On the court, Xie Chu was overwhelmed with tasks. Searching for people, coordinating the live match, and even arguing with the opposing team’s captain. The atmosphere was thick with tension.
“—Not answering calls either,” Xie Chu muttered irritably. “Did anyone see Tan Yang just now? Didn’t we agree in the group chat to arrive early?”
Someone nearby replied, “I think I saw him when I arrived, over by the east side of the gym.”
Xie Chu took a deep breath, fearing he might explode from frustration. “And where is he now? Vanished into thin air? …If he’s not answering his phone, was it stolen?”
The person beside him shook his head. “Not sure. I’ll check the area where I saw him earlier.”
“Forget it, don’t waste time. If we can’t find him, we’ll just substitute someone else,” Xie Chu decided. “Contact the vice-captains and have any available ones come over.”
Fortunately, since the match was being held at their school, Tan Yang’s absence wasn’t a major issue. There were plenty of skilled players ready to step in.
Meanwhile, the captain of the opposing school’s team was also visibly upset, his face dark with suppressed anger as he frantically made calls.
Their team had enough players to field a substitute, but the missing member was their star forward, and the gap in ability between him and the backup was significant.
Although it was often said that friendly matches weren’t about winning or losing, the reality was that every competition had an outcome, and winning always felt better than losing.
The opposing captain approached Xie Chu. “Captain Xie, our small forward is missing. What do we do now?”
“If he’s missing, go find him,” Xie Chu replied with a strained smile. “What, do you think I’ve hidden your player?”
The other captain’s expression hardened. “How are we supposed to look for him? He disappeared on your campus.”
“And we’re responsible for that?” Xie Chu’s temper flared. “Is Rong University some kind of trafficking school? Instead of searching for him, you’re here wasting time with nonsense.”
“—Are you out of your mind?”
Though it was meant to be a friendly match, Xie Chu was never one for pleasantries, and in his current agitated state, he was even more confrontational.
Organizing a match was no simple task. Xie Chu had overseen everything from logistics to on-court preparations. No one had expected everything to go smoothly until the final moment, only for a problem to arise then.
The opposing captain was left speechless. “…We’re not familiar with your campus. How are we supposed to know where to look?”
Xie Chu found it absurd. “We don’t even know what your player looks like. How could we possibly help you search?”
“Besides, where could he have gone? To the cafeteria for a meal or the library to read? Shouldn’t you be checking around the gym, making calls, and trying to reach him? Do you really need me to tell you how to look for someone?”
As time passed, the audience remained unaware of the situation, assuming the players milling about in jerseys were simply making pre-game preparations.
Xie Chu stated bluntly, “We start in fifteen minutes. If he’s not found by then, we use a substitute. We can’t keep all these spectators waiting for one person.”
The opposing captain was frantic but had no rebuttal—the logic was sound; the entire venue couldn’t be held up for a single individual.
By the time Gu Ji arrived, Xie Chu had already arranged for a substitute and finally settled down, stretching his arms in relief as he felt a sense of calm return.
He spotted Gu Ji and waved him over. “Xiao Gu, you’re here. Perfect timing, everything’s settled. Just get on the court, play your game, and don’t be nervous.”
A slight smile touched Gu Ji’s lips. “I’m not nervous.”
Xie Chu lowered his voice slightly. “Even though it’s a friendly match, give it your all and crush the other team. Their captain is a lunatic. He went crazy at me when one of his players went missing, as if I had anything to do with it.”
Gu Ji chuckled. “…I’ll do my best.”
With nothing urgent to attend to at the moment, Xie Chu was about to chat with Gu Ji and go over some key points for the upcoming match when someone from the opposite side of the court shouted his name again.
“Captain Xie, Tan Yang is back!”
Xie Chu clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Let me go see what’s going on.”
Gu Ji stood up as well. “I’ll come with you.”
Tan Yang returned alongside the missing player from the opposing team, his face bruised and looking thoroughly disheveled.
Xie Chu’s expression was a mix of disbelief and sarcasm. “…Did you two fall into a dog hole?”
Tan Yang’s face was full of resentment, his mood at rock bottom. He was about to say something, but when he looked up and saw Gu Ji standing behind Xie Chu, the words caught in his throat. His expression turned grim.
The pain in his face flared up again, as if repeatedly reminding him of what had happened.
Gu Ji waited, curious to hear how Tan Yang would explain himself, but after a long pause, Tan Yang remained silent.
Tan Yang’s emotions were tangled, and he didn’t utter a word.
Gu Ji raised an eyebrow slightly, surprised. This would have been a perfect opportunity for Tan Yang to smear his reputation. Why hadn’t he taken it? The likelihood of Tan Yang having a change of heart was slim. Could it be that he was genuinely afraid of Xiao Yan now?
At that thought, Gu Ji glanced back toward the spectator stands, as if searching for someone. When his eyes met Yan Congyu’s, he smiled.
Yan Congyu was momentarily stunned, his ears inexplicably warming.
Looking down from the stands at Gu Ji on the court felt different from usual. Bathed in sunlight, his youthful spirit was vibrant and unrestrained, radiating a carefree confidence.
The opposing team’s captain, relieved to see his player finally back and with the opposing team, no less—hurried over and remarked sarcastically, “So you couldn’t find him, huh? More like you didn’t want to.”
“Lunatic,” Xie Chu muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes before turning to Gu Ji. “Their school’s basketball team just got a new captain. The last one was pretty decent, but he stepped down for an internship. This new guy acts like he’s got a persecution complex, completely unhinged.”
Gu Ji couldn’t help but laugh.
The opposing captain had barely begun to feel relieved when his player spoke up. “Captain, put in a substitute. I can’t play.”
The captain’s face darkened instantly. “What do you mean you can’t play? Where am I supposed to find a well-practiced substitute now? And we haven’t even talked about you disappearing before the match. What were you thinking, running off like that?”
The player, equally irritable, snapped back, “I can’t play, that’s all! I’m injured, so I can’t play!”
He regretted ever agreeing to help Tan Yang with whatever scheme he had pulled. Let someone else deal with it—he wasn’t getting involved again.
“Unbelievable!” The captain was fuming. “Always causing trouble at the last minute. What were you two even doing earlier?”
“Fighting,” the player replied indifferently.
The captain’s anger boiled over. “Fighting? Of all times, you had to pick right before the match? What kind of grudge is so urgent it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
Neither of them revealed what had actually happened earlier, as if they had agreed on it beforehand. Gu Ji was somewhat surprised. Given their personalities, he had expected them to seize the opportunity to shift the blame onto him.
Gu Ji wasn’t naive enough to think they had suddenly developed a conscience. There must have been some other reason they didn’t want or couldn’t say anything.
Was it because they felt ashamed to admit they’d lost a fight, or did Xiao Yan have something on them?
Fifteen minutes passed, and the match began on time.
Gu Ji wasn’t scheduled for the first round, so he sat on the sidelines watching, next to the team captain, Xie Chu.
“…Has our team’s skill level improved this much in just a few days?”
Only a few minutes into the first match, the players’ techniques were so flashy it felt like a show. Gu Ji said uncertainly, “Captain Xie, you didn’t bring me here to embarrass myself, did you?”
Xie Chu nearly choked on his water, laughing. “Of course not. This is an exhibition match to hype up the atmosphere. It’s not a full game, just about ten minutes.”
Yan Congyu, sitting in the stands, wasn’t interested in basketball. While Gu Ji wasn’t on the court, he found the back-and-forth passing of the ball boring and listlessly looked down at his phone.
Beside him, Cheng Zhou wasn’t paying much attention either. He sighed and asked, “Yan, do you know when Brother Gu is playing?”
Yan Congyu shook his head.
He only knew Gu Ji would play in one match but didn’t know which one.
“Half an hour,” Gu Ji suddenly appeared behind them mysteriously, holding several bottles of water which he handed over with a smile. “Just wait a little longer.”
He had been watching the game below with no one to talk to after Xie Chu left to handle other matters, so he came up to join his friends.
Cheng Zhou turned around and asked curiously, “How did they handle what happened earlier?”
Gu Ji replied, “They replaced them.”
Cheng Zhou nodded and turned to tell Xu Jingyin about it.
There was an empty seat next to Yan Congyu, so Gu Ji sat down and asked quietly, “Why didn’t they say anything about what happened earlier?”
—Gu Ji was dying to know.
Tan Yang had previously gone out of his way to frame Gu Ji even when there was no opportunity. Now, with such a perfect chance to smear his reputation and clear evidence of injuries, why had they said nothing?
Yan Congyu averted his gaze. “Maybe they felt guilty.”
Gu Ji tilted his head to look at Yan Congyu, noticing the evasion in his eyes. He nudged him with his leg, unable to hold back a smile. “Really? I feel like you’re the one who’s guilty.”
Yan Congyu let out a soft sigh, suddenly realizing that being friends with Gu Ji was a true test of his self-control. One careless moment, and he might lose his composure.
Gu Ji sighed dramatically. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll keep guessing. I won’t be able to eat or drink properly, and I’ll have no focus for anything.”
Yan Congyu faltered, swayed by this reasoning.
Gu Ji added, “And then I’ll become very sad.”
“…”
Yan Congyu fell silent for a moment. He hadn’t wanted to tell Gu Ji because he was afraid it would upset him, not to deliberately keep him in the dark and make him anxious.
He relented, “…I’ll tell you.”
Gu Ji’s lips curved slightly. “Good, I’m listening.”
Yan Congyu paused, feeling something was off. But since he had already agreed, he couldn’t back out now.
“They were talking about fixing the match and deliberately playing dirty against you,” he said. “I told them I had it recorded.”
The truth was now clear—no wonder Tan and Yang had kept their mouths shut. It turned out Yan Congyu really had something on them. The two were afraid he might have a recording; if it were ever leaked, not only would their reputations be ruined, but no official competition would ever accept them again.
That’s why they didn’t dare say a word, even after being beaten up.
“Reliable.” This matter seemed to be a secret only he and Yan Congyu knew. He leaned in and lowered his voice to ask, “Did you really record it?”
Yan Congyu shook his head. “No, I was bluffing.”
When he overheard their conversation, he had been too overwhelmed by anger to think about recording it. He only claimed to have a recording afterward to prevent them from bringing the matter to Gu Ji’s attention.
He hadn’t expected Gu Ji to show up midway, making it impossible to keep the secret any longer.
Whether there was a recording or not didn’t matter as long as those two believed there was, that was enough.
Gu Ji said, “Thankfully, you were here.”
Otherwise, facing another dirty play on the court, even if Gu Ji reacted quickly this time around, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t get hurt.
The game entered halftime, and preparations for the next match began.
“I’ll head down first, then.” Gu Ji patted Yan Congyu’s shoulder. “I’ll come find you after the game.”
…
Yan Congyu had watched Gu Ji play many times and had even attended his matches alone.
But it had never felt like this before. Back when Gu Ji had a boyfriend, Yan Congyu’s presence felt almost illicit. Even sitting in the stands, he never dared to openly meet Gu Ji’s gaze.
Once the match started, Yan Congyu watched intently. Although two troublemakers had been exposed earlier, there was no guarantee others weren’t hiding among the remaining players. He eyed every person who approached Gu Ji with suspicion.
Cheng Zhou happened to glance over and noticed. “…”
“Yan, why are you watching so seriously?” he remarked casually. “It’s like you’re in a lecture.”
Yan Congyu replied simply, “I’m worried someone might intentionally bump into Gu Ji.”
At first, Cheng Zhou found the idea absurd, collisions were inevitable on the court. But upon second thought, what if some scoundrel really intended to harm Gu Ji?
Once that thought took root, it wouldn’t go away. Cheng Zhou began to share Yan Congyu’s suspicions. “You’re right,” he mused. “That guy with the yellow hair looks pretty suspicious to me.”
Xu Jingyin and Song Jinzhen, sitting nearby, exchanged glances. “…”
The reasoning was odd, but not entirely without merit.
Fortunately, the match concluded without incident. Cheng Zhou rubbed his eyes. “Seriously, after watching that game, I feel like I’m going to need glasses.”
He had never focused so intently on a match before.
Yan Congyu felt a slight sense of relief once he saw Gu Ji pick up his gear and leave the court.
“Let’s wait for Gu Ji to come back,” Cheng Zhou said, starting to pack his things. He then asked casually, “Yan, what are your plans for the afternoon?”
“Nothing much,” Yan Congyu replied. “Probably heading back to paint.”
Cheng Zhou had heard from Xu Jingyin that the painting of Gu Ji last time was Yan Congyu’s work and genuinely admired his skill. Seizing the moment while Gu Ji wasn’t around, he whispered, “Are you interested in seeing Gu Ji in women’s clothing?”
Yan Congyu: “…”
He momentarily lost focus, struggling to regain his composure. “What?”
Cheng Zhou asked mysteriously, “Would you like to paint Gu Ji dressed as a woman?”
Without a doubt, this was the greatest temptation Yan Congyu had faced since he first started learning to paint.
He hesitated before speaking, “Will Gu Ji agree?”
Cheng Zhou sighed, “He won’t. So, can you draw it secretly?”
Yan Congyu paused, feeling a slight temptation.
But he quickly dismissed the thought. He wouldn’t do anything Gu Ji was unwilling to do.
Xu Jingyin tapped Cheng Zhou’s head and said to Yan Congyu, “Don’t listen to him. He’s always coming up with wild ideas. If Xiao Gu finds out, he’ll toss him out along with his bed.”
Cheng Zhou turned his head, “Don’t you want to see it?”
Xu Jingyin adjusted his glasses, “…I have morals.”
“Well, I want to see it. I have no morals. Even if Brother Gu throws my bed out, I still want to see it.”
Xu Jingyin stared at Cheng Zhou, “Then where would I sleep on the upper bunk?”
Cheng Zhou was about to argue further when he suddenly spotted Gu Ji appearing around the corner. He immediately shut his mouth, pretending nothing had happened.
Gu Ji, holding his jacket, his hair slightly damp and a thin layer of sweat on his neck, casually asked, “What were you talking about?”
“Nothing much.”
Yan Congyu handed him a bottle of water, “Are you hot?”
“A little.” Gu Ji took the water and drank a sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. His breathing hadn’t yet steadied, and his voice was a bit low, “…The game isn’t over yet. Do you still want to watch?”
Cheng Zhou had already packed up his things. As roommates, they had come to see Gu Ji, not the game, and were ready to leave. “Let’s go, we can play games back at the dorm.”
Gu Ji glanced at Yan Congyu, “What about you? What are you doing later?”
Yan Congyu paused, “I’m heading back to the dorm too.”
“What about your roommates?” Gu Ji asked, “Don’t you usually hang out together?”
Yan Congyu shook his head, “We all do our own things.”
Their dormitory relationship was passable but somewhat distant, as they were often out and about. Lately, he had been spending more time with Gu Ji, so he was often on campus. Before this, he hadn’t even lived in the dorm, so opportunities to see his roommates were rare.
In fact, even if all his roommates lived on campus, they wouldn’t spend every day together. Close friendships like the ones in Gu Ji’s dorm were the exception.
Cheng Zhou tried to imagine it. If everyone in their dorm just did their own thing and ignored each other, he’d probably go crazy.
“Poor Yan,” he said sympathetically. “Just think of us as your roommates. We’re all family.”
Gu Ji leaned against a nearby seat and smiled, “Since you’re heading back anyway, why not come hang out at our dorm?”