The group noisily moved on to a KTV. Xue Jian and the others scanned a code to queue songs, while Yu Sibai helped Pupu set up his livestream.
“Re-baby, how do you usually set this up?”
“I don’t even know—I’ve never streamed on my phone…”
After fumbling around like two clueless tinkerers, they finally got it working.
Once things settled, Yu Sibai glanced around and suddenly asked,
“Are we missing someone? Where’s our little Kulu?”
“Huh? Oh, Liang Lu,” Pupu said. “That kid overslept this afternoon. Said he’d shower and fix his hair before coming—should be here soon…”
Just as he finished speaking, the private room door opened. A tall boy—over 1.8 meters—peeked in, scanned the room, and only stepped inside after confirming he was in the right place.
“Speak of the devil,” Pupu waved. “Liang Lu, over here.”
“Xiaobai-ge!”
Though Pupu had called him, the boy ran straight toward Yu Sibai, stopping beside him—so tall Yu Sibai had to look up to meet his eyes.
“Don’t call me that… sounds like a pigeon,” Yu Sibai said, half laughing.
Liang Lu shook his head like a dog shaking off water after a bath.
He’d always been like this, so Yu Sibai just let it go, smiling.
“Congrats on FMVP, little Kulu.”
As he spoke, his gaze drifted to Liang Lu’s hair—and paused.
It was clearly styled on purpose, but paired with Liang Lu’s youthful, college-boy face, it somehow felt… mismatched. Like a kid trying to look like an adult. And the hairstyle looked oddly familiar.
Seeing him stare, Liang Lu’s slightly drooping eyes curved into a bright, unguarded smile.
“Xiaobai-ge, what do you think?”
“Pretty good,” Yu Sibai thought for a moment before saying, “My boss has a similar hairstyle.”
Pupu immediately gave a thumbs-up.
“Nice—rich people hairstyle.”
But Liang Lu pressed his lips together slightly, his smile dimming a bit.
“You mean that new boss at your company… the handsome one?”
Yu Sibai hadn’t expected them to watch his streams despite their busy training schedules. He answered casually,
“Just average-looking… why bring him up? We’re off work.”
“My bad.” Liang Lu’s smile brightened again. He sat beside Yu Sibai, grabbed two plums from the table, handed one over, and started eating as he asked,
“Xiaobai-ge, do you not like your boss?”
“What kind of question is that? Who actually likes their boss—what, are we masochists?” Yu Sibai shot him a glance. “Do you like Boss Xue?”
Liang Lu shook his head like a rattle drum, making Yu Sibai laugh.
“This kid…”
“Res! Come play a game!” Xue Jian called from across the room, only then noticing Liang Lu.
One of the teammates couldn’t help adding,
“Every time he sees your Xiaobai-ge, he turns into a little tail… Res, I’m telling you—when he got drunk after the championship, he kept shouting—mmph—!”
Liang Lu lunged forward in two quick steps and clamped a hand over his teammate’s mouth, his face visibly flushed even in the dim lighting.
“He was just shouting his Xiaobai-ge’s name—what’s there to hide?” Xue Jian teased. “We’re all brothers. What’s wrong, Xiaolu? Guilty conscience?”
Liang Lu didn’t dare cover his boss’s mouth, but he didn’t answer either—just turned to look at Yu Sibai.
Yu Sibai, having just adjusted his mask and cap, looked over—completely unaware of what had been said.
“Where are the cards? I’ll shuffle.”
Xue Jian raised an eyebrow at Liang Lu, who had lowered his gaze, then shrugged.
Pupu had brought two decks of cards. Urged on by the chat, they started with a game of “King’s Game.”
Yu Sibai had always had good luck in games. In shooters, he had that elusive “luck buff,” and when rolling dice, things often went his way.
But in King’s Game, that kind of luck… wasn’t exactly a blessing.
In just ten minutes and five rounds, Yu Sibai got picked three times.
The first time, Xue Jian was chosen and immediately launched a 10,000-yuan giveaway in the stream. The next three rounds were Yu Sibai’s—though the punishments were mild. The previous round had picked two players, whose punishment was “sing a love duet while hugging.”
Both were emotional types. What started as playful singing gradually turned heartfelt—one lyric hit home, reminding them of their championship moment. Soon, they were hugging each other, crying loudly about all the hardships they’d endured.
“Winning a championship really is great,” Yu Sibai couldn’t help saying.
His voice was drowned out by their wailing. Liang Lu only caught part of it and leaned closer.
“What?”
Yu Sibai smiled and raised his voice.
“I said, doing what you love is great.”
Hearing that, Liang Lu’s eyes lit up.
“Then come join us, ge! Be our analyst—we’ll win another championship together!”
The two crying teammates finally calmed down, wiping tears and snot off each other before sitting back, shouting about playing professionally for a lifetime.
But everyone knew—that wasn’t possible.
Watching them, Yu Sibai suddenly felt a bit wistful. Liang Lu’s question lingered, and he chuckled.
“Sure. If I ever end up jobless, I’ll apply… here, draw a card.”
Liang Lu picked the King—the big joker. After thinking for a moment, he said,
“I choose… Seven of Hearts!”
Yu Sibai froze, flipping his own card.
“…Why is it me again?” His participation rate was a little too high.
Pupu grabbed his card and burst out laughing.
“This room’s full of champions—your luck’s getting drained by us!”
“Draw your punishment!”
“Single or double?” someone asked the King.
Double punishments were usually a bit suggestive—perfect for livestream entertainment.
But Liang Lu shook his head quickly.
“Single, single.”
After saying that, he glanced at the barrage of comments spamming “secret crush confirmed”, then carefully looked at Yu Sibai—only to find his expression had dimmed slightly as he drew his punishment.
Yu Sibai picked two cards—choose one.
The first card—everyone burst out laughing.
Drink a glass.
Everyone present knew his alcohol tolerance. After all, the time he got drunk and abandoned by the roadside, he’d ended up staying at ICG.
Yu Sibai flipped the second card—and the moment he saw it, he instinctively flipped it back down.
“I’ll take the first one,” he said without hesitation.
“Wait, what was that card? Why are you so scared?”
“Didn’t see clearly… something about pinning someone on WeChat…”
Before Pupu could grab it, Yu Sibai slipped the card back into the deck and pushed his glass forward.
“Who’s filling this for me?”
Pupu was stunned.
“Take it easy! What, you planning to crash at our base tonight? You’d have to share a bed with me…”
“I—I can sleep in the training room. Xiaobai-ge can take my bed,” Liang Lu offered, only to get lightly smacked on the head by Pupu.
“I’m trying to stop him, not encourage him,” Pupu gritted his teeth. “He can’t drink.”
Yu Sibai nudged his friend with his elbow and shook his head.
“Bad luck lately—I need a celebratory drink to turn things around… Besides, I’ve been training my tolerance. Just watch.”
“Wait!” Liang Lu suddenly said. “I cheated. I saw Xiaobai-ge’s card when dealing and picked him on purpose. I’ll redo it.”
The teammate next to him slung an arm around his neck with a grin.
“So you’re sabotaging him? Then you drink too!”
Liang Lu didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll drink two. I’ll drink for him!”
“Really no need…” Yu Sibai sighed.
Xue Jian could tell Yu Sibai genuinely wanted to drink. He stopped Liang Lu and said with a smile,
“If he wants to drink, let him. Res, give me your address—I’ll have someone take you home later.”
Finally, no one stopped him.
Beer was poured into a glass. Pupu deliberately poured less. Yu Sibai lifted it, pulled down half his mask away from the camera, and downed it in one go.
The glass landed on the table with a soft clink. He put his mask back on, adjusted his cap, and only then noticed everyone watching him closely.
He couldn’t help but laugh.
“Don’t feel anything,” he said with a click of his tongue. “Told you I trained my tolerance. What, you looking down on me? I could drink three more.”
Xue Jian laughed.
“Yeah right… if you can drink three more and still walk, I’ll call K-god to come pick you up!”
“Really?” Yu Sibai, who had just let go of his glass, grabbed it again instantly—like he’d down two more on the spot if Xue Jian agreed.
Pupu immediately turned serious.
“Jokes are jokes—don’t bring K-god into this.”
Xue Jian waved his hands quickly.
“Just kidding! I don’t have that kind of pull… You okay though? Really not dizzy?”
“Not dizzy.” Yu Sibai’s eyes were clear, his speech steady. He tossed the “drink” card back into the deck and said coolly—
“Next round.”
In the office, Ji Wenze took off his glasses and rubbed his temples.
Past ten.
Should he say… it was lucky he came back early tonight?
He let out a faint laugh.
He hadn’t planned to make a move against Lu Jinren so soon—but since Yu Sibai had created such a perfect opportunity, he wasn’t about to let it slip.
City lights and night shadows intertwined silently outside the window. Leaning back in his chair, Ji Wenze picked up the design drafts Yu Sibai had revised—the ones left behind from Qian Chong—and studied them for a long time.
“President Ji, Lu Jinren has left.” Yang Mengyue knocked and entered, placing freshly printed documents on the desk.
Ji Wenze lowered his gaze and skimmed them.
【Yu Sibai… Acting Director…】
Picking up his pen, he flipped to the last page and began signing. He had just written “Ji” when his pen suddenly paused.
He remembered the note he’d written before—his WeChat ID and the same “Ji” signature.
Duan Chengxue had said… it was thrown away.
“President Ji?” Yang Mengyue prompted.
Ji Wenze capped his pen.
“Let’s leave it for Monday. I should ask for his opinion first.”
Yang Mengyue hesitated but nodded, hiding her confusion. She stepped forward, collected the documents, fed them into the shredder, then added:
“President Ji, around 10:50, you’ll need to attend a short meeting on behalf of Chairman Ji.”
Ji Wenze had been about to leave. His motion paused.
“…Isn’t it daytime on her side? Why me?”
Yang Mengyue looked troubled.
“I… I’m not sure.”
Ji Wenze sighed.
“Alright. You can head off.”
“Understood, President Ji.” She smiled, gathered her things, and quietly closed the door.
The office fell silent again.
Ji Wenze glanced at the time, pulled his chair back, and sat down once more.
No one would believe that when alone in his office, President Ji casually opened a livestream on J-Station.
Even he wouldn’t have believed it a few days ago.
As soon as he entered the homepage, the usual “Execut2” content had been replaced at the top with a new title:
【Tagging along for an outdoor stream today → ICG-Pupu is live】
Ji Wenze raised an eyebrow slightly and clicked in.
“DEAD—! MUST! LOVE—!”
A voice with near-physical destructive force exploded from his speakers. He immediately turned the volume to minimum and switched to fullscreen to make sense of the scene.
The KTV was brightly lit for the stream. His gaze swept across the faces—aside from the coach Ketya, whom he’d known from years ago, the rest were unfamiliar young players.
When watching Respit2’s stream, even though the maps and heroes were new, the streamer’s engaging commentary had kept him from thinking too much.
Now, with only chaotic singing in his ears, irritation rose—but he didn’t exit.
He sent a highlighted message. Soon, the round-faced streamer leaned toward the camera and read it aloud:
“Thanks to Boss 404 for the superchat! ‘Let’s see Res’… Res is drunk—can’t get too close. I’ll just pan over from afar.”
Ji Wenze’s brows furrowed instantly.
This is how Xue Jian takes care of people?
The camera shook, then steadied, pointing toward another corner of the room.
Ji Wenze grabbed his phone and called Xue Jian—but the man was too immersed in his singing to pick up.
On screen—
A familiar light-colored shirt. The dark brown coat from earlier that afternoon was neatly folded beside him. Draped over him now was an ICG team jacket.
Yu Sibai’s mask was pulled down to his chin. His head rested against the shoulder of the boy beside him.
He looked… asleep.