Sui Ning was the first to notice Lin Zhaoxu standing by the door of the training room. Looking surprised, he asked, “Mior, you’re still up?”
Noticing the odd look on the other’s face, he hesitated. “...Hungry?”
You couldn’t really blame him for asking. None of their teammates ever had sleeping problems—especially Lin Zhaoxu, who had once been mocked by his roommate Cheng Su for sleeping even more soundly than a pig.
Only when Sui Ning occasionally got up late at night to find something to eat and saw the lights in the training room on would he come by to check.
Lin Zhaoxu’s mouth twitched. “Not hungry. I just ate.” Ate dog food. Cold, emotional dog food.
Sui Ning let out a slow “oh.” “Then… you can’t sleep?”
Lin Zhaoxu nodded.
Ji Yunyu glanced at his team’s marksman a few times and helped him turn on the computer.
“Thanks.” Lin Zhaoxu closed the glass door of the training room, sighed, waved at Ji Yunyu, and shuffled over to his seat.
“What’s with the sighing?” Ji Yunyu shot him a sidelong glance. “You won the match, and you’re still not happy? You’re one of a kind.”
Lin Zhaoxu averted his gaze, keeping his tone casual. “Nothing. Is sighing a crime now?”
He muttered this as he logged into his international server account and queued for ranked, fingers never stopping.
What, his rebellious phase now? Ji Yunyu was speechless.
He exchanged a look with Sui Ning, and both of them saw the same meaning in the other’s eyes—looks like their son Xu was crushed into depression by Yu Gao.
Facing away from Lin Zhaoxu, Ji Yunyu subconsciously tugged at his fringe and gave Sui Ning a helpless, toothache-like grimace. He could understand the feeling of being disheartened, but he couldn’t quite relate.
Sui Ning blinked at him: Not going to comfort him?
Ji Yunyu spread his hands: …What am I supposed to say? My kind of burnout was different from his.
The mighty “new-generation jungle king,” Ji Yunyu had rarely ever been outplayed by another jungler since his debut. His moments of frustration hadn’t come from opponents—but from teammates.
He had always loved mid-jungle synergy, but after nearly a year playing with He Yaohui, he still felt isolated in the jungle. Even when ahead in kills and gold, everything felt like a castle in the sky—fragile and ready to crumble.
Fans and commentators loved to say Ji Yunyu’s old playstyle was “independent,” but at the core, it was because he had once tried to entrust his back to He Yaohui, only to be met with minimal practice hours and complete refusal to communicate. Without trust between mid and jungle, Ji Yunyu had been forced to play on eggshells, afraid that the slightest mistake would make him unable to carry.
But after meeting Sui Ning, that anxiety had long disappeared. Ji Yunyu had given 200% of his trust—he trusted Sui Ning more than any fan ever could, and never once wavered. Perhaps because of that, since Sui Ning joined the team, Ji Yunyu had never felt that kind of hopeless slump again.
Which was why, seeing Lin Zhaoxu like this now, he actually found it... a bit novel.
The air in the training room grew a little strange.
Taking a deep breath, Sui Ning spoke casually, “I’m a bit thirsty. I’ll get some water.”
As he passed Ji Yunyu, he tugged lightly at his sleeve.
Ji Yunyu went silent and followed.
——
The two of them entered the small kitchen on the first floor.
Sui Ning hesitated, picking up a cup from the counter. “What should we do?”
“It’s fine. He’ll figure it out himself. Didn’t Chen Chen already talk to him?” Ji Yunyu crossed his arms. “It’s not like it’s his first day as a pro. Just let him be.”
At that, Sui Ning silently looked up at him.
Ji Yunyu: “…”
Sui Ning blinked.
“……”
…Damn it.
“Fine, fine, fine, I’ll talk to him. I’ll comfort him, okay?” Ji Yunyu covered his face with one hand, utterly defeated.
Who could possibly resist that rare, soft, pleading look?
Sui Ning’s lips curved slightly.
Ji Yunyu shot him a glance, then asked, “But seriously—what am I even supposed to say?”
“...I don’t know.” Sui Ning fell silent.
After a moment’s thought, he swirled the cup in his hand and tentatively suggested, “Maybe… something sweet? That’s what people online recommend.”
A straight guy could only think of something like that.
Ji Yunyu: “…” Kind of dumb. Kind of cute.
“Sure, whatever. Son Xu’s a foodie anyway. If he’s too stuffed, maybe he’ll forget about being depressed.” Ji Yunyu sighed and opened the fridge. “I’ll just cook him a bowl of wontons while I’m at it.”
“Mm.”
Sui Ning filled his cup with warm water and added a bit of honey.
Ji Yunyu eyed the cup out of the corner of his eye, his tone sour. “Wow, Feng-bao made honey water himself. Our Feng-bao is so gentle. I’m seriously going to cry.”
Sui Ning couldn’t help but laugh and nudged him with his toe. “Cut it out—you and your sarcasm again.”
Ji Yunyu didn’t dodge. “What sarcasm? I’m being honest. I’m jealous.”
Sui Ning sighed. “Don’t make it sound like you’ve never had any before.”
Ji Yunyu puffed up his cheeks and let out a few muffled grumbles.
——
Before long, Sui Ning returned to the training room carrying a cup of honey water.
Lin Zhaoxu was still waiting in queue, staring blankly at the screen. When Sui Ning set the cup beside him, Lin Zhaoxu blinked. “For me?”
“Mm.”
“Damn, awesome! I was just thirsty.” Lin Zhaoxu brightened immediately, lifting the cup and taking a few big gulps while sneaking glances at Sui Ning’s expression out of the corner of his eye.
He gulped it down noisily. Noticing Sui Ning’s serious face, Lin Zhaoxu didn’t even bother trying to taste where the sweetness came from. His words were a bit slurred as he mumbled, “Feng-bao, you’re not trying to comfort me, are you?”
Sui Ning just looked at him without expression.
“I’m really fine, no need to worry about me.” Lin Zhaoxu grinned, forcing a laugh.
But his smile quickly faded. He forced his eyes back to the computer screen.
His right hand fidgeted with the mouse, clicking aimlessly as he awkwardly tried to change the subject. “Why is it taking so long to find a match, even on the international server? What time is it overseas right now?”
Sui Ning still didn’t speak.
Lin Zhaoxu froze, finally unable to ignore that silent stare.
After fidgeting in discomfort for a while, he finally raised both hands in surrender. “Bro, stop looking at me! The coach already talked to me this afternoon—it’s really fine!”
Sui Ning was quiet for a moment before asking, “What did the coach say?”
Lin Zhaoxu chuckled. “Feng-bao, you’re not thinking the coach scolded me so bad I got depressed, are you?”
Sui Ning shook his head. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“...Yeah.” Lin Zhaoxu’s fingers twitched slightly. “He didn’t really say anything. I didn’t make any big mistakes anyway.”
The blue glow of the screen reflected faintly on his face as he turned his eyes away. “He just… tweaked my training schedule a bit. Told me to put in some extra practice.”
PNG’s players each trained about eleven hours a day as a baseline. When they weren’t competing, Sui Ning and Ji Yunyu often trained on their own up to fourteen to seventeen hours. Lin Zhaoxu averaged around thirteen—but he was an early riser, sometimes missing overlap with the mid-jungle duo.
In terms of hours and matches, Lin Zhaoxu had never slacked off. Even in actual best-of-three sets, though he occasionally played too aggressively, he could always stabilize when it mattered and deliver solid damage output.
Even if his stats didn’t look pretty, the coaching staff clearly saw his value—they wouldn’t scapegoat him. After the match, Chen Chen had talked with him not to criticize, but to encourage him.
…So on the surface, everything seemed fine. Why did he still feel so dejected? Lin Zhaoxu lowered his eyes. It was the same question he’d been asking himself.
He’d thought about it all night—tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, nearly waking up Cheng Su.
“How do I put it…”
For some reason, Lin Zhaoxu suddenly felt like talking to Sui Ning. He slumped in his gaming chair bonelessly. “Maybe sometimes… not making mistakes hurts more than making them.”
The words were vague, but Sui Ning immediately understood.
——If you lose because you made mistakes, it just means you didn’t perform well enough—you can fix that next time.
But if you didn’t make any mistakes and still lost? If you gave it everything within your power and still couldn’t win—then you’re like Sun Wukong trying to somersault his way out of the Buddha’s palm, only to be toyed with again and again by Yu Gao.
It’s not that you played badly. You just weren’t good enough. Not that you’re weak—just not strong enough yet.
That was the conclusion Lin Zhaoxu had come to after thinking all night.
It was the simplest truth imaginable. But for a young man who’d been a fixture on every national marksman leaderboard, who’d stood out from among hundreds of millions of players before even turning twenty—it meant shattering his pride and rebuilding it from the ground up to truly accept his own limitations and realize, “I’m still that far from the top.”
The disappointment and frustration weren’t directed at anyone else—only at himself.
And perhaps that was why it hurt even more. ADC stood for AD Carry, but instead of carrying, he’d been crushed in a key match and dragged his team down.
The thought made Lin Zhaoxu tip back the cup and drain the rest of the honey water in one gulp. The cup was instantly empty. He couldn’t even tell anymore if he was drinking plain water—the sweetness had faded into something unrecognizable.
Sui Ning noticed the faint redness around his eyes and fell silent.
After a while, the black-haired young man spoke softly. “I once heard a true story. There was a player—let’s call him Player A. In his first year after debuting, his team won the national championship. It was the team’s first title in history. They represented China at Worlds, and everyone had high hopes for them…”
Lin Zhaoxu frowned. “Wait, what team was that? I’ve never heard of it. Represented China, first year debut... Who was that? None of that matches anyone I know.”
“……”
“Uh… is this some kind of motivational story you made up?”
Sui Ning glared at him. “Are you going to listen or not?”
“…Listening.”
His interruption broke the flow entirely. Sui Ning sighed, rubbing his forehead, then quickly continued, “That team dominated the domestic league that year. Player A was hailed as the strongest new-generation mid-laner—the one most likely to defeat the Korean ‘Demon King.’ At that time, the Demon King had already led his team to multiple consecutive world titles, with FMVP trophies piling up…”
Lin Zhaoxu scratched his head. “So Player A’s a mid-laner? And the Demon King’s who? If you mean the top Korean mid-laner right now, that’s False from team UG, right? But they never won back-to-back championships—S3 and S5 were theirs, S4 was Europe and the US…”
“……”
“…Sorry, go on.”
Sui Ning took a deep breath. “Anyway, at that time, everyone—fans, media, even his own team—had immense faith in Player A. Player A himself believed it too. He wanted to prove to the world that Chinese mid-laners were no weaker than Korean ones. He wanted everyone to remember his ID, so he decided to solo-kill the Demon King on the Worlds stage to prove it.”
Lin Zhaoxu nearly choked. “Pfft!”
He burst out laughing. “What the hell, that’s ridiculous! What kind of brain logic is that?”
“…He was just being simple-minded back then. Their team met the Demon King’s in the quarterfinals—and he actually tried it,” Sui Ning said, smiling faintly. “Of course, he failed.”
A confident Flash. A confident ult. That year at Worlds, because of Sui Ning’s recklessness and arrogance, his team—China’s last remaining seed in the top eight—paid a heavy price.
After the match, he couldn’t even open his Weibo anymore. The hate was so overwhelming—insults, accusations, private messages flooding in until the app crashed.
“Well, no surprise there.” Lin Zhaoxu shrugged. “If the other guy was that kind of world-dominating player, unless he’s in a slump, facing a new team or rookie mid would just be bullying. I bet that player A got roasted alive.”
Sui Ning thought for a moment, then nodded. “More than roasted. If you ever pulled something like that and failed, you’d probably get the same treatment.”
Lin Zhaoxu was speechless. “Why the hell would I do something like that?”
Sui Ning tapped his chin thoughtfully. “…To challenge the king. Don’t you want to?”
“And,” he continued softly, “Player A didn’t make any mistakes—but he still lost. The Demon King was just that much stronger.”
Lin Zhaoxu fell silent.
Sui Ning went on. “I’m not finished. The match was overseas. When they lost and came back home, the whole team was cursed online—people saying they should all die, especially that arrogant mid-laner A. For some reason, Player A never deleted any of the comments. A year later, every single person who’d insulted him apologized. Do you know why?”
Lin Zhaoxu’s heart stirred. “…Why?”
Sui Ning raised his brows slightly, met the boy’s eyes, and said each word clearly: “Because they were world champions.”
“….” Lin Zhaoxu let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, fair enough.”
What works faster to shut haters up than a championship trophy?
The story had no names, no context—obviously fake. Feng-bao’s way of comforting people was truly terrible. Lin Zhaoxu almost wanted to laugh again, but when he looked up and met Sui Ning’s gentle yet steady gaze, something in his chest went tight.
It was just Yu Gao. Not a multi-time world champion, not even someone whose team had ever made top eight at Worlds. If he was already this crushed now, what would happen when they faced the bot lanes of TL or Navic? Would he just break down completely? If PNG really made it that far, would he still have the courage to challenge the throne?
Lin Zhaoxu asked himself silently: Yu Gao could R-flash without hesitation in a critical fight—could he?
His fingers twitched against the desk.
After a long silence, he finally chuckled again, the sound turning into a goofy laugh. “Damn it, Feng-bao, you’re really something. What kind of ridiculous motivational story was that? And I actually drank the whole thing! Fine, I’ll do extra training! Let’s go, goddammit!”
Sui Ning studied his expression and allowed himself a small smile. “It really was a true story, you know. Not made up.”
Lin Zhaoxu obviously didn’t believe it. “Yeah right. Then tell me—which team? Who’s player A?”
“Maybe it’s from a parallel universe.”
“Oh, sure. Quantum mechanics now, huh?”
Sui Ning chuckled quietly.
Chen Chen always said Sui Ning was the most mature player he’d ever met—but that wasn’t true.
When he dominated the domestic league, Sui Ning had been more arrogant than anyone. And when he lost in the quarterfinals, he’d also been more devastated than anyone. He cried so hard that when he turned back to look at the stage, it looked empty—he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.
Later, he realized—of course it was empty. It was only the quarterfinals. The World Championship trophy could only be seen in the finals.
Teams that fall halfway up the mountain don’t even get a glimpse of the peak. From that moment, Sui Ning finally understood the weight of the saying “Esports doesn’t believe in tears.”
He had once told himself, I’m still far, far from strong enough. That realization cut deeper and truer than anything Lin Zhaoxu was feeling now.
Sui Ning lowered his gaze slightly.
But the next year, he was the one who won. That proved that, just as important as skill, was the courage to stand up again no matter how hard you fall. He and his teammates had crawled their way back from hell.
After being force-fed a bowl of “chicken soup for the soul,” the haze in Lin Zhaoxu’s heart lifted quite a bit.
Just then, the game finally found a match. He flexed his hands and clicked Ready. “Alright! Let’s do this! Damn it, that Xiao Gao—next time I’m gonna crush him!”
Out of the corner of his eye, he sneaked a look at Sui Ning and muttered, “Ahem… after all, we’re the twin stars of the team. I’m the iron C.”
Sui Ning froze for a second.
Ji Yunyu, who happened to walk in right then: “?”
…Excuse me? I just went to make a midnight snack—what’s going on here?
Expressionless, Ji Yunyu looked down at the steaming bowl of wontons he’d specially made spicy, then shifted his gaze to Lin Zhaoxu’s forehead.
He seriously wondered—would dumping it on that head count as wasting food?
----------
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