Chapter 25

After the eleventh week of the summer season, Ying Nian stopped going to the venue.

Although both her money and her legs were her own, and no one could stop her if she really wanted to go, she still had to consider a certain someone who liked to control everything.

Ying Nian could only find solace in looking at photos posted by other fans, watching the livestream from behind the screen. But no matter how she watched, it just couldn’t compare to the atmosphere on-site. Her Weibo followers were puzzled as well; someone who used to attend every match had suddenly stopped posting photos from the venue. So, someone sent her a message asking, [Yu Qu, didn’t you go to watch the match?]

The nickname “Yu Qu”^[1]As we all know, Ying Nian’s Weibo ID is “喻凛然娶我” (yùlǐnránqǔwǒ), which translates to “Yu Linran Marry Me.” Her nickname “喻娶” (Yu Qu) was … Continue reading came from her Weibo ID, taking the two most prominent characters. It was unclear who first started calling her that in the comments on her Weibo, but gradually, more and more people began to address her this way.

As a fan who had received several likes from the official account and often attended matches in person, taking photos and editing pictures of her favorite players, Ying Nian’s Weibo posts often garnered numerous shares. With these “achievements,” Ying Nian unknowingly became a “da da”^[2]In some dialects or familial settings, “大大” (da da) is used as an affectionate or respectful term to address an elder, such as an uncle or a respected senior. among the fans.

These two characters became her nickname and moniker. Initially, Ying Nian found it odd, but she got used to it soon enough.

Ying Nian could only reply, [I’ve been busy with things in the 3D world (real life) lately, so I haven’t had time to go to the venue.]

Those who followed her felt it was a pity: [Your photos are so good. I was looking forward to seeing new ones from you.]

Ying Nian also felt it was a shame. She had even planned to buy a camera and learn photography skills so she could take as many photos of Yu Linran as she wanted. But before she could put her plan into action, it was halted midway—who could she blame?

Could she dare blame Yu Linran?

If she swallowed her frustration, she could only grit her teeth and endure it silently!

For the last half month, Ying Nian had a rather dull holiday—so dull that she would sometimes even accept Jiang Jiashu’s invitations to hang out with him.

Before long, September arrived, and with it, the new semester began, bringing back the routine of days starting at six in the morning and ending at nine at night.

Before the semester started, Ying Nian tried sending Yu Linran a message on WeChat, tentatively asking, [Captain, I haven’t watched the matches on-site in a while. Can I go to the venue to watch this week’s match?]

She added a cute sticker at the end of the message.

When Yu Linran found time to see her message, he responded directly and succinctly with two words: [No way.]

He cut off all her hopes in a straightforward and decisive manner.

The more Ying Nian thought about it, the more frustrated she became. Everyone else, whether they’re esports players or celebrities, all want their fans to pay more attention to them. They’re afraid that if fans watch them less or stop watching for too long, their feelings might fade and they’ll turn to like someone else instead.

But Yu Linran? He wasn’t worried at all. Not only did he not try to keep his fans, but he even kept pushing them away! Who else acts like him?

It’s still the same as before—he really isn’t worried at all about her unfollowing him!

Ying Nian didn’t even know why she was taking it so seriously with him. In fact, she could just sneak into the venue. As long as she didn’t post on Weibo for him to see, with so many spectators there, she definitely wouldn’t be noticed.

But she couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling in her heart. It was as if they had agreed on something, and if she didn’t follow through, it felt like she was deceiving him.

She suppressed her desire to go to the venue, but in her actions, she was more obedient than anyone else—even more so than a first-grader. She didn’t even realize how compliant she was being, far exceeding the level of a young child.

Although she couldn’t be there in person, her heart remained with the matches.

The playoffs were in full swing, but unfortunately, SF didn’t make it to the finals.

The finals of the summer playoffs were once again a stage for the top two teams among the domestic TOP3, facing off in a pinnacle showdown.

Based on these two teams’ performances in the spring and summer seasons, they had already secured their spots for the World Championship—the S Series—where there were three slots available for the domestic region.

However, they still had to determine first and second place, distinguishing the “first seed” from the “second seed.”

SF and FVH met again, this time battling for the last spot in the domestic region for the World Championship.

Using the words of other esports viewers to describe this match, it was like “gods fighting”—the level of excitement was something worth savoring multiple times!

Both teams took the match with the utmost seriousness and performed brilliantly.

Since she had classes, Ying Nian caught up on the video before bed. Even though she already knew the result, watching SF win the match in that moment made her eyes heat up as she lay on her pillow, almost bringing her to tears.

It was incredibly tough.

SF’s journey this year has truly been anything but easy. Starting over, no one had high hopes for them, and they were surrounded by voices of criticism. Everyone on the team was under immense, indescribable pressure.

It was hard enough to gain a few fans, but then they lost a match midway through. Because the loss was so embarrassing due to the disparity in skill, all the praise suddenly turned into condemnation.

Support turned into scorn. People who once greeted them with smiles and cheered them on abruptly changed their tune, turning their backs to join those who belittled and slandered the team.

Ying Nian remembered that rainy day when she encountered Yu Linran. SF’s light board was thrown into the heavy rain, and every raindrop felt like it was hitting her heart.

Yu Linran must have seen it too, she guessed.

Then, they rallied and pushed forward, making an impressive run through the summer season. Although it was a pity they didn’t make it to the finals, SF’s performance was already enough to make people give them a thumbs-up.

A team that once didn’t even have a name had now broken into the esports scene and entered the public eye. As a fan, Ying Nian felt proud of the five members of SF.

Late that night, Ying Nian posted an update.

Since she had stopped attending the matches, her account, which had noticeably reduced in activity, finally had a new post.

【@Yu Linran Marry Me:

Everyone has worked so hard during these times. The future is far from over, and there are higher mountains waiting for us to climb.

No matter how difficult or dangerous the road ahead may be, I sincerely wish my team great success and that they go forward bravely!

I will always be proud of you all.】

The attached picture was no longer a solo shot of Yu Linran or any other member, but instead, it was SF’s team logo.

Feeling emotional, Ying Nian wiped her tears and sent Yu Linran a message on WeChat:

[Captain! I will definitely study hard, and good luck with your matches!!!]

Less than half a minute after sending the message, and with her tears still not fully wiped away, Yu Linran replied:

[If you didn’t send me a message at this time, that statement would be a bit more believable.]

“…”

Ying Nian glanced up at the time and realized it was almost two in the morning! She immediately felt guilty. She wanted to say she was doing homework but didn’t want to lie to him, so she changed the subject instead.

[Captain, why are you still awake?]

They had a schedule with strict arrangements for training, rest, and meals. Moreover, given his personality, he didn’t seem like the type who enjoyed staying up late.

Sure enough, Yu Linran replied, [I was asleep. Your message woke me up.]

Ying Nian: …

Alright, it was her fault.

Ying Nian shrank back, saying, [Then I won’t bother you anymore. I’ll go to sleep too. Goodnight, Captain!]

After sending the message, she pressed the screen off and curled up under the thin blanket.

With her eyes closed but still not feeling sleepy, Ying Nian thought and thought again, then daringly took out her phone and tapped on Yu Linran’s profile picture.

She asked, [Captain, just a quick question before bed. I haven’t been to a match in a long time. Can I go watch when you play in the S Series?] She followed up with three pitiful-looking emojis in a row.

This year’s S Series was being held domestically, making it convenient to attend in person.

This time, Yu Linran didn’t immediately reject her. After a brief consideration, he reluctantly agreed: [If you study seriously, you can go occasionally.]

Seeing his response, Ying Nian was overjoyed. She hid under the blanket, giggling like a thief.

[Captain, you’re the best!!]

To emphasize her excitement, she purposely used two exclamation marks.

That night, she finally slept soundly until dawn.

…

With Yu Linran’s permission, Ying Nian felt refreshed. She attended school while keeping an eye on the match schedule, planning to find a suitable time to watch SF’s game.

On Tuesday morning, Ying Nian was called to the teacher’s office for a discussion and was given a past college entrance exam paper to try out. Technically, she was only in her second year of high school and not yet at the stage to tackle college entrance exams, but she didn’t refuse and accepted it straightforwardly.

On her way back, she passed by the library building and took a shortcut behind the building. As she walked by the flowerbed, she faintly heard some noises coming from a corner.

Ying Nian didn’t think much of it at first, but then a genuine sob reached her ears, making her stop in her tracks.

She looked around, and the sound was coming from the right corner. Ying Nian carefully took a few steps, moving lightly towards that direction, staying alert in case something unexpected happened. She didn’t relax her guard for a moment.

As she reached the flowerbed and was about to part the branches, a startled female voice sounded from within: “…Who’s there?!”

Ying Nian’s hand froze mid-air, meeting a pair of red, tear-streaked eyes.

“I… was just passing by.”

It was a girl in the school uniform. Upon seeing Ying Nian, she quickly stood up, but then realized how disheveled she looked. She hurriedly wiped her tears with her sleeve and shifted her feet, turning her back to Ying Nian to avoid facing her.

Ying Nian hesitated for two seconds, torn between leaving and staying, but seeing how pitifully the girl was crying, she couldn’t help but meddle a bit: “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“I—I’m fine!” The girl kept her back to Ying Nian, wiping her face forcefully, and said with flustered voice. “Just go!”

“Are you really okay? If there’s something wrong, just tell me. Maybe I can help?” Ying Nian pressed, noting that crying so miserably didn’t exactly seem like everything was fine.

“I’m fine! I just got some sand in my eyes!” The girl stubbornly refused to turn around.

Seeing her reluctance, Ying Nian had no choice but to say, “It’s time for class. You should hurry back to the classroom, or you’ll get scolded if the principal catches you.”

The girl stayed silent.

Ying Nian glanced at her twice, but seeing that she didn’t want to engage, she turned around and left.

…

In the afternoon, it was Ying Nian’s turn for duty. After the bell rang, the classroom quickly emptied out, leaving only a few students doing the cleaning. Ying Nian sent a message to Jiang Jiashu: 

[Bring me dinner.]

She stuffed her phone into her pocket, grabbed a broom, dustpan, and trash bin, and greeted the girl who was cleaning the blackboard: “I’ll go sweep the playground!”

The other girl looked a bit embarrassed, “You’re going again? How about I go this time?”

Ying Nian waved her hand, “It’s fine.”

As she walked out of the classroom, she could still hear a voice trailing behind her, “Thank you for your hard work—”

It wasn’t really hard work. Ying Nian felt she was a bit stronger than the average girl. The girls in her class were all so delicate, without the strength to even truss a chicken—not that it was a bad thing, but when it came to tasks that required strength, they weren’t much help, so it was easier for her to handle them instead.

After cleaning the designated area of the playground for their class, there weren’t many people left at the school since most had gone to have dinner. Even the classmates who were helping with the cleaning in her class had finished their tasks and left one after another.

The girl who was cleaning the blackboard wanted to stay and sweep with Ying Nian, but Ying Nian quickly shooed her away, telling her to hurry up and get some dinner.

Ying Nian, holding the broom and carrying the dustpan and trash bin, made her way around the left side of the first floor. The first-floor restrooms weren’t inside the hallway but were separated from the teaching building, just on the left side, across a small path wide enough for four people to walk side by side.

Ying Nian was heading towards the women’s restroom ahead. As she stepped into the shaded area, a group of girls emerged from the restroom, chatting and laughing. They were only wearing the top half of the school uniform, paired with ultra-short shorts of their own.

She didn’t pay much attention to their conversation; instead, she focused on fixing the trash bin, whose handle had come loose on one side. She had to stop and reattach the metal hook to the edge of the bin.

The group of girls brushed past her. One of them, swinging her hand and laughing, said, “I slapped her so hard my hand hurts…”

Ying Nian caught the sensitive remark and turned to look.

Their slender backs were already facing her, but she heard another girl respond, laughing twice, “I saw her nose was bleeding!”

Ying Nian frowned and turned her gaze towards the entrance of the women’s restroom.

It was pitch dark, and even though it was clearly daytime, it looked like a deep abyss.

Ying Nian quickly walked to the entrance while holding her cleaning tools. She set the cleaning tools down to the side and cautiously stepped inside.

As Ying Nian got closer, she could hear it—the faint sound of crying coming from the slightly dim restroom. Whoever the girl was, she was choking on her sobs, coughing twice, and her whimpers filled with grief and sorrow.

Ying Nian walked inside and saw a girl squatting against the wall in the innermost corner. Upon hearing footsteps, the girl looked up in alarm, her eyes filled with fear in that instant.

The unpleasant smell in the restroom wasn’t the most disturbing thing.

It was as if something was lodged in Ying Nian’s chest, making her feel really uncomfortable.

The girl in front of her was the same one who had been crying by the flowerbed in the morning. Now, she was crying even harder than before, her face streaked with tears, pale and flushed with vivid red marks of five fingers clear on her cheeks.

She was crying so much that she could hardly breathe.