He remembered that half an hour ago he had volunteered to do the post-match interview — now the host wanted to crawl back in time and slap himself. Wind really did have a high chance of getting MVP, but nobody had said that winning MVP meant you had to do a post-game interview!
… Damn it, who started the rumor that backstage Reling, Wind, and Cloud were cuddling and kissing and maybe you could interview all three at once?
The host had gambled and lost everything. He wanted to cry. Seeing Wei Ye beside him, radiating “I just want to get off work” energy, only made the host want to howl: with this brother’s mouth and lack of filter, he really didn’t dare ask anything crazy!
The two of them froze on stage; even their fake smiles briefly lined up in the same expression.
The viewers in the stream couldn’t hold it in.
[Fake-smile boy, Master Wei— if you want to see fake smiles, go to brother Mye!]
[LOL, he’s seriously giving me a perfunctory answer but why is it still so comedic?!]
[This is Wind’s fourth MVP and he still didn’t do the post-match interview. I’ll remember this grudge!]
[? Doesn’t anyone care about the MVP from the first game? Poor Cloud.]
[ Wind won’t come, Cloud come instead? I’m laughing, after eight BO3s, does anyone still not know PNG’s double-standard wild-card? Duo interview = smiling, solo interview = mmp, just from the face you’d think you’d lost the match, so real^^]
[Tbh, for real, last time Cloud did a solo interview he was so tight-lipped… I’ve watched him and Wind stream a lot recently, I’d forgotten he used to have that cold-cool persona (lol)]
[Suggest renaming to “Wild King Eight” hahaha]
[Cloud’s double standards are already my bible, kswl hehe^^]
[?? What circle are you talking about, how come there are circles I don’t know about, is there anything my noble PNG paid-fans can’t see?]
Over in room 48100, the two streamers were being real too.
“God A, give us your take on the match? Um… PNG played pretty well today.” Cheng Wensheng propped his chin in his hand, interacting with the chat during the post-match recap.
He read a few comments aloud: “So does Gaogao have to take the blame? Not really. From what I know Chen Chen’s temper is pretty mild. And Mior didn’t actually make any big mistakes—he was just out-laned and dove on; he still contributed in fights later…”
[Mid-jungle blood C, top lane invisible, bot lane two trash players]
[Full support; it’s wild that White Bird was dumpstered by Void Ranger -.-]
[Trivia: Ranger’s range is the same 600 as White Bird; didn’t expect that to blow me up. If it were a 675 range Caitlyn bullying a short-range champ, fine.]
[BP tilted resources to protect bot and it ends like this?]
[I’ll boldly say: if Gaogao had White Bird in game two, PNG could’ve held their high ground at 15 minutes, right?]
The chat scrolled fast; clearly there were a bunch of trolls stirring the pot.
“Wait… you can’t compare like that. How long has Gaogao been playing? Two Worlds appearances alone. Mior struggling against him is understandable, and game two’s bot lane collapsed from being ganked.”
Cheng Wensheng rubbed his forehead, had moderators ban a few rude smurf accounts, then explained, “During Spring when PNG played FR, bot lane got straight up outplayed 2v2. Today’s BO3 clearly shows bot has improved.”
“‘You accuse me of whitewashing’… fine, you won’t believe me now—wait a few rounds and we’ll see whose face gets slapped.” He shrugged at the camera. “In ten minutes the next match starts, NTT vs ELG, watch?”
At those last words, Cheng Wensheng was obviously asking his cohost.
Meng Xiyue didn’t hesitate: “Not watching, I’m logging off.”
He actually hung up the backstage voice chat after saying that.
[???? Help, I was mad at the haters and then double-standard Yue made me laugh hahaha]
[My bad, I forgot there’s someone here whose double standards rival Cloud’s (lol)]
[Wind’s match is over and you’re gonna run? Damn, can’t you at least chat with us a bit! It’s been so long QuQ]
[Heh heh, Yue, you run; when you return to play I’ll be waiting backstage to ambush you :)]
[Little crispy duck, the way you struggle is oddly charming ^^]
With a click the call was cut and only low white noise remained in the headset.
Cheng Wensheng: ?
Cheng Wensheng: Now I’m genuinely annoyed. :)
——
Backstage, PNG’s locker room.
Unlike the tension after their first Summer Split game, everyone was relaxed now. While Wei Ye did the stage interview, the rest of the brothers packed up or drank water, scrolled their phones, goofed around—way more cordial than the chat imagined.
Chen Chen gave Lin Zhaoxu a firm pat on the shoulder as encouragement, voice gentle: “We’ll talk about it later.”
Lin Zhaoxu, dazed in the middle of the room, snapped back to attention and nodded.
He rubbed the spot where the coach’s gossip-hand had smacked him.
Contrary to what fans assumed—“bot lane’s trash and will catch the blame”—Lin Zhaoxu actually had played solidly in the skirmishes, dragon fights, and late-game clashes; his lone issue was lane. Facing Gaogao and Col in a 2v2 and being pressured was something the coaching staff had expected.
But that’s also the area where the coach can give the least practical advice; shouting won’t help.
Botlane mechanics require talent and endless practice. The top ten marksmen in the world all have tendonitis because thousands of drills trump hundreds of hours of vod review.
Lin Zhaoxu was conflicted. Winning the match made him happy—his clutch performance deserved praise—but the experience in game two was awful: first game his lane got wrecked, second game they got dived repeatedly; the game felt nearly nonexistent. If they had lost after that, he’d have been sick to his stomach.
“So am I supposed to be happy or not?” Lin Zhaoxu frowned, thinking hard.
On the nearby sofa, Cheng Su finally looked up—he’d been about to comfort him but froze when he met his son’s expression: one moment gleeful, the next glum, like someone split personality.
Cheng Su immediately shelved his helpful instincts and rolled his eyes with thin disdain: “What’s your problem?”
Lin Zhaoxu waved him off, annoyed: “Don’t bother.”
“You getting cocky after the game?” Cheng Su sneered. “Wait till later, we’ll talk about your positioning on that last fight.”
“I move like a snake, you can’t catch me,” Lin Zhaoxu joked, then laughed and stepped back—nearly bumping into Sui Ning, who was turned away.
“Careful!” Ji Yunyu was quick and grabbed Sui Ning into his side.
“?” Sui Ning froze, nearly dropping the phone in his hand.
Ji Yunyu, still holding his arm, looked him up and down, then sighed in relief.
When his gaze landed on the chat screen displayed on Sui Ning’s phone, his lips tugged in mild displeasure. “...Who are you talking to? So absorbed you almost got run over by our son.”
“Xu Zhiyi,” Sui Ning admitted honestly. “He’s asking if he can post our group photo on Weibo. I was just about to ask you.”
Ji Yunyu’s eyes instantly brightened.
Sui Ning didn’t notice. He hesitated a little. “But that photo of us... uh, neither of us was looking at the camera. It’s not a great shot…”
That, of course, was just an excuse. He had his own private reason—getting caught sneaking glances at Ji Yunyu still made him feel a little awkward… and a little shy.
Not that he’d ever admit those last two words.
“Post it! It’s... a symbol of friendship. How could you not post it?” Ji Yunyu declared with righteous conviction, though inside he was secretly delighted. “You must post it.”
He pulled out his phone. “When’s Xu Zhiyi posting? I’ll go repost it.”
“He said tonight… but FR hasn’t left yet. We could retake it,” Sui Ning replied.
Ji Yunyu shook his head. “No. A retake wouldn’t be the same.”
Sui Ning: ?
The young man narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
Ji Yunyu’s expression turned perfectly upright and innocent.
…He didn’t look the least bit guilty. Seeing his calm face, Sui Ning pursed his lips, feeling an odd flicker of irritation.
“Fine.” He stared into Ji Yunyu’s bright eyes. “Then I’ll tell him.”
——
But once they were back at the base, neither had the time to think about that photo again.
The coaches shut the door to the analysis room. Chen Chen smiled faintly, pulling out a thick stack of review sheets. His expression made it clear: no one’s leaving tonight.
The five players: ...They were used to it by now.
The review lasted deep into the night, followed by the usual extra training rounds. By two or three in the morning, Sui Ning still hadn’t checked Weibo, and Ji Yunyu hadn’t mentioned it again.
As usual, the two of them duo-queued on the international server. Before long, Sui Ning forgot about the photo entirely. A textbook top-lane addict, he threw himself into every ranked game with complete focus—very little could distract him once he started.
Among PNG’s roster, the two of them trained the longest hours outside of training matches, often playing until two or three in the morning—and sometimes staying until the first pale light of dawn slipped through the windows. By then, everyone else had already shut down their PCs. Only the two of them remained in the quiet training room.
Ji Yunyu liked that solitude—and tonight was no exception.
He glanced casually at the clock on the screen: 3:17 a.m. Queue times were getting noticeably slower.
“I’m kinda hungry,” Ji Yunyu said, leaning back in his chair and looking at Sui Ning with a burning gaze. “Want to eat something?”
Sui Ning thought for a moment. “I’m fine… are you really hungry? Should I order you a late-night snack?”
Then he shook his head. “Actually, never mind. Eating this late isn’t healthy.”
“You, who stay up every night with me, dare say that?” Ji Yunyu smiled. “Besides, I don’t want takeout. The stuff around here tastes bad.”
He hung his headset around his neck. “How about wontons? The kind I cooked for you last time.”
Sui Ning chuckled. “Aren’t you the one who wants to eat? Why ask me?”
“I’ll make you some too. Don’t tell me you’d be ungrateful.”
“With you putting it that way, how could I refuse?”
“^^.”
Ji Yunyu grinned at him, eyes curving.
At that moment, Lin Zhaoxu pushed open the training room door and overheard the exchange: …
Still frustrated from today’s match—and after a one-on-one talk with Chen Chen—Lin Zhaoxu’s head was full of Gaogao’s laning details: smooth, clean, elegant, utterly dominant. How could he possibly sleep?
He’d tossed and turned in bed for over an hour before deciding to get up and run more custom games.
…He hadn’t expected that his team’s mid and jungle were once again still awake—and chatting between games, no less.
For some reason, Lin Zhaoxu felt a chill on his face—cold, and a little painful. Like he’d just been smacked across the cheek by a mouthful of dog food.
----------
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