The clock on the wall ticked rhythmically, and the corridor seemed to echo with Zhuoyue’s accusation of match-fixing.
Yan Shu’s hands, which had been hanging at his sides, curled into fists, his fingers digging hard into the fabric of his trousers. After a brief moment of silence, he spoke with an eerie, mechanical calm: “I didn’t do it.”
“You have the gall to say that? Why don’t you say it to the fans you once had?” Zhuoyue sneered, his expression shifting from rage to mockery. He quickly wiped the contemptuous smirk from his lips and grabbed Yan Shu by the shirt collar. “Are you afraid, or are you just unable to face the truth? You’re only lying to yourself. The footage is still available online, so what more are you trying to deny?”
Zhuoyue knew so much about Yan Shu’s past because he had once been one of those fans.
The depth of his former adoration, respect, and affection now fueled the intensity of his current sorrow, disappointment, and rage.
“I didn’t do it,” Yan Shu repeated, just before feeling a dull, heavy ache in his back.
Zhuoyue shoved him hard, his forearm pinning Yan Shu’s neck against the wall, forcing him to look up. “Then why did you run? Why did you hide abroad for four years? A piece of trash who fixes matches has no place in this league.”
With those words, Zhuoyue released him, shaking his hands as if he had touched something filthy. He turned his back, making it perfectly clear that Yan Shu was no longer welcome.
There was too much that Yan Shu couldn’t say. It would be useless anyway, as he had already explained himself four years ago. Now, he wanted to seize this opportunity to join the team more than anything. Even if he disappointed a loyal fan like Zhuoyue, he had to stay in the league. Only by winning the championship again and returning to the pinnacle of glory would he have a chance to clear his name.
Once Yan Shu reached this conclusion, his breathing steadied. He adjusted his focus and took a step toward Zhuoyue, grabbing his sleeve. “You said that we needed to play a match for me to prove I have the strength to join. I want to play you.”
Zhuoyue froze, a flash of surprise crossing his face. He turned back, glancing at the beautiful face he had once been infatuated with and now detested. He snorted, “Fine. I’ll give you a chance.”
They wasted no time, and soon they were seated across from each other in the training room.
Zhuoyue sat down, pulled out his phone, and made a call.
“Everyone come down. It’ll be fairer if you watch, because I don’t want people to think I’m bullying a newcomer.” He emphasized the last four words deliberately.
As soon as the captain finished speaking, a group of people scrambled down the stairs.
Aside from the senior management, all the members of the SR team arrived, crowding outside the training room.
“Ye Xuanqing, get in here,” Zhuoyue said, waving at a man with a crew cut in the crowd.
Yan Shu followed his gaze. He recognized the man; he had faced him in a duel just moments earlier. This was Ghost Blade, the SR team’s starting laner, known for his prowess with tank heroes. Since Zhuoyue had called him out, he clearly intended for him to act as the referee.
Having a top laner act as referee meant the solo match would likely be a test of top-lane skill.
“A top-lane duel? Isn’t that your specialty? The absolute top laner, the end of all top lanes, TW-Snow Moon.” Zhuoyue exposed Yan Shu’s true identity in one breath.
Most of the current SR team members were rookies, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t followed the GPL. Even if they hadn’t seen the legendary Snow Moon, they had certainly heard of him.
Who in the league didn’t know the Moon God? Even if they didn’t know the glorious history of TW’s top-lane god, they knew his infamy. After all, the match-fixing incident was one of the few truly sensational scandals in the history of the league.
Soon, whispers began to ripple through the room outside.
“I remember that incident from the second GPL playoffs. TW’s top laner allegedly tried to bribe the opposing team, the Snakes. It didn’t work. Plus, they say Snow Moon’s skill wasn’t nearly as godly as people claimed. TW suffered a crushing defeat, and his scandals were exposed.”
“No wonder he looked familiar. It’s that guy, Snow Moon. He thinks he can just change his ID and come back? Disgusting.”
“With a face like that, who knows if he got into pro gaming on skill or something else.”
“Captain Zhuo, finish him!”
Before long, the chant to finish the match-fixing dog began to echo outside.
Yan Shu heard the synchronized shouting, and his head began to buzz.
Zhuoyue raised his hand in a gesture for silence. “Quiet. We should show our opponent some respect on the field.”
The crowd obeyed, though some still couldn’t stop whispering.
“If both sides are ready, let’s begin,” said Ye Xuanqing. He was a stoic man, and despite the shocking revelation, his expression remained impassive.
He was focused entirely on the task at hand, perhaps because his seniority on the team gave him a sense of composure.
Hearing the command, Yan Shu gripped his phone, his breathing labored. He had considered what would happen if his identity were exposed, but even with mental preparation, the stress was triggering his condition.
The mention of that past, combined with the hostile language, was enough to break his psychological defenses.
Ye Xuanqing unfolded the draw slip. “The hero pool draw is finished. Both sides must use Mulan.”
Zhuoyue pressed confirm first, and Yan Shu, his expression pale, followed suit.
As the game loaded, Zhuoyue purchased his equipment and provoked him: “You played Mulan in that S2 playoff final, didn’t you? Honestly, a player from the youth team could have performed better than you.”
They reached the first turret and both instinctively ducked into the bushes on either side of the lane.
Yan Shu, following his habit, prioritized his second skill, Crescent Slash, while Zhuoyue leveled his first, Spinning Dance.
Neither engaged immediately; they both prioritized clearing the lane.
Zhuoyue cleared his minions faster. Once he finished off the three, he turned and used two skills on Yan Shu. Yan Shu counterattacked, only to realize that Zhuoyue had taken almost no damage.
“I know your solo habits very well. No matter the hero, you always like to bring Execute. That’s why my Mulan’s runes are so tanky, and I brought Heal.” Zhuoyue knew Yan Shu’s habits perfectly, including his solo play. During the time he had been a fan, no matter how hard he worked, he had always made time to watch Yan Shu’s live streams.
It was the first time Yan Shu had been so thoroughly read by an opponent. He knew Zhuoyue had been a fan, but he hadn’t realized to what extent.
As time ticked by, Zhuoyue’s advantage in runes and skills allowed him to reach level four first. Once he did, he immediately launched an attack right in front of Yan Shu’s first turret.
Yan Shu was still clearing minions; he hadn’t expected such an aggressive push.
With a seamless combo, Zhuoyue silenced him, pushed him out from under the protection of his turret, and landed the killing blow with a fully charged heavy sword strike. He took First Blood.
“Wind God! Wind God! Wind! Wind!”
“Captain Zhuo, you’re amazing!”
The spectators outside erupted.
“Ten national titles for a top laner? Yan Shu, I’m really curious about how you got those badges.” After saying this, Zhuoyue had his character stand over Yan Shu’s corpse to recall, a gesture intended to mock.
It was a well-known rule in the top lane that recalling over an opponent was the ultimate insult.
This act pushed the excitement of the match to its peak.
Yan Shu’s hands shook uncontrollably, and his face turned deathly pale. He bit his lower lip, struggling to control the game.
After respawning, he finally hit level four. He moved through the bushes, attempting a sneak attack.
Zhuoyue knew exactly where he was and didn’t bother hiding. He stood right between the two towers, recalling again to taunt him.
This was his chance!
Yan Shu threw his dagger from the brush, trying to land his combo. Knowing his opponent might anticipate it, he timed his second skill a few seconds early.
To his dismay, Zhuoyue took a bit of damage, then countered with a silence, perfectly predicting Yan Shu’s movement.
Because Yan Shu had used his skill early, he missed two stages of Spinning Dance.
“You can’t even land your skills? Yan Shu, with skill like that, you’d struggle to get into the youth team.” Zhuoyue unleashed a combo. He didn’t secure the kill, but he absolutely crushed Yan Shu’s momentum.
The situation was dire. Yan Shu’s lips were trembling, and he bit down so hard he drew blood. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, and he could hear the insults from his teammates after the finals four years ago, along with the endless wave of cyberbullying.
My head hurts.
Yan Shu could barely see the phone screen. His hand shuddered, and the phone clattered to the table.
Zhuoyue heard the noise, assuming Yan Shu was ashamed of missing his skills and had let his phone slip. He ignored the distraction and launched the next wave of attacks.
The stress response was too intense. Yan Shu couldn’t focus on the game at all. He felt as if there were countless voices surrounding him, all accusing and cursing him.
Staring into the abyss of public condemnation, Yan Shu faltered. Errors piled up, and he lost both matches in quick succession.
“Match over. SR-Wind wins,” Ye Xuanqing announced.
Yan Shu sat silently, his head bowed, as if he hadn’t heard a word.
Zhuoyue stood up and turned to look out the window. “The match is over. Everyone go back to training. Ghost Blade, you too.”
Ye Xuanqing nodded and left with the others.
Once everyone was gone, Zhuoyue tapped the table. “Get out. Why are you still here?”
The chaotic noise in Yan Shu’s head finally faded. He raised his head stiffly, staring at the final score on the training room screen. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out, because it felt as if his throat had been obstructed.
Zhuoyue, seeing him remain seated, assumed he was plotting something. “A loss is a loss. Get out.”
He lost, then.
Only then did the reality of his defeat truly set in. Yan Shu stood up, walking toward the door to grab his luggage.
But his legs felt as if they were glued to the floor, and he couldn’t take another step.
Zhuoyue noticed Yan Shu standing at the door without moving and looked back, puzzled. The next second, he found himself face-to-face with a face streaming with tears.
Yan Shu realized, a beat late, that he was crying. He wiped his eyes clumsily, only to find his palms covered in tears.
“You can cry over this?” Zhuoyue was stunned. He thought he hated Yan Shu, but seeing him cry caused a sudden, unexpected ripple in his heart.