”
“Thank you.”
Jian Yao took the mouse, put on the headphones, and immersed himself completely, not even noticing Wen Zhe leaning against the gaming chair.
Wen Zhe smiled. This kid’s obsession with the game was just like when he first met him—nothing had changed.
“Classmate…”
This was who knows how many times Wen Zhe had tried to get the attention of the person beside him, but…