After the award ceremony, there was still a round of interviews with various media outlets. By the time everything was over, it was already completely dark outside the arena.
High-intensity matches were already mentally exhausting, and after being dragged around for several more hours, every PNG player wore obvious fatigue on their face as they walked out.
Even someone like Sui Ning, who usually trained to build up his stamina, couldn’t hide the weariness in his expression.
If not for the excitement of winning the championship holding them up, they probably would’ve just collapsed on the spot.
Head coach Chen Chen walked in front. When he turned back and saw that all of them looked like they could fall asleep at any moment, he raised an eyebrow, already knowing that tonight’s celebration banquet probably wasn’t happening.
He glanced at his watch. “9:30. Let’s head back to the hotel first.”
“Okaaay—”
Lin Zhaoxu responded weakly, raising both hands and feet in agreement. The rest of the team was too tired to even speak.
Chen Chen couldn’t help but laugh. “You all looked pretty energetic right after the match. A few interviews later and you’re like this? Who was it that said they’d party all night after winning?”
“…Interviews are way more tiring than matches,” Sui Ning said softly, pressing his lips together. His voice was still a little hoarse from talking so much. The HPL media had swarmed him like crazy, refusing to let him go no matter what excuse he tried to use to slip away.
Ji Yunyu leaned against him and nodded vigorously. “And it wasn’t just a few interviews—it was dozens. The reporters just kept coming in waves, you couldn’t even see the end of them!”
Teammates: Couldn’t agree more.
“Some of the questions were seriously ridiculous!” Wei Ye complained with a look of disgust. “They asked me how I thought of using Wildfang to Flash-Ult in the river. I didn’t even know how to answer! What was I supposed to say—that anyone who’s played the champion once knows you can do that?!”
His wording was exaggerated, but he genuinely couldn’t stand some of the clueless questions from “armchair players.”
“Yeah, and someone asked me for tips on using Soul-Stealing Spear. I told him to practice more and watch more, and he still wasn’t satisfied! What, do you want me to write you a thesis?!”
“Feng-bao probably had it the worst. I heard someone asking him the same question over and over.”
Sui Ning: …
He had answered the same question at least ten times. Right now, he truly didn’t want to speak at all…
Chen Chen listened to their complaints with a fatherly smile. Only after they returned to the hotel did he suddenly say, “Go wash up quickly and gather in my room at 11.”
Everyone froze in shock. Lin Zhaoxu was the first to wail, “No way, sir—tonight too?! Can’t the champions get a little privilege? It’s already 11 and we still have to do a review?!”
This was a BO5 final—if they did a full post-match review, wouldn’t they end up watching the sunrise at 4 a.m. again?!
Clutching his chest, Lin Zhaoxu felt his vision go dark, as if heavenly hymns were already ringing in his ears.
Chen Chen didn’t confirm or deny it. He just gave a mysterious smile and said in a tone that allowed no refusal, “Go on.”
Everyone: …What else could they do but obey?
PNG had booked luxury twin rooms for the players in pairs, along with a large training suite filled with equipment.
The twin rooms were elegantly simple, clean, and bright—it was clear the club didn’t skimp on player living conditions at all.
But in the past few days, preparing for the finals, Sui Ning and the others had spent 99% of their time in the training room playing scrims. After staying here for so many days, he had only ever used his own room’s bathroom and bed—
Sometimes not even the bed; after training, he would fall asleep right at the computer.
Coming back now, Sui Ning almost didn’t recognize the place.
As soon as he closed the door, Ji Yunyu wrapped his arms around him from behind, hugging him tightly like a plush toy.
Resting his chin against Sui Ning’s neck, his soft hair brushing lightly against his skin, Ji Yunyu murmured with his eyes closed, “…We won.”
Sui Ning gave a soft “mm” in response and relaxed back into his embrace. Neither of them spoke again, quietly drawing strength from each other’s warmth. After a whole day of roaring noise in the arena, Sui Ning especially cherished this moment of silence.
After a while, Sui Ning gently pushed Ji Yunyu away and urged him to go wash up.
“We still have to see coach at eleven,” he said with a faint smile, urging him on. “We can’t be late.”
Ji Yunyu gritted his teeth. “…He’s a demon.”
With just one casual sentence, the “demon” had shattered any chance of a warm, romantic—or even slightly suggestive—championship night.
——
Fortunately, Chen Chen hadn’t completely lost his humanity.
“He even knew we didn’t have dinner—he bought us barbecue!”
Wei Ye sat on the carpet, stuffing large chunks of meat into his mouth, fake-crying, “He really—I'm so touched I could cry!”
Lin Zhaoxu squeezed out a few crocodile tears as well, holding up a can of cold beer against his cheek. “There’s even beer!”
Sui Ning looked up in surprise. Sure enough, the can’s label read: [Capital City Ice Beer]
…Although there weren’t any matches coming up and a few drinks wouldn’t hurt, Chen Chen actually taking the lead in this? Sui Ning raised an eyebrow, looking at the coach in disbelief.
Chen Chen noticed his gaze. He said nothing, only flashing his signature sly (calculating) smile.
Lin Zhaoxu was thrilled. He had never drunk alcohol before—excessive drinking could cause irreversible hand tremors, and being timid, he had never dared to risk it. But today, this was bought by the coach himself! If the coach gave it, how could it possibly be wrong?!
Beaming with excitement, Lin Zhaoxu picked up the “ice beer” and popped the tab. A familiar psst of fizz sounded from the can.
Lin Zhaoxu: ? Why does that sound a bit like soda?
Is alcohol supposed to sound like that?
He thought about it for half a second, got nowhere, and decided not to overthink it. Tilting the can, he poured it straight into his mouth.
His teammates instantly stared at him with a mix of shock and awe—damn, this one’s on another level!
“…Burp.”
After finishing, Lin Zhaoxu let out a burp and lowered his head, falling into deep contemplation.
Wei Ye blinked, then cautiously asked, “Son… you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Lin Zhaoxu frowned, utterly puzzled. “But I gotta ask… is this really alcohol? Why does it taste so much like cola?”
Wei Ye: ?
Wei Ye looked confused. “How is that possible?”
“Then take a sip.”
Wei Ye carefully tried a mouthful.
“…Uh.”
Lin Zhaoxu: “See? I wasn’t lying! Damn, so alcohol tastes the same as cola—no wonder everyone loves drinking it!”
Wei Ye’s worldview looked thoroughly shaken. Nearby, Sui Ning and Ji Yunyu exchanged glances.
The only one who had actually drunk real alcohol, Cheng Su, couldn’t take it anymore. He opened a can himself, took a sip, then glanced at the coach beside him—whose face was turning purple from trying not to laugh—and said coldly: “This thing smells like cola. Tastes like cola—”
“Ever considered that it might just be cola?”
As he spoke, he tore at the can’s outer label, easily ripping off the “Capital City Ice Beer” packaging to reveal the classic red-and-black cola design underneath.
Lin Zhaoxu: …???
The prank finally exposed, Chen Chen collapsed onto the ground laughing uncontrollably. “Hahahahaha—!”
Lin Zhaoxu trembled with rage. “Coach Chen, you—! Accept your punishment!!”
Driven by fury, he pounced like a tiger, tackling Chen Chen to the ground. Seeing this, Wei Ye immediately shouted, “Nice engage—I’m flashing in!” and piled on as well. The scene instantly descended into chaos.
Sui Ning: …Alright then.
This was just how his teammates and coach were—what else could he do? Just live with it.
Sui Ning helplessly picked up a can of “ice beer,” tore off the label, and sure enough—it was still cola. Chen Chen really had too much time on his hands, even arranging this kind of prank.
The three on the floor rolled around laughing and cursing, attacking each other’s ticklish spots. Sui Ning took a sip of cola, ready to sit back and watch.
Unexpectedly, Wei Ye—the mighty tank top laner—was terrible in a scuffle. In less than a minute, he was already panting, glaring at Sui Ning and Ji Yunyu as he shouted: “Where’s the backup?? Mid and jungle?! What kind of map awareness is that—teamfight and you’re not even here? Still farming your damn jungle and waves, huh?!”
Sui Ning: ???
A vein twitched on Ji Yunyu’s forehead as he let out a cold laugh. “Your dad’s here.” With that, he joined the battlefield.
Sui Ning and Cheng Su exchanged a look, both seeing the same disdain in each other’s eyes.
Thus, on the night of their championship victory, accompanied by the aroma of barbecue, they spent it in a chaotic scuffle barely more intense than kindergarten play.
——
The next day at noon.
Assistant coach Sun Wei knocked on Chen Chen’s door with a stack of documents. After getting no response for a while, he frowned and anxiously took out a spare keycard. The door opened halfway—only to be blocked by something soft.
Startled, Sun Wei looked down—and instantly sucked in a sharp breath.
Well damn… lying there on the floor with eyes closed—if that wasn’t their head coach, who else could it be?! Even two buttons on his dress shirt collar had popped off!
Looking further inside, Sun Wei was even more shocked. The once tidy 50-square-meter luxury suite now looked like a battlefield aftermath—blankets and pillows thrown everywhere, beds and tables shoved crookedly out of place.
On the large carpet a little farther away lay several “bodies,” motionless. Sun Wei blinked hard in disbelief, then sorrowfully realized—no matter how he looked at them, those really were his team members.
Sun Wei: …I knew this team was ridiculous, but I didn’t think it was this ridiculous!
HPL, this is your Summer Champion. Happy now?!
——
Under Sun Wei’s complicated, hard-to-describe gaze, Chen Chen and the players finally cleaned themselves up. By the time they regrouped, it was nearly 2 p.m. The entire team returned to the training room with serious expressions, tacitly agreeing not to mention anything about last night.
Chen Chen cleared his throat and put on his head coach authority. “Let me go over the upcoming schedule.”
He tilted his chin, signaling Sun Wei to distribute the stack of documents to each player.
Sui Ning took his copy and saw detailed information about the World Championship format, schedule, and key notes.
Clearly, although Worlds happened every year, what a viewer needed to know and what a player needed to know were not the same. Worried that these inexperienced youngsters might mess something up, Chen Chen had organized everything into neat tables.
“The group stage starts on October 17,” Chen Chen said. “As the HPL’s first seed, we don’t need to play in the play-ins. The group draw will be on October 2.”
As he listened, Sui Ning carefully read through the document in his hands.
The World Championship format in this parallel world was similar to his previous life, consisting of three stages: Play-Ins, Group Stage, and Knockout Stage.
The Group Stage had 16 slots. The first, second, and third seeds from the four major regions (China, Korea, Europe, and North America) would advance directly into the Group Stage, taking up 12 of those spots.
The remaining four slots would be contested among the fourth seeds from the major regions and the first seeds from the other regions around the world.
“Looking at it this way, I’m really lucky to be born in China!”
Lin Zhaoxu flipped through the list of “other regions” and couldn’t help clicking his tongue. “Let me count—Japan, Southeast Asia, Latin America, Oceania… that’s eight in total. Damn! You fight your way to first place in your region, and when you get to Worlds you still have to start from Play-Ins? That’s brutal!”
Chen Chen rolled up a sheet of paper and smacked it lightly on his head. “Exactly. You think ‘getting a shot at Worlds is rare’ is just a joke? Play-Ins is a BO1 points system—one game decides everything! The fourth seeds from the four major regions plus the eight regional champions—that’s twelve teams fighting for just four spots!”
That meant the Play-Ins would be an all-out brawl with an extremely high elimination rate.
Some teams might dominate their regions all year, only to fail to even qualify for the Group Stage in the end.
But from another perspective, any team that could break out of such a brutal Play-In stage would undoubtedly be very strong.
Fortunately, as the HPL’s first seed, PNG didn’t need to participate in Play-Ins. Their first clash with teams from other regions would come in the Group Stage.
Chen Chen pulled out a tactical whiteboard, wiped it clean, and wrote:
[China: PNG, Navic, _ ]
[Korea: UG, SST, Tio]
[North America: SDB, MaJ, FAST]
[Europe: OST, HoP, CLR]
From left to right were the first to third seeds. Since the fourth seeds weren’t guaranteed to reach the Group Stage, Chen Chen didn’t include them.
He tapped the board with his marker. “Once the regional qualifier finishes in a few days, our third seed will be decided. There will be one draw for the Group Stage and one for the Knockout Stage—did you read the rules?”
Everyone nodded.
For the Group Stage draw, the four first seeds would be placed in Pool A, second seeds in Pool B, and third seeds in Pool C. The 12 teams would then be divided into four groups, each containing one team from each pool. Teams from the same region would not be placed in the same group.
The teams that advanced from Play-Ins would then be added into these groups.
Simply put, PNG would not face other HPL teams or other regions’ first seeds in the Group Stage. This rule was designed to prevent strong teams from eliminating each other too early in the tournament.
Sui Ning continued flipping through the documents. The remaining pages were all introductions to teams from other regions. Since making the playoffs, PNG’s training had included reviewing footage from foreign leagues.
But watching recordings was never the same as real matches. Compared to HPL teams who scrimmed daily, Sui Ning and his teammates knew very little about teams from other regions.
“In the past, our results weren’t good, so strong foreign teams weren’t very willing to scrim with us.”
Chen Chen said. “But now it’s different. Just this week alone, last year’s champion UG has already contacted me four or five times. So moving forward, we’ll have plenty of scrims with international teams. Of course, we won’t neglect domestic scrims either. Until Worlds is over, the schedule will be very tight—everyone will have to work a bit harder.”
They had thought they could rest for a month from September 13 to mid-October. Clearly, they had been too optimistic.
Top teams from all over the world—some vastly different from PNG’s style, others eerily similar—would all be part of this chaotic battle royale. Even Chen Chen couldn’t predict who would ultimately come out on top.
But one thing was certain: pre-tournament practice would become their most reliable armor and weapon, helping PNG push forward.
The team that adapted fastest to high-intensity training and identified their opponents’ weaknesses first would undoubtedly gain a huge advantage at Worlds.
Chen Chen waited for about ten seconds, but heard no complaints. Looking at his players, although they still showed signs of fatigue, their eyes were filled with determination.
Only then did he finally feel relieved, sighing inwardly—his kids had finally grown up. They now understood that to achieve their dreams, they had to do what others couldn’t and endure what others wouldn’t.
——
The meeting with the coach lasted until evening.
By nearly 11 p.m., Sui Ning finally had time to log on with his teammates and make up for his required streaming hours.
The moment he opened the stream, his screen was flooded with endless exclamation marks and question marks.
[!! Look what I just refreshed into!!]
[??????]
[32566? Am I seeing this right? In this lifetime, I actually get to see this stream go live??]
[AHHHHH Feng-bao—my champion mid laner!!]
[Champion wife—prprpr!! Turn on the camera!!]
[Wind, do you know how long it’s been since you streamed? If not for playoffs, I would’ve thought you went back to being a trainee again QAQ]
[We’re champion fans now—say it louder! (straightens back)]
Amused by the chat, Sui Ning couldn’t help but smile. He turned on the webcam, his delicate and handsome features appearing on screen. He waved. “Good evening, everyone.”
“We’re still at the hotel right now, so the streaming setup isn’t great… just bear with it for now.”
Without waiting for the audience to react, he changed the stream title to: [PNG_Wind, streaming to farm hours]. And just as he said, the conditions in the training room were far worse than at their base—his microphone could clearly pick up his teammates talking nearby.
The moment he changed the title, an explosive wave of chat messages flooded in, causing noticeable lag. The stream’s popularity shot up like a rocket, instantly reaching the top spot on the homepage.
[Congrats to PNG for winning the Summer Championship, congrats to champion mid-laner Wind!!]
[Congrats to PNG for winning the Summer Championship, congrats to champion mid-laner Wind!!]
Golden-red celebratory messages, mixed with extravagant gifts from big spenders, flooded the screen for a full ten minutes without any sign of stopping. Even Chen Chen, who happened to pass by, couldn’t help but lean over and take a look.
Sui Ning kept thanking people for gifts and for their congratulations.
Only after nearly twenty minutes did other types of messages finally start appearing.
[Feng-bao’s “professional smile” haha I screenshotted it]
[LMAO the champion mid just finished finals and now has to “clock in” on Little Shark stream, my poor wife!!]
[That earlier spam wave was insane, so cool!!]
[Am I the only one noticing something weird? Help—top 5 streams on the homepage all have “farming hours” in the title hahaha, Little Shark: what the hell are you guys doing?]
Even the platform moderators were helpless. These big-name streamers going live had multiplied the platform’s traffic several times over—probably all the viewers who just finished watching the finals were waiting for this! Just Wind’s stream alone had already racked up tens of millions in gifts.
At this scale, what could the moderators even do? If they wanted to farm hours, let them farm—were they supposed to ban PNG’s streams?
Regardless of the moderators’ complicated feelings, Sui Ning himself was farming hours without the slightest guilt.
Due to connection issues, the hotel network barely supported all five of them streaming at once. Nearby, Wei Ye—always the fastest—had already queued into a ranked game, only to find himself stuck at a stable 200 ping, lagging horribly with every step.
Wei Ye’s miserable howling made Sui Ning abandon the idea of playing on his main account. But for a moment, he couldn’t think of anything else to do. At this hour, even watching other matches wasn’t an option. Surely he wasn’t going to rewatch their own finals…?
[If you’ve got nothing to do, how about chatting?]
[Hehehe my silly wife zoning out is so cute prprpr]
Lost in thought, Sui Ning fell silent. With no voice from the streamer, the chat happily filled the gap—half admiring his looks, half chatting among themselves.
For a moment, the volume of messages became even more overwhelming than before.
[Let me lick Feng-bao, slurp slurp!]
[Damn, you guys are insane at spamming]
[Old fans crying… who would’ve thought back when there were only a dozen viewers QuQ]
[Now Feng-bao just needs his ID in the title to sit firmly at #1 on the homepage!!]
[Old fans are crying, but I’m different—I miss the days of 5-yuan Diamond-tier duo queue services!!]
[ I’ve booked it before… I once paid 5 yuan to queue with PNG_Wind… who would believe that…]
“Then… how about I play on a smurf account with you guys for a bit?”
Sui Ning glanced at the chat and suggested, “With this delay, smurfing should be fine. Let me think… above King rank, below 100 stars?”
He chose what he thought was a reasonable range—any lower and it might look like a pro deliberately smurfing to stomp low ranks.
[??????]
[Damn, almost forgot this is Little Shark’s #1 madman stream, this feels like his early streaming days again QuQ]
[My dear, did you forget that King rank players only make up 0.011% of the player base… sob, when will someone like me in Silver ever get a chance?]
[Back then when Feng-bao said “King and above” it sounded arrogant… but now—you’re a champion mid!! Speak louder!! 100 stars is nothing, take me with you!!]
[Here comes my favorite “fail to qualify” segment again… I love you so much but you make me lose completely, sob sob!!]
[Hehe, I’m King rank, logging in now!]
Once he decided, Sui Ning called over Ji Yunyu, who was also idling to farm streaming hours.
This made the chat cry even harder—an opportunity to queue with the champion mid-jungle duo! Why hadn’t they started grinding the game from birth?!
Sui Ning’s own account, [Feng Lan], had decayed to Master tier due to inactivity, which worked perfectly. Ji Yunyu pulled out yet another one of his countless smurf accounts used for practicing champions.
They originally wanted to pick a few lucky viewers from chat, but the messages were scrolling too fast—every screenshot lagged.
With no choice, Sui Ning tried to recall his old “Little Tomato” boosting account credentials—and successfully logged in.
He set his status to “accepting orders,” limited to 3 slots. The minimum price, however, could only be set at 5 yuan.
“My Little Tomato ID is Feng Lan, number 28577. I’ve opened three slots—anyone above King rank who wants to play can add me,” Sui Ning said, holding up his phone to the camera, revealing the familiar Diamond Walnut avatar on his profile.
Thinking back to his very first order—his slogan “No win, no charge”—Sui Ning smiled faintly. “…No win, no charge. Actually, even if we win, no charge. I’ll refund after the order goes through.”
[——!!!!]
[AHHHH my 5-yuan god, and now there are TWO of them!!]
[Wife wait for me—Little Tomato right? I’m downloading it RIGHT NOW!!]
[Holy shit holy shit, this is more intense than trying to get finals tickets!!]
[Where’s my ticket-sniping bot, GO GO GO!!]
The sudden influx of users crashed Little Tomato’s backend for several minutes.
Seeing this, the platform manager—both pained and delighted—immediately contacted Chen Chen: “Coach Chen, have you considered letting your players become Little Tomato ambassadors?”
This traffic, this hype—truly the peak of HPL popularity, unbeatable!!
Clutching his chest, the manager grinned foolishly.
Chen Chen replied instantly, speechless: …Are you okay?
----------
No comments:
Post a Comment