TCWSITD – Chapter 2

***

Really fucking hurts—

Lin Jiang thought to himself.

Who still brings a metal cup to watch matches?

And why attack him? He was just the scapegoat substitute. If anyone deserves to be hit, it’s Alike. If he hadn’t been so full of himself, they would’ve won ages ago.

He clutched his throbbing head, his vision swimming as he suddenly saw the League of Legends interface from years ago.

Years of professional habit had his hand unconsciously[mfn]鬼使神差 (guǐ shǐ shén chāi) – demons and gods at work (idiom); unexplained event crying out for a supernatural explanation; felt compelled to act in a certain way without a clear reason[/mfn] clicking the mouse. The game loaded, and he was assigned to the mid lane. His ID stared back at him: AD Annihilator.

“Annihilator” is a term from League of Legends. It refers to the ability to kill the opposing AD with a single click—a name that’s as arrogant and malicious as the player behind it.

Back then, young Lin Jiang had been reckless and full of himself.[mfn]目中无人 (mù zhōng wú rén) – to consider everyone else beneath one (idiom); so arrogant that no-one else matters[/mfn] After being called in for a meeting with the manager once, he’d obediently changed it.

Staring at this old ID in front of him, Lin Jiang felt a wave of confusion.

It was as if he were dreaming, some mysterious magnetic force guiding him. Countless invisible lines direct his hands, locking in the champion he had once loved the most: [Zed.]

As the Master of Shadows, [Zed] reigned undisputed as the mid lane’s god of death. Any AD champion facing him might as well have been minions with no chance of survival.

Lin Jiang secured a total of 14 kills in this game, with 9 of them contributed by the opposing bot lane. In the final team fight, he even achieved the glorious feat of a penta kill.

At some point, a crowd had gathered behind him. “Damn, this [Zed] is insane!”

“When the internet cafe announced his ID earlier, I was still wondering who was so arrogant? Turns out he’s really a big shot…”

“I play AD, and watching him play just now gave me goosebumps on my arms.”

“Hey, if you’re this good, why don’t you go pro?”

Lin Jiang suddenly remembered that it was those exact words, spoken by someone in an internet cafe, that had pushed him to pursue a career in professional gaming.

The screen spun around, and it was his placement match. Just like back then, he easily secured a spot, followed by the selection match, internal matches, practice matches, and finally, the official competition.

He won medal after medal, created legend after legend, and led KUG to climb one peak after another.

Later, a meta change hit, and the mid lane’s role shifted from a carry to a utility role. They’re jungler, Zeng Yuan, once joked, “A’Jiang, I heard the meta’s changing. Are you gonna be unemployed soon?”

Lin Jiang brushed off the teasing with a smirk. “Even if every player in the world loses their job, I won’t.”

He decisively changed his playstyle, switching from a standard carry role to a more team-oriented mid laner.

To achieve victory, he smoothed out his edges.

To claim the trophy, he willingly embraced the utility role.

In the end, when the meta shifted back and the mid lane could once again be a carry role, everyone had forgotten, even he himself had forgotten—

He had once been the Mid Lane Demon, the nightmare of young ADs.

“Your playstyle isn’t entertaining; the audience doesn’t enjoy watching it.”

“Why don’t you dare pick assassins anymore?”

“Lin Jiang, are you scared?”

“…”

“river, you’re just a small stream.[mfn]小河 (xiǎo hé) – river or brook; used metaphorically to represent someone with limited ability or potential[/mfn] Why delude yourself into thinking you’re the ocean?”

Countless losses, countless retreats, countless moments of self-doubt.

The scene finally paused on a pair of black sneakers.

The long corridor loomed like a beast ready to devour him. Across from him, Alike smirked, his lips curling in amusement.

“Why can’t you just accept your defeat? river, your era is over. This is my time now.”

No, it’s impossible…

Lin Jiang wanted to refute him, but he felt like a mere spectator in this life, powerless to change anything.

Fate continued to drag him forward, finally stopping at that contract—a document riddled with traps and empty promises, the very thing that had plunged him into an inescapable abyss.

The empty meeting room was as quiet as a slaughterhouse. The manager sat primly across from him, a warm smile on his face.

“A’Jiang, the club has truly shown its deepest sincerity.”

“Look at your current form. It’s really not what it used to be, and your popularity is steadily declining. The club needs to make a profit, too.”

“This is honestly the best plan we’ve come up with for you.”

He signed it without a second thought.

Back then, Lin Jiang never imagined the club was playing both sides. While signing him, they were also pulling out all the stops to sign Alike.

When he saw Alike sitting in his seat with a malicious grin, Lin Jiang felt as though a few knives had been driven into his back.

He stood before Alike, his expression hardening for the first time.

“Get out of my seat.”

Alike patted his seat thoughtfully, before suddenly standing up and locking eyes with him.

With a dangerously playful grin, he said, “river, I told you after that match you’d pay the price. Now the tables have turned.[mfn]风水轮流转 (fēng shuǐ lún liú zhuàn) – refers to the changing of the winds (风水), symbolizing the cyclical nature of life and fortune. It suggests that power or control has shifted, and what goes around comes around[/mfn] Just you wait—I’ll crush you into the dirt.”

Later, those words came true.[mfn]一语成谶 (yī yǔ chéng chèn) – “The prophecy came true”; a kind of ominous prophecy, often with a sense of inevitable doom[/mfn]

No. Lin Jiang felt like he could no longer breathe.

The contract in front of him was full of traps.

Don’t sign it!

Around him, intersecting magnetic field lines materialized, taking control of his every move. The more he struggled, the tighter their restraint became.

It felt as though his soul and body had become two separate entities. His soul resisted, while his body remained firmly bound to the path of fate, unable to break free.

The contract was about to take effect, dragging him back into that dark, hopeless,[mfn]暗无天日 (àn wú tiān rì) – all black, no daylight (idiom); a world without justice[/mfn] and hellish[mfn]生不如死 (shēng bù rú sǐ) – “a life worse than death”; “to live is no better than to die” in English[/mfn] past.

Lin Jiang’s eyes turned blood-red. Ignoring the magnetic lines slicing into his skin, he fought with every ounce of strength against the pull of fate. The magnetic field lines began to snap under the strain—one, two, countless strands…

He finally broke free from the control, lunging forward to stop the pen in his hand.

“Don’t sign it!”

The magnetic lines around him vanished in an instant. He regained full control of his body, all his senses sharp and vivid.

Lin Jiang stared at the pen in his hand in disbelief, unable to resist clicking it twice. The sensation felt too real, it was nothing like a dream at all. It was as if—

He’d really gone back to the day he signed that contract!

Lin Jiang’s gaze snapped to the signed document in front of him. The character Jiang was only one stroke away from completion.

The manager’s voice reached his ears: “Huh, is the pen out of ink? Here use mine.”

The heavy fountain pen rolled towards him, and the cold touch made Lin Jiang pull back. Staring at the contract in his hand, his heart started pounding wildly.

He didn’t care if this was real or not.

He only had one thought in his mind—

To hell with this contract!

With a deafening rip, Lin Jiang tore the contract apart. Afraid that the contract would still take effect, he tore it twice more for good measure.

The manager, who had been calm and composed, began to panic. “A’Jiang, i-i-if there’s anything you’re not satisfied with, we can discuss it further—”

Lin Jiang had nothing to discuss with him. He slammed the torn contract on the table. “Was this the same price when you signed Alike? He’s contract price is probably more than ten times mine, right?”

Sweat beaded on the manager’s forehead. “A’Jiang, let me explain—”

“This little amount…” Lin Jiang leaned heavily on the table, his voice cold as he finally said the words he’d buried for years. “… yet you want to lock me in for five years? Dream on.”

All the resentment he had bottled up from those three years of hellish life, finally found a release—like Pandora’s box opening, malice running rampant.

The manager’s expression shifted from shock to unease, then finally settled into caution. “A’Jiang, have you heard any rumors? You have to believe me; the club would never treat you unfairly…”

Lin Jiang shot him with a cold smirk, as if to say, “Do you think I believe that?” His face darkened, and with a decisive turn, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

He had wanted to do this for a long time.

He had dreamed countless nights of slamming that contract onto the table and throwing it right in their faces—

Lin Jiang strode down the familiar hallway, his pace quickening with each step. The exhilaration of breaking free from fate felt almost surreal.

At the end of the hallway stood the same pair of black sneakers.

Alike stopped in front of him, and just like back then, he smiled at him, gloating.

“river, aren’t you going to welcome me? I’ll soon be a member of KUG too.”

Lin Jiang shot him a glance, as if looking at a dog. He brushed past him, went back to his room, wrote his resignation letter, then packed his things to leave.

Alike stared at him for a while, then suddenly reacted, “Where are you going with all that stuff?”

“Home.”

His expression changed. “You didn’t renew your contract with the club?”

Lin Jiang stopped packing and looked up at him. For the first time, Alike saw coldness in those usually gentle eyes. “No, I didn’t.”

Alike couldn’t tell whether Lin Jiang was fleeing in fear, or if he simply refused to be on the same team as him and was desperate to leave.

His voice turned icy. “Is this how you admit defeat?”

Lin Jiang acted as if he hadn’t heard and continued packing his things. The moment he got the green light to leave, he left without looking back.

By the time he left, word had already spread through the club. Zeng Yuan, the jungler to whom he was closest, was the first to call him.

“A’Jiang, what are you doing? Have you been hexed or something? Hurry up and come back! The transfer window[mfn]a specific period of time, usually during the off-season, when professional teams can buy, sell, or trade players, or pick up free agents.[/mfn] is about to close. Aren’t you afraid you won’t have any matches to play if you leave KUG? I’ll smooth things over with the manager later, just come back first…”

Lin Jiang gazed at the open sky and the endless path ahead, feeling an overwhelming sense of freedom and relief. “No, I’m not coming back.”

Zeng Yuan’s frustration was obvious. “Where can you go if you leave KUG?”

Lin Jiang responded with a light, carefree tone. “Join a lower-tier team, head to LDL, or become a streamer—anyway, I won’t starve.”

Zeng Yuan sensed he wasn’t joking. “Why did you suddenly make this decision? Did the club bully you?”

This belated concern, stretching across both time and space, made Lin Jiang’s eyes sting slightly. Back when he had been relegated to the bench, Zeng Yuan was the only one who spoke up for him.

But KUG is no longer the team it once was. The roster had shifted, senior management had changed, and even the shareholders had been replaced multiple times.

He had once been the backbone of this place, but now, he was nothing.

“KUG isn’t worth it.”

The moment he pushed open the revolving door, Lin Jiang felt a long-lost sense of freedom.

At the top of the tallest building in S City, beneath the dark sky and the shifting neon lights, a colorful screen flickered—

[2023 Happy Summer Festival, Welcome]

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