Overwhelmed by a flood of “prayer candles,” “R.I.P.,” “rest in peace,” and “he was so good I could cry to death,” all dripping with sarcasm, Xu Meng’s fans were utterly dumbfounded.
They were used to fan wars starting with direct insults and family curses—but this time, the opposing side kept calling him “Baby Mengmeng” more affectionately than his own fans did. The Lemons (Xu Meng’s fandom) were momentarily too stunned to react.
But everyone had gone through compulsory language education, after all—they quickly detected the deeper meaning behind those comments.
…Damn it!! They’re cursing Mengmeng!!
Unacceptable!
What the hell was wrong with these nobodies—so filthy-mouthed! The Lemons, like cats whose tails had been stepped on, jumped three feet high, yelling and swearing to fight the esports fans until dawn—
But soon they ran into a big problem.
If they responded to the sarcastic “yin-yang sword” (mocking tone) with plain swear words, it just didn’t feel satisfying—it felt like they were losing the upper hand. Yet trying to counter with equally layered sarcasm wasn’t easy either. The weakest of their opponents had at least 365 days of suspension history for verbal combat; their trash talk came in polished combos.
So they had to pull out the ultimate move—
“We could go wait for them offline,” one Lemon suggested. “Aren’t they playing a match soon? We can print some anti-banners to embarrass them.”
There were more extreme ideas—like throwing things—but no one quite dared go that far yet.
The few more sensible fans felt uneasy. “That’s… not a good idea, right? The situation isn’t even clear yet…”
But the fired-up radicals had already decided what the “truth” was. “What’s there to be afraid of? It’s obviously Sui Ning’s fault!”
And just like that, they convinced themselves.
The motivated Lemons went to the official HPL website. After fumbling through a bunch of confusing keywords, they finally found the regular season ticket page.
Don’t get the wrong idea—they weren’t about to spend money on their rival. They just wanted to see where this so-called “match” was being held. But… wait, this HPL thing was that popular?
They scrolled through the homepage listings—everything was sold out.
“Seems like they’re not an easy target…” a timid fan muttered, already losing their nerve.
“…So what? Mengmeng’s debut show was sold out too—over six thousand people in the audience.” The leading Lemons sneered. “Probably the HPL venue’s just small.”
In their minds, the “arenas” where esports actors competed were just fancy sets rented by drama crews. No way could real matches take place in such luxurious venues.
At best, it’d be a three- or four-thousand-person hall. Some tournaments were probably held in internet cafs!
The Lemons scoffed. They memorized PNG’s name, searched it up directly, and found the first result:
HPL Summer Season > Regular Matches > Ticket Sales > By Team: PNG > Match List
June 2 – Longhu Esports Arena, Shanghai
PNG vs AQ (1:00 p.m.)
Capacity: 25,000 [Sold Out]
As expected—sold out too. At least now they knew the location—Shanghai…
…Wait.
Did that say how many people?
The Lemons’ hands started trembling.
Twenty-five thousand… how many times bigger was that than six thousand again?
They swallowed hard and kept scrolling. PNG’s recent matches were all at Longhu Esports Arena. From the photos, the place looked ridiculously grand.
A few of the major fan leaders felt a bad premonition. With shaky hands, they clicked the button at the bottom: [Find tickets currently on sale this month].
A cute three-tailed fox mascot popped up on the screen, looking apologetic.
System Message: Dear Summoner, we’re terribly sorry!
The team [PNG Esports Club] has no available tickets for [June].
The next ticket sale will begin on June 24 (Monday) at 2:00 p.m. Please click “Favorite” or follow the official club page to receive ticket updates promptly!
The subtext between the lines was clear: Trying to buy tickets this late? Why not just stay in the womb until you evolve into a full idiot? Next time, be earlier, dumbass!
The Lemons: …
“Um…” a small fan hesitantly asked, “a-are we still going…?”
The opponent’s power level seemed way beyond what they’d imagined, and now they weren’t so sure anymore.
——
June 2, 12:30 p.m. Little Shark Streaming Platform – HPL Official Livestream Room.
The mid-lane prodigy “Wind” had risen out of nowhere. Just before his debut, haters had launched a smear campaign on Weibo—and the club’s official lawsuit had sent the online drama to its peak.
Though this wasn’t technically the opening match, PNG’s debut face-off against AQ was undoubtedly the focus of the season.
HPL knew it too—so they brought in top-tier commentators Qing Ci and Chao Mi to keep things professional and high-energy.
By the time the countdown timer—29:56—appeared on the screen, the livestream room was already packed with fans waiting to watch. And then, two familiar faces appeared on-screen simultaneously.
The chubby commentator was the first to speak. “Welcome, Summoners, to the official HPL broadcast room. I’m your host today, Chao Mi.”
“I’m Qing Ci,” his co-host followed up. “Today’s match is between PNG and AQ—two teams that ranked 14th and 13th respectively in the spring season, so you could say they’re old rivals. Chao Mi, what’s your take?”
Chao Mi smiled slightly. “My take? I’ll be watching from the commentator’s booth, of course.”
“After all, we’re licensed commentators—we can enter the venue.”
It was a lame joke, but his tongue was sharp as ever. “Unlike some poor fans who came all this way only to realize the security checkpoint outside is quite large—you can’t get in without a ticket.”
[6666, Chao Mi’s roasting again.]
[I’m dying, I laughed so hard when those brainless people got kicked out—my whole building heard me.]
[Too bad I didn’t get a ticket; I would’ve smacked them myself, damn it.]
[Saw the clip—security literally dragged them out, those guards deserve medals.]
[Who do they think they are, throwing a tantrum at Feng-bao’s debut? ^^]
The chat filled with sarcastic jeers.
The Lemons lurking in the livestream: …this is… kind of embarrassing.
Some of them had even disguised themselves under layers—caps, masks, sunglasses—and showed up at the venue under the blazing June sun.
But to their shock, the security zone was far bigger than the “internet caf” they had imagined. Sneaking in was absolutely impossible.
As for holding signs that said “Sui Ning Will Flop”?
…Were they insane? Did they have a death wish?
If they hadn’t arrived late—after most of the PNG fans were already inside—their fate might have been far worse than simply being escorted out by security.
The whole scene was captured and posted on Weibo, spreading like wildfire within hours.
Naturally, Chao Mi had heard about it—and he was utterly speechless.
With a stiff smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he said, half-joking and half-mocking, “The Esports Arena is an official venue. At HPL, our philosophy is to bring only passion and dreams inside. Some new fans might not quite understand that yet—maybe they’ll learn for next time.”
Qing Ci stifled a laugh. “Exactly. We do hope everyone can adapt to local customs.”
[666666]
[Is this… elite-level sarcasm? Using official tone to shade people? Genius.]
[Chao Mi, my god—you basically told them ‘don’t bring your nonsense here’ without even naming names.]
[Good thing it’s these two commentators—they’ve got guts. Anyone else would’ve been too scared to even fart on mic.]
[Yeah, these two are top-tier commentators x2. The officials knew what they were doing.]
“But,” Qing Ci continued, pulling the topic back, “it’s understandable that this match is attracting a lot of new viewers.”
“PNG has put a ton of effort into preparing for the summer season. They replaced their veteran Ghost and decided to start a complete newcomer—Wind! That’s rare. Most teams prefer to ease rookies in alongside veterans.”
Chao Mi nodded. “Right, but that also shows how much faith PNG has in Wind. They’re not leaving themselves any room to fall back.”
Qing Ci added, “It’s said that before signing with PNG, Wind was actually the top recruit Cpyhc’s team wanted to snatch up—their so-called ‘white moonlight.’ Since Navic doesn’t have a match today, I wonder if God C might be watching this debut?”
[Help, can you stop stabbing us N-fans? I came here to laugh at celebrity wannabes, not suffer!]
[Damn it, as an N-fan I don’t even know whether to cheer or cry if Wind wins!]
[Cpyhc: Cheer.]
[……WTF??? Is that the real one???]
[OMG God Yue is actually watching!!!! HELP.]
[I’m doomed… why can’t I stay loyal to one mid-jungle duo… Cloud, do something cool quick!!]
[Why does everything have to be about CPs?! I think mutual respect between rivals is even better!]
The commentators couldn’t see the chaos in chat, so they just kept going.
Chao Mi: “Today marks Wind’s first-ever appearance on the HPL stage—he has no prior experience in major tournaments. His opponent, AQ’s mid-laner Dami(Rice), is a seasoned veteran. Let’s hope our rookie keeps calm and plays his best!”
Qing Ci followed up: “Indeed, and as we can see, the venue is packed. Both teams’ fans are full of energy. Oh wow—director, look at that shot! Wind’s got quite a fanbase already—let’s have them say hi!”
The camera switched to PNG’s side of the audience. Fans wearing “Feng-bao Love” headbands waved their glowing signs at the camera.
Since there wasn’t yet an organized fan club or unified chant, the signs were all over the place—from straightforward ones like [Feng-bao VIP Lick Zone] and [Feng-bao Ssshhh I’m Obsessed] to poetic ones like [Ride with the Wind] and [Listen to the Wind]—and even a bold one quoting The Song of the Great Wind: [The great wind rises, clouds fly high].
Men and women alike waved their boards and shouted at the top of their lungs—
“Feng-bao—charge ahhhhhhhh!!”
“Let’s go PNG!!! Go Feng-bao!!!”
“My summer has finally found you——!”
——
Backstage, in PNG’s lounge.
The players were making their final preparations before going on stage.
“Lift your head—yes, like that…” The makeup artist crouched in front of Lin Zhaoxu. “Close your eyes. Look at these dark circles—how much concealer am I supposed to use to cover them?”
Lin Zhaoxu grumbled in protest. “They’re not that bad!”
The makeup artist glared. “Eyes closed!”
“Oh…”
“You’re all players. Look at Feng-bao, then look at you. He doesn’t even need concealer.” The makeup artist sounded both scolding and exasperated. “Take care of your skin properly. Don’t waste that baby face of yours. Feng-bao’s skin practically glows without any makeup!”
Lin Zhaoxu muttered, “Tch, I’m a man.”
Sui Ning: …
Sui Ning raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He had been the first to get his makeup done. The entire process took less than thirty seconds—but his face had been pinched and poked for much longer…
Lin Zhaoxu, eyes still closed, subtly raised one finger in front of him—“1.”
Sui Ning was baffled.
The HPL pro league was just as professional as in his previous life—players were the face of esports.
To set a positive example for the youth, the league required all players attending offline matches to appear “energetic, clean, and presentable,” avoiding any impression of being “sloppy, greasy, or addicted gamers.”
For the team, this meant wearing clean, uniform jerseys, and having a brief makeup and hair session before the first official match.
“Hurry up, hurry up, is everyone ready?” Chen Chen poured water into paper cups and handed one to each of them. “Take it, but don’t drink too much. Give me your gear—I’ll have the staff set it up for you.”
Ji Yunyu handed over both his and Sui Ning’s equipment, and Cheng Su, who was resting with his eyes closed, passed Lin Zhaoxu’s along as well.
Wei Ye was last, reluctantly saying goodbye to his keyboard covered in “Eriri waifu” stickers.
Chen Chen: …What is wrong with him?
After handing everything to the event staff, Chen Chen looked toward Sui Ning. “I just went outside—it’s a full house. Nervous?”
Sui Ning shook his head, smiling faintly. “Not at all. Actually, I’m kind of excited.”
And he meant it.
His heart was pounding harder than ever—not from fear or anxiety, but from a rush of rebirth.
But from a rush of rebirth.
“Ready? It’s time!” Assistant coach Sun Wei pushed open the door. “AQ’s already heading out. They’re calling for us!”
“Okay, okay!” Chen Chen glanced around the room. When his eyes landed on Lin Zhaoxu, he sighed. “Forget it, that’s as good as it’s getting.”
The makeup artist agreed. “Couldn’t have said it better.” She packed up her tools.
Lin Zhaoxu: “Damn, don’t make it sound like I’m some kind of freak.”
“You’re not,” Cheng Su said flatly. His tone was almost comforting. “It suits your personality.”
Lin Zhaoxu squinted. “What personality?”
Cheng Su: “Idiot personality.”
“…How much is the fine for fighting before a match?”
Chen Chen ignored them and opened the door. “Cut the nonsense. Line up in order and move out.”
The five of them straightened up and followed their coach.
The dim, narrow corridor backstage wasn’t long, but it wasn’t short either. The players followed one another down the hall.
The farther they went, the louder the sound—thundering music and roaring cheers bled through the walls into the tight, enclosed space, carrying a pulse of adrenaline that made their hearts race.
Sui Ning walked in the middle of the group, eyes fixed forward.
At the end of the passage, a staff member spotted them and reached for the door handle.
A faint light flickered first, followed by bursts of colorful, flashing beams—and then, the doors to the stage swung wide open.
A blaze of white light flooded the corridor.
Ji Yunyu turned his head suddenly, lips moving.
Backlit by the stage lights, Sui Ning couldn’t see his expression clearly; the noise drowned out his words.
But somehow, he understood—and smiled, replying with a soft, “You too.”
Ji Yunyu seemed to grin, bumping his fist against Sui Ning’s.
The music swelled to its peak. The host’s voice boomed across the stage, brimming with energy— “Let’s welcome today’s other stars—P! N! G!”
“They are: Top laner Myerii, Jungler Cloud, Mid laner Wind, Maksman Mior, and Support Erllit!”
“Ahhhhhhhhhh——!!!”
“Go PNG!! Go!!”
The blinding spotlight hit the entrance, so bright that Sui Ning instinctively narrowed his eyes.
Fans caught that moment on camera and screamed in delight. “Feng-bao!!!”
“Ahhhh is he blushing???”
“I’m officially a face fan now—Feng-bao, go get ‘em!!”
“Help! He’s so handsome—so cute—!!”
A flood of milky white light poured over the stage, like a silver galaxy spilling from a dream, illuminating the path from the entrance to the competition zone.
At the end of that glowing path stood the seats marked Phoenix Nirvana Gaming—noisy yet serene.
Sui Ning and his teammates stepped forward and bowed deeply.
----------
No comments:
Post a Comment