"How did he even follow up from that far away?"
At that moment, Cheng Lin wanted to know too.
After his performance started to dip, the coaches immediately had him start grinding this champion. The training was done in secret. He’d been practicing for over a month without anyone knowing.
He had everything down: how to poke, how to kite, how to manage spacing.
So when Fang Zhixu suddenly appeared just now, it did catch him off guard, but he wasn’t worried. He still had Flash and Satchel Charge. It should’ve been an easy escape.
What he hadn’t expected was that Ahri, who wasn’t even visible on his screen, would be the one to kill him.
Cheng Lin bit his lip until he nearly drew blood. He’d seen Lu Sheng and Fang Zhixu’s previous matches, and their coordination had never looked this good. Especially the game against BN. That one had been a complete disaster.
Back then, Bai Yu had insisted Lu Sheng play a champion that didn’t suit his style. The result? Lu Sheng crashed out hard and got torn apart by the critics.
After that match, Cheng Lin had felt smug. He thought he’d made the right choice by leaving.
But now, just days later, Lu Sheng was already playing Ahri at a near-professional level.
How had Bai Yu made that happen?
How had he taken a two-time champion mid laner and reshaped him so completely?
Could he really see each player’s true potential? Did he see the possibility of mid-jungle synergy in Lu Sheng before anyone else?
And if Cheng Lin had listened back then, would things have turned out differently?
The death timer ticked down. There was no time to dwell on it. That one kill had broken their entire comp. Their whole strategy depended on him surviving to hold mid lane and protect the turret.
Now that he was dead, no one could hold the wave. Lu Sheng had already been chipping away at the tower, and without Ziggs there to clear, it fell instantly.
Their whole tempo crumbled. A Ziggs with no tower to defend is basically useless. No burst, no kill threat.
Fang Zhixu seemed to sense Cheng Lin’s vulnerability too. He kept forcing fights, leaping into him again and again.
Before 20 minutes had even passed, the game was over.
[Wait, SG’s macro game just collapsed like that?]
[Another game under 20 minutes… what is SG even doing?]
[If you knew I was an SG fan, you’d understand how cursed I feel.]
[Ziggs was supposed to be a stall pick! How did it fall apart so fast?]
[It all came down to that godlike kill from Lu Sheng. That flipped everything.]
[Lee Sin kick, Ahri ult, Flash, Charm. They literally covered the whole screen.]
[To be fair, Cheng Lin’s death wasn’t just unlucky. That kick angle from Fang Zhixu was insane.]
[Anyone still doubting Lu Sheng’s Ahri? This game would've dragged on 30+ minutes without it.]
[Can we talk about how Bai Yu saw all this coming? The moment Lu Sheng returned to China, he had Lu Sheng start practicing Ahri.]
[LMAO no team is gonna draft Ziggs into RAG ever again.]
[Ahhh Lu Sheng is a god. Everything he plays turns to gold.]
[Being an RAG fan is my destiny.]
The series ended 2–0. SG didn’t manage to take a single game off RAG.
During the post-game handshake, Cheng Lin’s eyes were already rimmed with tears. The moment he saw Bai Yu, they started to fall.
But this time, Bai Yu was on the other side.
He wasn’t going to offer comfort now.
He shook Cheng Lin’s hand politely, then turned away, leading his players to the front of the stage to thank the audience. There was a faint smile on his lips.
In the crowd, Yan An’s face had gone pale.
His phone kept lighting up with messages from the higher-ups, all demanding the same answer: Why didn’t we take even one game?
Their plan had been perfect. Force Lu Sheng onto Ahri, punish his known weak spot.
But Lu Sheng had turned out to be some kind of freak who could master a new champion in a matter of days. And Bai Yu’s foresight was terrifying.
And then, a chilling thought hit Yan An.
What if Lu Sheng hadn’t landed that kill? Would RAG still have won anyway?
What if Bai Yu had already planned for that possibility too?
Even if Lu Sheng messed up, Qi Yi was there as the safety net.
As Bai Yu stepped off the stage, he suddenly turned and looked up toward the crowd. It was nearly impossible for him to see where Yan An was sitting, but somehow, it felt like he looked directly at him.
There was no challenge in that look. Just calm, confident composure.
And then, he looked away.
Yan An sat frozen, his entire back stiff.
He’d been in business for years. Very few people ever made him feel this way.
And this time, it was an esports coach. A player he’d never even considered a real threat.
—
Backstage, Bai Yu was in a great mood.
He walked into the team lounge, Lu Sheng following beside him. His tone was light, unusually talkative.
“That play between you and Fang Zhixu was incredible. Without it, we would've been stuck in a 30-minute grind. If Cheng Lin had stabilized mid, we’d be in for a painful late game…”
Lu Sheng naturally turned to look at him while he talked. He’d been with the team for a while now, but this was the first time Bai Yu had openly praised him like this.
Suddenly, all those miserable games on Ahri felt worth it. At least now, Bai Yu saw what he could do.
He looked down. He’d wanted to ask, “Am I finally a great mid laner?”
But then he thought of Lin Kun and the question died in his throat.
Hands in his pockets, he glanced at Fang Zhixu beside him.
“Fang Zhixu’s good. You were right about him.”
That flashy play worked not because of him, but because Fang Zhixu had nailed the timing.
Bai Yu stopped in his tracks, turning in surprise.
“You…”
Lu Sheng blinked. “What?”
Bai Yu smiled. “Nothing.”
After a few more steps, he suddenly looked back.
“Oh, and keep training. You and Fang Zhixu need to stay in sync. This is just the beginning.”
Lu Sheng looked at his smiling face, and something stirred inside him. A strange feeling, like something deep down was starting to wake up.
He wasn’t sure what Bai Yu meant by “the beginning.”
Was it the beginning of their training?
Or the beginning of his future?
If it was the latter, it was almost too tempting to resist.
Whether it was the thrill of the game or Bai Yu himself, both were impossible to walk away from.
—
Back in the lounge, Bai Yu originally planned to send Fang Zhixu to the post-game interview. But then the organizers came by with a request. They wanted Bai Yu himself.
He hadn’t spoken to the media since the Round of 16. Not even after they qualified. That time, he let Zhou Xunwen do the talking. Bai Yu just gave a quick wave and left. Not because he was shy. He just didn’t feel like he had anything worth saying until they reached their real goal.
Faced with the request now, he hesitated.
Then shook his head.
“I’ll wait until we win the championship.”
The staff looked disappointed but respected his decision.
The interview wait time was clearly longer than usual. The audience started speculating. Maybe the organizers were still trying to convince Bai Yu.
So when Fang Zhixu eventually walked out alone, some fans couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.
[What a shame... Why didn’t Captain Yu show up?]
[I really thought he’d come for the interview after beating SG.]
[It had to be him. Did they ask, and he turned it down?]
[Seems like Bai Yu hasn’t done a single interview since Worlds.]
[That loss must’ve really hurt him.]
[Everyone was tearing into him back then. Even people outside the esports scene were shocked. It's been over half a year, and it still gives me chills.]
[SG’s comment section completely crashed. Everyone was flaming Bai Yu. Worse than his rookie year.]
[Why? That match wasn’t even his fault. He did everything he could. Look at SG’s bot and mid laners in the domestic league. You think they were any better?]
[SG’s internal politics were subtle but toxic. You had to be a pro to notice. Bai Yu made the right call, but no one backed him up. Skills were off cooldown, and still, no one followed.]
[I remember even the casters fell silent. They didn’t say anything, but you could tell they were frustrated with SG’s carries.]
[Honestly, thank god Bai Yu left. He’d never be able to clear his name if he stayed.]
[Thinking back, that loss really was such a damn injustice.]
[Ugh... my poor Bai Yu.]
In a passerby’s livestream, Bai Yu was seen leaving the venue. His backpack was slung over one shoulder, and his steps were crisp and resolute.
He used to love interacting with fans, always smiling and waving after every match. But ever since that game, he never looked back again.
He walked forward just like he did after his cyberbullying scandal, head down and heart focused without hesitation.
Only when he finally reached his goal would he smile again before the crowd.
In a darkened corner of the street, a man in a black trench coat stood motionless. From head to toe, he was wrapped tightly against the rain and silently watched Bai Yu leave.
In his lowered hand, he gently touched a pin, a small keepsake from the time they won their first world championship together. It was a photo badge showing Bai Yu holding the trophy, grinning amid a shower of flowers and cheers.
A heavy raindrop splashed onto the badge and began to blur it like a falling tear.
He wiped it away, but more raindrops followed, soaking it through.
Someone nearby muttered, “It’s raining.”
The man slowly looked up. Under the streetlight, the raindrops sparkled like glass beads, and his eyes held a deep, penetrating chill.
Rain tapped against the car window. Bai Yu sat in the front passenger seat, unfazed by the downpour as his mind stayed locked in thought.
“So, after these two matches, we enter the gauntlet?” he asked quietly. “Where do you think we’ll land in the final rankings? Or rather, what’s the best way to secure points?”
Song Bo replied, scanning a tablet full of data. “We need to sweep YK and JIG two to zero. TG would be best to beat too. Then there's IKG, TIN, and WG. If we can win at least one of those three, we’ll lock in top four. That saves us a best-of-five, and with our current win rate, skipping a series massively boosts our chances of winning the title.”
Bai Yu rested his chin on his hand, analyzing the matchups. “Then we’ll take down YK and JIG first. Depending on how we do against TG, we’ll adjust the strategy from there.”
“Got it,” said Song Bo. “I’ll prepare the lineup predictions.”
Bai Yu nodded and turned to the window. In the reflection, he saw Lu Sheng’s face quietly watching him. Their eyes met. Lu Sheng didn’t look away. He calmly broke eye contact, but once Bai Yu turned his head again, Lu Sheng looked back.
“Bzz bzz.”
Two vibrations came from Bai Yu’s phone, which had been set to silent.
The number was unfamiliar.
“Hello?”
The line was noisy. Raindrops were pattering on a canopy, footsteps echoed faintly, and then a soft, raspy voice came through.
“Are you doing okay?”
The voice froze Bai Yu in place. He gripped the phone tightly.
It had been so long.
His throat tightened. He forced himself to sound composed. “I’m fine.”
The rain grew louder on the other end, but even through the static, Bai Yu clearly heard the voice that followed.
“I’m back in China.”
A crack of thunder split the sky. People in the van jumped at the sound.
Zhou Xunwen glanced out the window. “Jeez, that thunder scared the crap out of me. Feels like something big is about to happen.”
But Bai Yu didn’t flinch. The thunder hadn’t shaken him. That voice had.
“You... why? Why now?”
The footsteps on the other end stopped. The background noise faded. Then came the calm, familiar tone.
“Bai Yu, I’ve thought it through. I still want to see you.”
His voice was steady and composed, just like the man himself. No matter the crisis, he never lost his cool.
After the call ended, Bai Yu couldn’t focus at all.
Song Bo called his name twice. Zhou Xunwen nudged him. “Time to go.”
Bai Yu finally snapped out of it and stood up to leave.
Lu Sheng noticed something was off and glanced over several times.
Beside him, Chen Shi’an strolled over, grinning. “What? Can’t stop staring at your captain?”
Lu Sheng quickly looked away.
Then he suddenly asked, “Do you still keep in touch with Lin Kun?”
Chen Shi’an shook his head. “Nope. He’s just like you. Cold, independent, quiet. Always carried himself like nothing could shake him. Honestly, he was hard to talk to. Bai Yu was probably the only one who ever got through to him. After retiring, he cut contact with everyone. Even Bai Yu, far as I know.”
Lu Sheng frowned. Even in absence, Lin Kun still felt like a threat.
He asked, “So Bai Yu never contacted him again?”
Chen Shi’an shrugged. “You’d have to ask Bai Yu. But last I heard, Lin Kun wiped all his contact info and left the country. If they’re still in touch, it must have been Lin Kun who reached out.”
Lu Sheng’s mood soured. What kind of person made the whole world revolve around them like that?
He stepped outside to smoke. As he lit a cigarette, he heard Zhou Xunwen’s voice from around the corner.
“What? Lin Kun’s back in China?”
Then Bai Yu’s voice, soft but firm. “Keep it down. You want Xu Bo and the others to hear?”
Lu Sheng froze. The cigarette paused at his lips.
His eyes darkened as he stood still in the rain.
Zhou Xunwen looked around, then whispered, “So... what do you plan to do?”
Bai Yu had already thought it through on the ride over. “I can’t meet him. Not now. It’ll affect team morale. I told him I’m busy with scrims. Not a total lie. Our schedule is tight, and I can’t miss any sessions.”
Even though his decision was clear-cut, Bai Yu still sounded uneasy. “The timing of his return feels off. Like he came back with something to say. But I don’t know if it’s good or bad. Just have a really bad feeling. Really, really bad.”
Zhou Xunwen considered this. “Want me to go meet him for you? Someone needs to find out why he’s here.”
Bai Yu shook his head. “He won’t meet with you.”
Lin Kun was proud. Too proud. Once he made up his mind, no one could change it.
Just like when he chose to retire. Bai Yu had tried everything to persuade him, but it didn’t matter. He disappeared. For three whole years.
Zhou Xunwen clicked his tongue. “This is... what, the third time he’s contacted you?”
Bai Yu gave a soft “mm” in response.
The first time was when he signed with SG. Lin Kun had called to ask why. Bai Yu had been upset with him at the time, said a few words, and hung up.
The second time was the following year, before Worlds. Lin Kun called again, talking about issues with SG’s double-carry setup. For some reason, he even mentioned the country and city he had settled in. But Bai Yu was completely focused on the tournament and had no room to think about anything else. He ended the call quickly.
Now, this was the third time.
He hadn’t expected Lin Kun to return to China, and even less that he would reach out again.
Bai Yu frowned and, out of habit, pulled out a cigarette. “Let’s leave it for now. What matters most right now is the tournament. I’ll deal with Lin Kun later.”
He lit the cigarette. Zhou Xunwen looked at him, opened his mouth, and only said, “Smoke less. Get some rest.”
Bai Yu nodded and watched him leave.
He remained standing there for a while until he heard a faint but familiar click of a lighter. His hand suddenly froze.
Elsewhere in the garden, Lu Sheng was lighting his own cigarette. There were no streetlights in the dim garden, and the flame became the only light source, casting sharp shadows across his expressionless face.
He looked up at Bai Yu, who had just arrived. Saying nothing, he sat down in their usual spot. “Come sit.”
Bai Yu hesitated, unsure how much Lu Sheng had overheard. But after a moment, he figured it didn’t matter. He hadn’t said anything important, so he sat down.
They sat at opposite ends of the bench. Lu Sheng looked toward the streetlight, Bai Yu looked at him. The cigarette in Bai Yu’s hand was halfway gone.
“Did you hear my conversation with Zhou Xunwen just now?”
Lu Sheng responded calmly, “Mm. Lin Kun’s back in China, huh.”
Even though Lu Sheng always sounded calm when he mentioned that name, Bai Yu couldn’t help the chill that ran down his spine.
They say the most dangerous dogs don’t bark. Right now, Lu Sheng gave him exactly that kind of feeling.
He let out an awkward laugh, trying to change the subject. “Whether he’s back or not doesn’t really matter. What matters is that we play well.”
Lu Sheng gave another calm “mm.” His eyes were usually emotionless, but whenever he said that name, there was a distinct coldness. “Chen Shi’an said Lin Kun is the only player you’ve ever truly acknowledged. He, Xu Bo, and Cheng Yuan were never recognized by you. I’m really curious... what kind of place does Lin Kun hold in your heart?”
Bai Yu’s expression shifted slightly.
Lin Kun was indeed different from the rest. He was the most flawless weapon Bai Yu had ever seen.
In life and in competition, Lin Kun always knew exactly what he wanted. No one could stop him. He never hesitated against opponents, never let outside influences change his mind. All he cared about was winning. Sometimes, Bai Yu even wondered if he had normal human emotions.
But this same Lin Kun, after winning their first championship together, had curved his lips into the faintest smile.
From that moment on, Bai Yu felt like he had found a new purpose. He wanted to help Lin Kun experience normal emotions. He took him to events, accompanied him to offline matches, encouraged new hobbies.
What he didn’t expect was that once Lin Kun began to feel, his gameplay changed. It lost its purity. There were new distractions. That was when he began to fall from his pedestal.
Bai Yu always felt a deep sense of regret, maybe even guilt.
He kept asking Lin Kun to give it another try, but Lin Kun suddenly became cold and distant. Without any explanation, he retired.
Of everything that had happened over the years, this was the one thing Bai Yu couldn’t bring himself to face. He always believed Lin Kun’s retirement was his fault. So when Lin Kun reappeared, his instinct was to avoid him.
Bai Yu stayed silent. This was the first time he had shown a cold expression in front of Lu Sheng.
He took a couple more drags from his cigarette, his voice flat. “Let’s talk about it some other time.”
Lu Sheng turned to look at him, his gaze growing darker. Just before Bai Yu could take the final drag and stand up, Lu Sheng suddenly leaned over and took the cigarette from his mouth, placing it between his own lips.
Bai Yu froze, eyes wide.
Lu Sheng didn’t look at him. He turned his head slightly, his face still calm, but something deep in his eyes was surfacing, something he could no longer hide.
He took a long drag from the cigarette Bai Yu had been smoking. His throat moved as he swallowed the smoke. His expression remained composed, as if what he had just done wasn’t the least bit out of line.
But the act was undeniably intimate.
Bai Yu’s eyes lingered on his lips, then instinctively dropped to his pronounced Adam’s apple as it moved. A nervous tension rose in his chest.
He quickly stood up. “I’m heading back.”
As he rose, Lu Sheng suddenly grabbed his right hand.
He didn’t look up, but his grip was strong, far too strong to break free from. No matter how calm he appeared, there was no hiding the aggression beneath the surface. Removing the cigarette from his mouth, Lu Sheng said seriously, “Bai Yu, one day, I will become someone greater than Lin Kun.”
Without Lin Kun, Lu Sheng was already the strongest.
Bai Yu hesitated, unsure why he would say something like that. All he knew was that he didn’t want him thinking that way. Otherwise, it would feel like he had cast a shadow over him, just like he had over Lin Kun.
He gently raised his hand, touching Lu Sheng’s palm, then turned it over and held it. His voice was soft.
“But I don’t want you to become Lin Kun. I think you’re already great the way you are.”
The aggression in Lu Sheng’s eyes instantly faded the moment he heard those words.
His grip loosened slightly. He looked up at Bai Yu like someone who had finally found direction. Then, unable to resist, he gave a gentle tug, pulling him a little closer, just enough to reach.
Bai Yu’s gaze had always been calm and gentle. He never came across as cold. He never used words to hurt people.
He was far better than Lu Sheng had ever imagined.
And Lu Sheng was falling in deeper than he realized. Even the self-control he had once taken pride in was beginning to crumble.
He gently ran his thumb across Bai Yu’s palm. No one knew how much effort it took to hold back his emotions. In the calmest voice he could manage, he said,
“Mm. I know.”