SITS CH55

Chapter 55: A Few Interludes

With the Qingming Festival break over, the players returned to the base looking rather out of sorts. Acting coy and fidgety, Zhao Rui sidled up to Shen Man to strike up a conversation: “Captain, what on earth did you eat over the break? You got so much internal heat your mouth is completely chapped.”

What did he eat? The mere mention of it made anger flare up. Shen Man shot a glare at Xu Zhouye, who was grinning like a blooming flower right beside him.

“Why are you glaring at Xu Zhouye? Did you eat him?” Never one to stop halfway when shocking people, Zhao Rui blurted out.

Xu Zhouye: “Hehe.” His ge actually had “eaten” him.

A flush of red crept up the tips of Shen Man’s ears before he forcibly suppressed it. Looking at Zhao Rui expressionlessly, he said, “Since you want to move out, shouldn’t you let us meet your friend first?”

Lowering his head, Zhao Rui scuffed the toe of his shoe against the floor: “Well, about that…”

Shen Man said nothing, simply watching him in silence.

Zhao Rui stammered: “There’s a slight, um, how should I put it…”

Shen Man asked abruptly: “Male or female?”

Zhao Rui blurted instinctively: “Male.”

Silence—a dead, suffocating silence.

Shen Man wore a knowing half-smile.

Zhao Rui panicked: “No, wait—” Why had Shen Man suddenly thrown that question at him, catching him completely off guard and making him blurt out the truth?

Zhao Rui pleaded: “No, Captain, listen to my explanation.”

Shen Man said, “Explain.”

Scratching his head, Zhao Rui realized there wasn’t anything left to explain: “Fine. Since it’s a guy, can I move out?”

Shen Man said, “Even if it were a motorcycle, the answer is still no.”

Zhao Rui: “…”

How cruel can you be? Zhao Rui whined aggrievedly: “Then why did you even ask me that?!”

Shen Man said, “No ulterior motive. Purely satisfying my curiosity.”

Zhao Rui was rendered utterly speechless.

Truthfully, Shen Man couldn’t be blamed for this. Zhao Rui didn’t even dare bring the request to the manager himself. Permission to live outside the base was generally reserved for only two scenarios: either a player was ill and required specialized care, or a franchise superstar requested it while maintaining peak competitive form. Both cases were exceptionally rare, and Zhao Rui met neither criterion.

Without the base’s supervision, they were all young men in their prime—god knew how wild they would get day and night. Even if Shen Man agreed, the manager would never sign off on it.

“Give up on the idea. Impossible,” Shen Man said.

Zhao Rui trudged away wearing a funeral expression.

Beside him, Xu Zhouye rested his chin on his forearm, gazing at Shen Man with pitiful puppy eyes: “Ge, do I count as a franchise superstar?”

Shen Man said deadpan: “Don’t even think about it either.”

Xu Zhouye: “Wuuuuu.”

Claiming he didn’t want to was impossible. Having finally broken his fast and tasted meat, forcing him back onto a vegetarian diet was pure torture. Consequently, he shamelessly sneaked into Shen Man’s bedroom every single day; even if they couldn’t go all the way, kissing and cuddling was still wonderful.

More than once, he bumped right into ACE teammates on his way out of the room.

Astonishingly, nobody suspected a thing. Even the manager greeted Xu Zhouye enthusiastically: “Yo, visiting your ge again? What are you two playing?”

Xu Zhouye grinned: “Just playing a game.”

The manager asked, “What game is so addictive? Feels like you two have been playing it for days.”

Xu Zhouye said, “Just one of those romance simulation games.”

Surprised, the manager remarked: “You play that genre too? Quite broad tastes…”

Xu Zhouye smiled radiantly: “Yeah, dating is super fun.”

Inside the room, faintly overhearing their exchange, Shen Man nearly let out a cold laugh. He even began wondering what kind of expressions the roster would wear if they ever discovered his relationship with Xu Zhouye.

The spring split progressed smoothly, and UN’s performance this season turned out remarkably strong.

Luo Zhile, who had transferred from MIN to UN, displayed explosive form; his synergy with their Support, OI, was dazzling, securing the very first pentakill of this year’s spring split.

Since ACE was slated to face UN next week, the team reviewed VODs of that match several times together.

“Gorgeous mechanics,” even the coach couldn’t help praising. “Couldn’t tell Luo Zhile was this cracked back last split.”

“Can’t be helped. With MIN’s roster, even the Captain wouldn’t be able to carry them,” Liu Shishi remarked. “Is Zhang Chaoyun retiring after this split?”

“That’s what he said,” the coach replied. “Once he leaves, MIN is going to have an even rougher time.”

Such was the reality of esports: pouring in massive resources didn’t guarantee results.

Team synergy was an unpredictable chemical reaction. TKR stood as the prime example—poaching a roster of top-performing superstars, yet failing to capture a single World Championship title across three years.

MIN’s owner appeared to have thrown in the towel as well, spending zero money on big-name signings this split and simply promoting rookies straight from their youth academy.

Only because relegation had been abolished was MIN spared; in earlier years, they would have been booted down to the secondary league ages ago.

After wrapping up afternoon scrims, Shen Man launched a livestream that evening.

He had been streaming consistently these past few days, behaving so diligently that viewers felt unnerved.

[Something’s off. He’s clocked in on time four days in a row—this isn’t like him.]

[And he turned on his webcam with such a pleasant attitude!]

[Terrifying! Why is he glowing like a spring breeze? Looks like someone’s in love!]

[What? SLOW is dating?! With who, FEST?!]

[Should I believe I’m Emperor Qin Shi Huang, or believe those two actually hooked up?]

[Is it really strange for them to hook up? According to our investigations, they’ve been together for years.]

Speak of the devil—his rumored partner Xu Zhouye happened to walk past just then, casually popping a dried plum into Shen Man’s mouth. Slightly sour, the plum made Shen Man knit his brows.

“Too sour?” Xu Zhouye asked him.

“It’s alright,” Shen Man said.

Every frame of their interaction was captured live by the stream audience, instantly flooding the chat with dense waves of question marks.

“What did the cooking auntie make for lunch?” Shen Man asked.

“Pickled cabbage fish,” Xu Zhouye said. “I asked her to put extra chili in your portion.”

Shen Man: “Mm.”

That effortless intimacy, that domestic banter—their closeness was enough to send chills down the viewers’ spines.

[Don’t tell me they’re actually dating for real.]

[So what if they are?]

[Nothing much, just worried a breakup might tank ACE’s match performance.]

In competitive esports, playing poorly was the sole original sin. You could date a motorcycle for all anyone cared, so long as you never lost a grand final. As long as you won, everything was forgiven—fans would instantly transform into spin-cycle washing machines to defend even the most bizarre kinks: Why can’t he date a motorcycle? Are you speciesist, or just jealous of our team’s win rate? Honestly, one man and one bike make a gorgeous couple.

And so it went.

After Shen Man shot down his request to move out, Zhao Rui remained listless for days, drooping around the base like a wilted plant.

“What’s wrong with you?” the manager asked him. “Got dumped?”

Zhao Rui shook his head without a word.

The manager warned: “I’m telling you right now, Zhao Rui—dating is fine, just don’t let it mess up your gameplay.”

Zhao Rui mumbled: “I won’t, Manager…”

The manager said, “Good. Pace yourself!”

The real reason the manager disliked players dating was the constant risk of emotional turbulence derailing competitive focus. Being young men in their early twenties, their passions ran hot and volatile, making emotional stability fragile.

True to the manager’s fears, despite promising otherwise, Zhao Rui failed to recalibrate his mindset.

During their weekend match against UN, he committed repeated blunders—getting caught out multiple times while establishing vision and bursted down instantly, forcing ACE into 4v5 disadvantages that cost them pivotal teamfights and handed them their very first loss of the split.

After the series, everyone wore grim expressions. As UN’s players walked over for handshakes, Shen Man crossed paths with Luo Zhile once again, whom he hadn’t seen since the escape room outing.

Clasping Shen Man’s hand, Luo Zhile hesitated as if wanting to speak, ultimately swallowing his words and turning away with a complicated expression.

Anyone else might have wondered what Luo Zhile wanted to say, but Shen Man had never harbored much curiosity about others—besides, he had far more pressing matters to address right now.

“Zhao Rui.” Outside the player lounge, Shen Man called out to him. “Come here. We need to talk alone.”

Finding an empty corner of the corridor, Shen Man fixed a steady gaze on him.

Drawing in a deep breath, Zhao Rui lowered his head: “Sorry. Today was my fault.”

“What happened?” Shen Man asked. “Did you break up?”

“No. I just feel like I’ve let him down terribly,” Zhao Rui confessed quietly. “He treats me so well—he introduced me to all his friends, yet I… I don’t even dare mention his name…”

Shen Man: “…”

Zhao Rui continued: “I want to introduce him to you guys and give him a proper place in my life, but I’m scared…” Scared of gossip, scared of strange, judgmental stares.

He felt unworthy of such earnest, unreserved love.

Shen Man said, “There’s no need to jump straight to the worst-case scenario from the start.” He paused, adding calmly, “I can’t speak for others, but I certainly won’t pass judgment on your relationship.”

That much was undeniable.

Given Shen Man’s temperament, he truly never meddled. He cared solely about match outcomes; whom Zhao Rui chose to date held zero interest for him. Even if Zhao Rui rolled a motorcycle into the base tomorrow and introduced it as his soulmate, Shen Man would merely lift an eyelid and remind him deadpan not to be late for afternoon scrims.

“Everyone has the right to choose,” Shen Man said. “Choice is free, provided you are willing to bear the consequences of the choice you make.”

Shen Man rarely lectured anyone; he disliked interfering in others’ decisions and had zero desire to play life mentor.

In all his years on the roster, this was the first time Zhao Rui had ever heard Shen Man offer such patient counsel. Unbeknownst to everyone, something subtle had shifted within Shen Man…

“Is your love strong enough for you to bear those consequences?” Shen Man posed the question. “Think it through carefully on your own.”

Zhao Rui pressed his lips together.

“Next week, I don’t want to see you in this awful state again,” Shen Man said. “Don’t let your personal issues drag down the rest of your teammates.”

Zhao Rui nodded: “Understood.”

With the conversation concluded, Shen Man walked away. What decision Zhao Rui ultimately reached was his own cross to bear.

After wrestling fiercely with himself for several days, Zhao Rui finally made his decision on Wednesday afternoon.

The weather was quite pleasant that day. Sitting by the window where the afternoon glare grew harsh, Shen Man drew the sheer curtains halfway shut.

With no afternoon scrims scheduled, everyone was grinding solo queue when Zhao Rui suddenly walked through the training room doorway, trailed by a tall man. Sporting a cascade of long hair, the man was strikingly handsome; unlike Shen Man’s icy, sharp-edged beauty, his features carried an androgynous, ethereal grace.

Someone so striking naturally drew eyes, causing every gaze in the room to pivot toward the entrance.

Visibly nervous, Zhao Rui gripped the hem of his jersey. Taking a deep breath as if summoning weeks of courage, he announced: “Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Meng Qizhi.”

His voice rang out loud and clear, ensuring nobody missed a word.

Ever supportive, Liu Shishi stood up first, striding over to Meng Qizhi and extending a hand: “Pleasure to meet you, pleasure.”

The two shook hands.

“Why didn’t you bring him around sooner, man?” Liu Shishi teased. “Turns out this brother is this good-looking—you were hoarding him so we wouldn’t get a peek, huh?”

Xu Xiaochong chimed in: “Told you Zhao Rui was hiding something—”

Xu Zhouye smiled warmly from the side as well.

The relaxed, welcoming atmosphere left Zhao Rui somewhat flustered; he had never anticipated such an effortless reception.

“You guys… aren’t surprised?” Zhao Rui asked weakly.

“Sigh.” Clapping Zhao Rui on the shoulder, Liu Shishi said, “Bro, back when you accidentally retweeted that GV clip on Weibo, we already put two and two together…”

Zhao Rui: “…”

Liu Shishi added: “It’s been years since then, what’s left to be surprised about?”

Zhao Rui panicked: “No, hey, listen to me—I genuinely didn’t retweet that GV! My account got hacked!”

Rolling his eyes, Liu Shishi mimicked him in a singsong mocking tone: “My~ account~ got~ hacked~“

Zhao Rui: “…” Bro, you’re such a bastard.

Liu Shishi pressed on: “If your account got hacked, then who is this handsome brother standing right next to you?”

Zhao Rui found himself momentarily incapable of mounting a defense.

Yet the true horror was still to come. Meng Qizhi’s voice was soft and pleasant to the ear, though the words he uttered sent a cold sweat breaking out across Zhao Rui’s back. Glancing sideways at Zhao Rui, he asked gently: “GV? What GV?”

Liu Shishi grinned: “Hehe, you didn’t know? Zhao Rui was watching GV late at night, mixed up his alt account, and posted it straight onto his main Weibo—”

Zhao Rui shrieked in sheer terror: “Don’t listen to his bullshit! I really didn’t post that!!”

Meng Qizhi murmured: “Oh?”

Liu Shishi beamed: “Come, come, I still have the screenshot saved. Let me show you.”

Zhao Rui’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull.

Everyone nearby roared with laughter at the spectacle, a faint smile touching Shen Man’s eyes as well. He could tell Liu Shishi was deliberately bantering to dissolve Zhao Rui’s awkwardness—and honestly, it was for the best. At least Zhao Rui’s worst fears never materialized. Having been teammates for three years, climbing together from rock bottom to the world stage, they might bicker endlessly on regular days, yet deep down regarded one another as comrades they could trust with their backs.

Glancing toward Xu Zhouye and catching him staring back with a radiant grin, Shen Man pulled out his phone and sent him a message:

— Why are you staring at me? Want to come out too?
— No way, definitely not coming out.
— ?
— If we come out, the manager will never let me sneak into your room every day.
— …
— Having a secret affair is way more thrilling. Just thinking about sneaking in to [censored] ge, and [censored], makes me [censored]—does ge like it when I [censored] into your [censored], filling you up completely…

What kind of feral, explicit filth was this? Shen Man thought he could practically use these chat logs to report Xu Zhouye for workplace sexual harassment. Still, he wasn’t worried about Xu Zhouye; the kid wasn’t nearly as conflicted as Zhao Rui, and if Xu Zhouye ever did want to go public like Zhao Rui had, Shen Man had zero objections on his end.

His sole concern was how it might impact Xu Zhouye.