While Lin Jiang was quietly training, the public discourse surrounding him never ceased.
Almost everyone strongly opposed him joining OT. Old Mao, in particular, got pissed off whenever the topic came up: “Of all the teams, why the hell OT? Even taking half a year off and finding a new team next season would be a thousand times better. Talk him out of it? I’ve been trying every damn fucking day—just short of holding a gun to his head! But he’s dead set on going. Says he has to go head-to-head with OT’s AD and see who’s got the heavier fists…”
Shen Ju first made a name for himself by throwing punches at his team’s mid laner— an outburst that earned him a six-month suspension. Even after he joined OT, he often clashed with their mid laner.
At the time, everyone was just messing around with memes and jokes online. No one thought it would come back to bite them.
Rumor had it Shen Ju even trained in Muay Thai on the side. How was their delicate, helpless Lin Jiang supposed to survive over there?
Fans were all sobbing and crying, but what’s done is done.
They could only huddle in Old Mao’s livestream to get updates on Lin Jiang. Some even flooded Shen Ju’s comment section, begging him to go easy on Lin Jiang. Others started sending Lin Jiang self-defense tutorials, hoping he could learn to protect himself.
Every morning, the first thing fans did was check the trending topics—terrified they’d see a headline like #Shen Ju and Lin Jiang Got into a Fight#.
At this moment, Old Mao’s livestream was still packed with Lin Jiang’s fans. He had been scolding him every day before, but recently suddenly quieted down. The barrage was flooded with people asking if Lin Jiang had gotten into trouble.
Old Mao accidentally let something slip: “Last time during the training match, I felt…”
Realizing what he said, he quickly corrected himself: “I mean, last time we played together and it seemed fine. Don’t worry, Lin Jiang has absolute authority in OT. He’s written it into his contract, so even if he really doesn’t get along with others, it’s them who’d be leaving, not him…”
Fans: !!!
[Our Jiang??? Is he really that powerful?!]
[Wait, even Shen Ju would have to pack up and leave if he crossed him?]
[Wuwu, thank heavens…]
[Good thing OT’s management knows what’s up.]
[Suddenly realizing OT might not be all that bad (?)]
[Can you believe it, folks? I’m actually starting to think OT’s not so bad…]
[I’m even beginning to look forward to the Summer Split…?]
Because they firmly believed that with Lin Jiang on board, OT is a team where even the underdogs have to rise up and shine[mfn]高低都得飞一飞 )gāo dī dōu děi fēi yī fēi) – lit. High or low, all have to fly; meaning everyone must perform well or rise up, no matter their level[/mfn]!
***
In the center of all this buzz, Lin Jiang was leisurely leaning against the coffee machine, analyzing team compositions in his notebook while brewing coffee for his teammates. His profile exuded an air of serene tranquility.
The coffee machine gurgled gently. The pen scratched softly on paper. Everything was still, peaceful.
He had this effortless ease about him. Just standing there, he looked like a scene out of a painting.
Every time Song Zhixu saw it, he’d sigh to his friends.
[Song Zhixu: You might not believe this, but Lin Jiang is making coffee for me.]
[Friends: ? What gives you the right? Lin Jiang’s making coffee for you? Do you have any idea how much his hands are worth?]
Whenever this happened, Song Zhixu would smugly flash a photo he’d secretly taken— proving that not only did Lin Jiang brew coffee for them, but he even added milk to it.
[Friends: !!!]
[Friends: Holy crap, I’m so jealous!]
After sending the message, Song Zhixu was over the moon. Holding the coffee Lin Jiang had handed him, he couldn’t bear to drink it—instead, he snapped a sneaky photo and posted it on his official account.
[OT_metoo: Seems delicious just from the looks of it]
[Fan: Wait… you know how to make coffee?]
[OT_metoo: Nope.]
The comment section immediately burst into speculation—
[It was Old Wen who made it for you, right?]
[If not Old Wen then Ah Deng—definitely not Shen Ju.]
[Knew it wasn’t you. Classic “Useless Song Zhixu.”]
[So pretentious. Taking a photo just for a cup of coffee!]
[Don’t drink it. Get lost.]
Song Zhixu scrolled through the comments and scoffed, “Not a single one guessed it right.”
Just as he was about to spill the truth, Du Lun’s voice echoed through the training room: “Listen up, everyone. The Summer Split starts in two days. Our first match is scheduled for Day 3, so we only have about four days left to train. After discussing with the coaching staff, we won’t schedule any training matches for now. Focus on ranked games to maintain your form. If you have any issues, let us know immediately.”
As soon as Du Lun finished speaking, Song Zhixu’s mischievous side kicked in. He rolled his gaming chair over to Lin Jiang and asked, “Captain, wanna duo queue with me?”
Lin Jiang didn’t even look up. “You queue with A’Deng.”
“Captain, what about you?”
If he queued with A’Deng and Shen Ju with Zhou Wen, that meant Lin Jiang would be playing solo.
Both Zhou Wen and A’Deng turned to look at Lin Jiang. Even Shen Ju paused his actions, tilting his head slightly to listen.
The scratching of the pen tip filled the air as Lin Jiang wrote in clean, elegant strokes. His voice was surprisingly gentle as he said, “I’ll queue with Shen Ju.”
Shen Ju froze in place, instinctively staring at Lin Jiang.
Song Zhixu couldn’t make sense of it at all.
In the corner, Zhou Wen flashed Lin Jiang a grateful smile.
Previously, Lin Jiang had asked Zhou Wen to queue with Shen Ju for a while, but it didn’t work out well. Zhou Wen had his own special training method, and duo queuing with Shen Ju actually made his form decline.
He had privately shared his thoughts with Lin Jiang, expecting to be reprimanded for not being a team player. But to his surprise, Lin Jiang paused for a long moment before nodding in agreement.
“I may not understand, but I respect your choice.”
At the end of their conversation, he gave Zhou Wen a reassuring pat on the head. “Train the way that feels right for you. I’ll handle the coach.”
Zhou Wen finally felt truly understood. He was deeply thankful to Lin Jiang, and it only strengthened his resolve to stick to his own methods, believing he would prove himself soon.
But how would Lin Jiang queue with Shen Ju?
The mid laner and AD are like two parallel lines in the game—rarely intersecting.
Right now, Shen Ju had the same question in mind. But before he could figure it out, what mattered more was finishing this game quickly.
A game that should have dragged on for another ten minutes ended prematurely under Shen Ju’s aggressive plays.
Returning to the lobby, he found Lin Jiang had already created the room and was waiting. An invitation popped up with a soft ding. He clicked to join without thinking.
Through the headset came Lin Jiang’s voice as he adjusted his mic, “Ahem, you ready?”
Shen Ju: “Mm.”
His heart started beating a little faster.
He didn’t like to talk much, and Lin Jiang didn’t say anything else either. The voice chat quickly fell silent, leaving only the sounds of the game.
When they trained as a full five-man team, he never noticed.
But now, with just the two of them in the voice chat, even the sound of Lin Jiang’s keyboard tapping or his occasional soft laugh was crystal clear right beside him.
Another ding—it was Shen Ju’s turn to select a champion.
He locked in Kai’Sa, his signature pick.
When it was Lin Jiang’s turn, Shen Ju suddenly realized and said, “Wait, why are you playing support?”
Lin Jiang chose support partly because mid laners and ADs have difficulty duo queuing and are easily targeted by the enemy, and partly because he wanted a first-person perspective to better understand Shen Ju’s playstyle.
“I picked support from the start—what did you think I’d play?”
Shen Ju was known for his aggressive laning and preferred supports with strong crowd control like Thresh or Nautilus. But Thresh was banned, Nautilus was taken, and rest didn’t pair well with Kai’Sa.
If he had to choose, Shen Ju would have preferred Alistar. However, considering Lin Jiang didn’t normally play support, he settled for something easier to handle: “Braum.”
“Braum, huh?” Lin Jiang scrolled through the champion list. “Would Alistar be a better pick? Maybe I should go with him.” As he spoke, he really went ahead and locked him in.
Shen Ju took a deep breath. In the silent voice chat, he could hear the sound of his own heartbeat.
Braum leaned more toward counter-engaging and relied heavily on the AD’s mechanics, while Alistar would make Shen Ju’s laning phase much smoother—but at the cost of being far more demanding for Lin Jiang to play.
By picking Alistar, Lin Jiang wasn’t just playing around[mfn]玩玩而已 (wán wán ér yǐ) – Just messing around (idiom); not taking it seriously[/mfn]. He truly intended to support him.
What’s it like to have a top-tier mid laner play support just for you?
Shen Ju got to experience it firsthand in this game.
Lin Jiang’s reaction time and mechanics were among the best in the league.
Shen Ju didn’t even need to think—Lin Jiang seamlessly strung together perfect combos, creating the ideal setup for him to deal damage.
Even if Shen Ju got cornered or hooked by the enemy, Lin Jiang would react in a flash—slamming into the enemy AD with his W, then turning back to help Shen Ju counterattack Nautilus. Their coordination felt so natural, it felt like they’d rehearsed it tens of thousands of times[mfn]成千上万 (chéng qiān shàng wàn) – lit. by the thousands and tens of thousands (idiom); untold numbers; innumerable; thousands upon thousands[/mfn].
As the game progressed, Shen Ju couldn’t help but recall that friendly match from years ago—
He’d been completely crushed in lane, and the enemy jungler had relentlessly targeted him, trying to break his mentality.
Just as he was about to mentally collapse, Lin Jiang gave up his own gold to support him.
With trust alone, Lin Jiang built a bridge over the rift between them—and only then did Shen Ju manage to claw his way back from the brink and turn the game around.
Shen Ju landed the final auto-attack. As the last enemy fell, the system voice chimed in:
Double Kill!
A perfect ending to their match.
His fingers were tingling. They had won.
Lin Jiang chuckled softly over the headset, “Your hand speed is really fast…”
His trust had once saved Shen Ju when he was on the brink of defeat.
And now, years later, it had once again awakened the hope in his heart.
Shen Ju never even dared to dream that Lin Jiang would join his team.
But here he was—sitting right beside him.
Shen Ju’s breathing grew uneven. He instinctively turned to look at Lin Jiang, wanting to say something—but before he could speak, Lin Jiang’s phone rang.
“Let me take this.” Lin Jiang stood up.
An unfamiliar number flashed on his screen. He stepped onto the balcony to answer. After hearing the caller, he furrowed his brow without realizing it and turned his back to the training room.
Shen Ju stared at his retreating figure for a long moment until a sudden pat on his shoulder snapped him out of it.
“Hey, how does it feel having the captain play support for you?”
Song Zhixu pulled up Lin Jiang’s game stats.
“Wow, 2 kills, 1 death, 12 assists—the captain’s Alistar is legit. So, Shen Ju, what do you think of the new captain?”
Song Zhixu nudged him, and only then did Shen Ju tear his gaze away. He silently clicked through the post-game screen, then gave a non-committal reply after another nudge: “He’s alright.”
“Just alright?” Song Zhixu mulled it over. “If you say ‘alright,’ that probably means ‘really good,’ huh? Honestly, I think the new captain’s a pretty good guy too…”
As Shen Ju listened, his eyes unconsciously drifted back to the balcony.
***
On the balcony, Lin Jiang picked up the call. “Hello.”
There was a long silence before a voice finally came through: “Lin Jiang, why did you join OT?”
The voice sounded deeper than usual, but Lin Jiang recognized it immediately.
“Who gave you this number?”
***
Author’s Note:
Song Zhixu: Can anyone relate?! Our captain would rather play support than duo queue with me!!
Last chapter’s “Weak Voice, Hungry Yet?” was a taunt.
— — — —
