WT was founded a few years ago, and at first, it didn’t draw much attention. It wasn’t until the year Qi Song won the championship that the team finally gained public recognition. While Qi Song’s mechanical skill was a factor, it was their seamless teamwork that truly made them stand out.
Ever since Seven left, WT brought in a new mid-laner. Though their performance wasn’t bad, it wasn’t particularly impressive either. For a while, the public sentiment was grim—many thought WT was done for. But recently, with news of Seven’s return, the team had once again become a hot topic.
Seven’s popularity had skyrocketed at a frightening pace. Hundreds of media outlets were clamoring to interview him. As a result, WT had tightened internal security considerably. Chi Zhan had to pass through multiple layers of screening before finally entering the base.
A staff member led him inside and explained, “Seven’s still here. He hasn’t gone out. But if he’s not practicing at this hour, he’s probably asleep.”
In the training room, several young esports players were in the middle of a game, shouting things like, “Why didn’t you heal me?!” and “Teamfight! Teamfight now!”
But Seven wasn’t among them.
Chi Zhan stood quietly to the side, watching. It wasn’t until Chen Che yawned and stretched that he noticed someone was there. He sprang out of his chair in surprise.
“Whoa, someone’s here! Stop the game!”
Then he got a good look at the visitor—and froze.
God, another man just as good-looking as Captain Qi?
If Qi Song was a pristine ice sculpture that kept people at a distance, then this young man standing before them radiated gentleness—like spring rain cascading down a quiet mountain. Just looking at him made people want to draw closer.
“Hi, hi! I’m Chen Che. That’s Wen An! The others had stuff to do and left. Are you here for an interview?”
Chen Che assumed Chi Zhan was a reporter. He glanced around—where was the camera?
“I’m not a reporter. I’m Secretary Chi from Zhou Rui Group. I came to speak with Seven about—”
Chen Che didn’t catch the rest. His mind was already spiraling in despair.
Why is it always Qi-ge people come looking for? Why not him?! He was charming and dashing too! How come no one ever wanted to collaborate with him?
Wen An paused his game and glanced back at Chi Zhan. His gaze lingered, as if uncertain, before he gave a few more glances.
“Seven’s back in his room. He’s probably asleep. I can go wake him.”
“Asleep already…?”
Chi Zhan was momentarily stunned.
“We’ve been on intense training schedules lately—day and night are flipped for us,” Wen An explained. “He also hasn’t checked his phone recently. If your messages went unanswered, we apologize.”
Now Chi Zhan finally understood why Seven’s replies were sometimes prompt and other times delayed.
Still, the livestreams were clearly ongoing on their monitors, and the game continued. It didn’t seem right to just walk away.
“You guys keep playing. I’ll wait here.”
“He can sleep for hours. If nobody wakes him, you might be stuck here till night. You could try knocking. If the door opens, he’s probably not asleep. But once Seven’s out, almost nothing wakes him.”
Chi Zhan nodded. Wen An added, “That works too. Seven lives on the first floor. But his room is… a bit special. Secretary Chi, you’re not allergic to animal fur, are you?”
Chi Zhan knew Seven had a cow-patterned cat and shook his head.
“You’re not scared of cats, are you?” Chen Che chimed in. “His cat’s vicious—attacks on sight. Be careful, or we’ll be dragging you out for a rabies shot.”
They said it with such conviction that Chi Zhan couldn’t help but grow wary.
The WT base wasn’t large, but it was well-organized and nicely decorated. The environment was comfortable, and the team atmosphere relaxed. The player rooms were upstairs, each door labeled with a name.
“Wen An, Chen Che… Qi Song.”
Found it.
Chi Zhan stood before the door, suddenly feeling nervous. He began pacing lightly in front of it.
…Which just made him seem even more suspicious.
What should he say when they meet?
Do you remember me? We just played a game together. I’m your fan.
Chi Zhan finally stopped pacing, mustered his courage, and gently knocked on the door.
No response. Shot down before even setting off.
Chi Zhan sighed inwardly and prepared to knock again. If there was still no reply, then he’d have to—
He thought he heard scratching from inside, and then the door suddenly swung open.
His hand froze mid-knock.
Before he could even peek into the room, something blurred past his vision and leapt straight into his arms.
“Mrow!”
Startled, Chi Zhan instinctively caught the fluffball that climbed up his arm, latched onto his shoulder, and let its soft, fluffy paws plop down on him. The plush texture of its fur left him utterly stunned.
The cat acted like it had known him forever. Its owner clearly hadn’t expected this either and quickly said, “Milk, get down.”
Chi Zhan was about to lift the cat off when he was stopped.
“It scratches. Sorry, let me.”
The man stepped closer, and in an instant, the distance between them vanished. When Qi Song reached out to retrieve the cat, it brought them into an almost-embrace. A cool, clean scent—like snowfall settling on pine branches—enveloped Chi Zhan, clouding his senses completely.
The kitten was unusually hyper today, practically using Chi Zhan as a parkour playground. It took Qi Song grabbing it by the scruff—its fate-granted handle—to finally wrestle it into submission, though the little thing still meowed defiantly.
Qi Song reached into his pocket and pulled out his secret weapon: catnip. At last, the cow-patterned cat gave a lazy mewl and collapsed into a boneless loaf.
Qi Song, it seemed, had a particular soft spot for his cat. He gave its head a gentle rub, then finally looked up at Chi Zhan. “Sorry, did it—”
The words cut off mid-sentence. Qi Song’s voice halted.
Chi Zhan snapped back to himself.
“I’m fine. I just froze for a second. Your cat is adorable.”
Qi Song didn’t reply. He just stared at him, eyes filled with disbelief, surprise, and something else—something unspoken. But in the next second, those emotions were swiftly tucked away.
Chi Zhan hadn’t noticed the storm of complicated feelings in Qi Song’s gaze. His heart was still racing from that moment just now.
“Is the cat okay?”
