Switching keyboards in the middle of a match is considered a major taboo for pro players.
Each keyboard feels slightly different. While that might seem insignificant during regular practice, once you're on stage relying purely on instinct, even the tiniest difference can become glaring. If the opponent notices you've swapped keyboards, they'll likely target your lane more aggressively. The added mental pressure makes mistakes almost inevitable.
Bai Yu remembered the match Lu Sheng was talking about. He hadn't shown any irregularities after switching keyboards, and the opposing team never noticed either. No one had launched any focused attacks, and even after the game ended, not a single person including Bai Yu himself, realized Lu Sheng had played with a different keyboard. Thinking about it now felt almost unsettling.
More importantly, it proved that Lu Sheng's ability to adapt was far better than he had previously thought.
Bai Yu realized he had misjudged him. He couldn’t help but look at Lu Sheng a few more times.
If he had known about Lu Sheng’s adaptability three years ago, he might not have been so determined to pick Lin Kun. At the time, Bai Yu had done a thorough evaluation. Since Lu Sheng had no experience working with a team, his adaptability score was low, which put him on par with Lin Kun. With no other distinguishing factors, Bai Yu had to choose one of them.
His gaze toward Lu Sheng shifted.
Lu Sheng noticed and smiled. He couldn’t quite hide the emotion in his voice. “You're only now realizing how good I am?”
He leaned in slightly. Bai Yu thought he was going to kiss him and instinctively stepped back, but Lu Sheng only reached past him and opened the supply cabinet.
“Where is it?”
Bai Yu didn’t react right away. “Where’s what?”
Lu Sheng raised an eyebrow and looked him over with a hint of scrutiny. “Weren’t we coming up here to grab a keyboard? What were you thinking about just now?”
Bai Yu coughed lightly. “I’ll get it.”
Honestly, it was Lu Sheng's fault for making his thoughts stray like that...
Every player has a registered keyboard model, plus backups for logistics to restock easily.
Lu Sheng had only registered his primary model, which had been out of production for years. It had since gone through multiple iterations, and newer versions were objectively better. No pro player still used that model, and it was hard to find online. Every restock involved long delays.
Bai Yu reminded him, “Unless you're really attached to this model, I suggest getting used to something newer.”
Lu Sheng took the box and opened it. “Let’s stick with this. I’m already used to it.”
Keyboard feel is a highly personal thing for pro players, so Bai Yu didn’t press the issue further.
Still, Lu Sheng’s replacement frequency seemed unusually high. Bai Yu picked up his hand and examined it closely.
You could tell a lot from Lu Sheng’s hands. His ring and middle fingers were especially long, which gave him smooth mechanical transitions. The backs of his hands were strong, and his palms were broad, allowing for quick reaction speed. Most importantly, his fingers were highly flexible, giving him full freedom in both micro and macro mechanics.
The only drawback was the intense pressure this playstyle placed on his hands. His knuckles were already starting to swell, and if this continued, it would eventually lead to serious strain.
Bai Yu gently pressed the back of his hand. “Does this spot hurt?”
Lu Sheng had been watching him the whole time, eyes fixed on him. “No.”
Bai Yu moved his hand. “What about here?”
The door to the storage room was closed. No lights were on. Only the sunlight streaming through the window lit up the small room. It created a soft glow around Bai Yu’s head. He was looking down, his eyelashes casting fragmented shadows, and his pale skin seemed almost translucent. The moment felt fragile and unreal.
He didn’t sense anything unusual. His lips moved softly in front of Lu Sheng. “You rely too much on finger pressure. You leave no room for cushioning, and you don’t know how to release force. That’s why your skill keys end up like that. If this keeps up, your hands won’t be able to take it. You really need to pay attention to—”
Before he could finish, Lu Sheng suddenly kissed him.
Bai Yu’s cheeks flushed. He took a step back and raised a hand between them. “I was being serious.”
But his voice held no real reproach. It was soft and unsteady, which made Lu Sheng’s heart itch even more. Dissatisfied with just that brief kiss, he looked down and pressed another kiss to Bai Yu’s lips, deeper this time. Their mouths met, tongues brushing, and he pulled Bai Yu into his arms, eager for more contact.
Bai Yu tried his best to keep up, but he had little experience. Lu Sheng came in strong and fast, and Bai Yu soon found himself retreating sideways.
Lu Sheng pulled him back and pressed him against the shelving.
Bai Yu was completely unprepared and stumbled.
His body suddenly lifted. Lu Sheng held him in place effortlessly. His grip was strong, making it impossible to break free. Forcefully resisting might risk injuring his hands, so Bai Yu didn’t fight him too hard. To Lu Sheng, he seemed especially obedient today.
This was their second kiss. Lu Sheng was clearly more experienced now. Seeing Bai Yu still hesitant, he gently pried open his jaw with his fingers to deepen the kiss.
Lu Sheng had always been a fast learner. While living in North America, he had seen all kinds of people kiss. Men, women, and every possible variation in between. He had watched enough to understand all the moves and angles, but this was his first time actually doing it. He poured everything into Bai Yu. His body leaned down, his lips moved with persistence, eager to explore every corner. He was curious here, and curious there. He liked it this way, liked it that way...
Bai Yu had always been reserved. Even seeing someone else kiss made him politely look away. He had never encountered anyone like Lu Sheng before. Overwhelmed, he quickly raised his hand. “Enough.”
Lu Sheng still had more he wanted to try, but he stopped reluctantly. He licked his lips and glanced at Bai Yu, who was flushed and avoiding his gaze. It was the first time he had seen Bai Yu like this. A strange and tingling satisfaction bloomed in his chest. He reached out and gently wiped the corner of Bai Yu’s mouth. “Can I see you after practice tonight?”
Bai Yu was still recovering. He almost nodded before coming back to his senses. “Of course not. Practice ends really late. You need proper rest.”
Lu Sheng looked a little disappointed. He wanted to say that losing some sleep wasn’t a big deal, but in the end, he gave in. “Alright.”
He stepped aside. Bai Yu fixed his clothes and checked himself in case anything looked out of place, then grabbed the box and turned to leave. When he noticed Lu Sheng still hadn’t moved, he asked, “Aren’t you coming?”
Lu Sheng set the keyboard down. “You go first.”
Then, once Bai Yu was out of sight, Lu Sheng quietly adjusted his pants...
Even though the kiss had been deep, there had been no upper or lower body contact. Bai Yu had been too stunned to realize at the time.
Now the realization hit. His face, which had just cooled down, heated up again.
Bai Yu turned around in a panic. “Take your time. No rush.”
Back in the training room, Bai Yu didn’t calm down like he had expected. In fact, he couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened.
Song Bo was speaking to him, but he didn’t hear a word. He had to interrupt. “Sorry, what did you just say? I didn’t catch that.”
Song Bo repeated himself. At that moment, Lu Sheng came back downstairs. He had changed clothes and even taken a cold shower. His body was still cool to the touch, but his expression was completely refreshed. The frustrated tension from earlier training sessions was gone. As he walked in, he even greeted Fang Zhixu in passing.
Lin Kun noticed how long he had been gone and looked up. “Lu Sheng broke protocol. Minus two hundred.”
Lu Sheng didn’t argue. “Go ahead.”
Bai Yu saw his expression and immediately understood what had happened upstairs. He gave a sharp cough. “Sorry, what were you saying just now? I really didn’t hear you.”
Song Bo looked like he was about to cry.
If Bai Yu didn’t look so genuinely apologetic, he would have thought his entire proposal was complete garbage.
That afternoon, after practice, Bai Yu gathered the team to review a match.
It was the second playoff match: TG versus TUP.
Bai Yu had good relations with both teams, so he didn’t show any bias. “Ningmeng’s progress is obvious. After scrimming with us for so long, his playstyle has changed a lot. Especially in the support role. He’s much more agile now, and he kept Cao Xinzhi completely suppressed.”
Cao Xinzhi’s biggest strength was ganking, especially on the bot lane.
TUP’s bot lane was their strongest point, so everyone had expected Ningmeng to suffer. No one anticipated them adapting so well, and there wasn’t even a delay in their development.
The live chat was full of praise for how much stronger Ningmeng had become.
TG and TUP were neck and neck in the standings. This match had been full of uncertainty, but TUP’s execution was flawless.
Song Bo nodded beside him. He had noticed something too. “It really seems like anti-pressure training helped both teams a lot. I still don’t get why the other squads are so resistant to it.”
When the idea of stress testing in scrims was first suggested, TG’s management had rejected it. That left RAG to train mostly with TUP, and now the difference was starting to show.
Bai Yu let out a sigh. "TG’s management dismissed pressure training as nothing more than glorified sparring, so they rejected it outright. Sometimes, you really can't have outsiders managing professionals. Some of their decisions are just plain frustrating."
With TG showing no progress and TUP clearly improving, the outcome of this match was already set.
The fourth game was supposed to be TG’s chance to go on the offensive, but TUP held the line with ease and closed out the series with a 3–1 victory.
TG’s loss meant their playoffs had ended here. They had prepared so many strategies, put in so much effort, and yet fell at the very first hurdle. Anyone watching would feel disheartened.
On stage, Cao Xinzhi looked like he had lost all his edge. When the opposing team came to shake hands, he kept his head down.
This match wasn’t entirely his fault, but he hadn’t performed up to his usual standard. This playoff series would likely become a psychological burden for him in the future.
Bai Yu watched in silence for a long time. It wasn’t until the post-game interview ended that he finally looked away and said softly, “Let’s go. Time to train.”
TG’s loss was a wake-up call.
If they didn’t keep pushing forward, RAG would be the next TG.
Unlike TIN, they didn’t have enough points to qualify for Worlds. If they didn’t win the playoffs championship, none of the matches after that would matter. An entire year’s effort would be meaningless.
Bai Yu’s mood affected everyone else. Xu Bo and Qi Yi doubled down on their practice, actively engaging with feedback. No one wanted to drag Bai Yu down.
Fang Zhixu kept staring at Bai Yu. When Bai Yu finally looked his way, he quickly averted his gaze.
But Bai Yu had already noticed. As if something occurred to him, he suddenly got up and walked over to stand behind Fang Zhixu. He didn’t say anything, just quietly watched him train.