Chapter 14 – Turning the Tide of Public Opinion
Even for a Level 6 Irelia, taking down a Level 5 Ryze was just barely out of burst range.
Realizing the damage wasn’t enough, Lin Jiang spotted A’Deng farming the F6 camp and casually asked, “Mind if I take the small ones?”
A’Deng immediately backed off without hesitation. “Captain, you go ahead and take them! Take the big one too. Want the blue buff? I can save the next one for you, Captain?”
Lin Jiang was nearly overwhelmed by A’Deng’s enthusiasm. After clearing the camp, he was more than satisfied. “No need. I’ll withdraw some funds from the enemy.[mfn]去对面提款 (wǒ qù duì miàn tí kuǎn) – a clever, sarcastic slang used for killing the enemy to farm gold[/mfn]”
With that, he returned to lane and instantly killed Ryze on the spot.
The commentators watching the replay couldn’t help but comment, “river truly lives up to being a four-year veteran—he’s like a cunning fox, outplaying his opponent at every turn.”
The enemy could only see his level, not his experience bar. So Ryze still thought Lin Jiang had just a one-level lead.
But then Lin Jiang used Q to last-hit a minion and close the gap, instantly hitting Level 6. Before he even landed from mid-air, he unleashed a full combo right in Ryze’s face, instantly triggering four stacks of his passive.
With a flurry of sharp ‘swish swish swish’ sounds and streaks of afterimages, Ryze didn’t even have time to react—Lin Jiang had already finished him off cleanly with his blade.
A fully stacked Irelia is basically a dueling god—and Lin Jiang still had Ignite in his pocket the whole time.
Realizing he had no way to escape, Ryze didn’t even dare burn Flash and could only die with regret. Even as the screen turned gray, he still couldn’t figure out when exactly Lin Jiang had set his sights on killing him—or how he’d manage to gain so much experience[mfn]Experience points (XP) are crucial for leveling up your champion and gaining access to stronger abilities and stats. XP is earned through various in-game actions, primarily by defeating enemies (both champions and minions) and being near those deaths[/mfn].
A’Deng was ecstatic over the solo kill. “Captain, you’re too strong!”
Zhou Wen started analyzing, “The captain’s reaction time must be around 0.2 to 0.3 seconds, right?”
“Holy crap,” Song Zhixu was floored. “Captain, I knew you were strong, but I didn’t expect you to be this strong!”
Lin Jiang just smiled. “Nah, this one’s all thanks to A’Deng.”
A’Deng, who had been wandering aimlessly all game, was surprised.
This counts as making a contribution? In that case, I’m all for it!
At that moment, Shen Ju scored a kill in bot lane with help from Zhou Wen and even grabbed two turret plates, giving him a 500 gold lead in his lane.
The enemy jungler tried to gank, but Lin Jiang rotated just in time. The three of them chunked the enemies low, and Lin Jiang cleaned up, securing a double kill.
Shen Ju followed up by taking the enemy’s first turret, extending his gold lead to 1,000.
Meanwhile, Lin Jiang teamed up with A’Deng to secure the Rift Herald and used it to take down the mid turret, putting himself 2,000 gold ahead of the opposing mid laner.
Even Song Zhixu, who’d never really stepped up before, finally snagged his first kill thanks to Lin Jiang’s roaming support, giving him a 500 gold lead.
Riding the wave of his advantage, Song Zhixu got a bit cocky, chasing down the enemy Renekton and taunting, “Skipped meals or what? Why so weak?”
OT dominated all three lanes. By the 25-minute mark, they pushed straight forward, securing the first game’s victory!
This game was won easily, and the audience exclaimed how satisfying it was.
Lin Jiang’s arrival shifted the momentum for OT. He was able to spread his middle lane advantage across the other two lanes, even making his team’s jungler—long known for an unpredictable, inconsistent playstyle—look less inexperienced.
The live broadcast’s popularity skyrocketed. The haters waiting for Lin Jiang’s downfall were left eating their words, while KUG faced a fresh wave of criticism.
VT’s confidence was thoroughly shattered by Lin Jiang, and the second game was even worse, ending quicker than the first.
With this win, OT moved up to sixth place with a 1:0 lead and even made the top three trending topics online.
One of the trending topics involved Shen Ju, with fans unanimously agreeing that his gameplay had matured.
The other two were about Lin Jiang.
One was titled #LinJiang’sMoodHasClearlyImproved.
Netizens shared videos of Lin Jiang at KUG, looking visibly exhausted yet still putting on a professional front, along with photos of him being left out by his teammates—sitting alone in a corner, playing on his phone.
In stark contrast, screenshots from his matches leading OT showed a very different Lin Jiang—two games totaling less than an hour, yet he was captured smiling at least twenty times.
The comment section exploded—
[Wow, I’ve never seen river smile this genuinely happy before.]
[There is indeed a huge difference between a real smile and a fake one.]
[Just how toxic is KUG? To make such a naturally cheerful player unable to smile unless it’s for show!]
[He literally fled to OT overnight rather than stay in that dumpster fire KUG—management should reflect on themselves.]
[Stop making stuff up. Lin Jiang’s smiling because his wife’s in the hospital having their baby, not because he finally escaped that terrible KUG (doge emoji).]
Netizens even turned it into a meme, using Lin Jiang’s brightest smile with the caption: [You can’t imagine how happy I am.]
Another version read: [Damn, finally broke free.]
The other trending topic about Lin Jiang was #LinJiang’sPlaystyleBenefitsHisTeammates.
Netizens shared screenshots highlighting the stark difference between KUG’s first game and OT’s first game.
KUG’s screenshots were almost entirely:
The jungler came to gank mid, support came to gank mid, top laner came to gank mid, support brought jungler to gank mid, support brought AD to gank mid, support brought everyone to gank mid.
One particularly hilarious screenshot showed the enemy mid laner helpless under his turret, as Alike and his four teammates brutally slaughtered him. The poor guy was so terrified his face blurred on the live broadcast.
A cheeky netizen screenshotted the moment and added the caption: [Oh my god, run! The whole village is here!]
The comment section was absolutely losing it—before Alike’s fans could even begin damage control, a sea of “LMAO”s had already flooded in.
Meanwhile, screenshots from OT’s first game told a very different story:
Lin Jiang solo-killed mid.
Lin Jiang counter-killed the enemy.
Lin Jiang went bot and killed the enemy.
Lin Jiang went into the jungle and killed the enemy.
Lin Jiang brought the jungler top—and guess what? Another kill.
Both were mid laners. Both dominated their opponents. Both hit double-digit kills. Both earned MVP. Yet the difference was comical.
[Lin Jiang’s playstyle: I’ll kill them all!]
[Alike’s playstyle: Hold them down so I can kill them all!]
The contrast couldn’t be clearer—Lin Jiang and Alike’s playstyles are worlds apart.
Alike’s success was built on the backs of his teammates. Sure, he walked away with two MVP titles, but his teammates? They were basically disposable pawns, left with awful stats.
Meanwhile, Lin Jiang shared his lead across the map. He even gave kills to teammates, helping everyone shine. By the end of the match, every player had contributed meaningfully and looked solid on paper.
Especially Shen Ju, who even secured the MVP in the second game.
As a result, another meme emerged in the comment section—
[Lin Jiang: Everyone, get up to the table and eat!][mfn]都给我上桌吃饭 (dū gěi wǒ shàng zhuō chī fàn) – a metaphor meaning “I bring everyone along to share in the rewards.”[/mfn]
[Alike: Everyone, get off the table and watch me eat!][mfn]都给我下桌看我吃饭 (dū gěi wǒ xià zhuō kàn wǒ chī fàn) – a sarcastic jab implying that Alike hogs all the credit while teammates are sidelined as spectators—he wins, they suffer.[/mfn]
Some users even compiled before-and-after stats comparing Lin Jiang’s teammates.
They showed that when Lin Jiang was in KUG, his teammates often got MVPs. But ever since Alike joined KUG, his teammates have all just laid flat[mfn]躺了 (tǎng liǎo) – Chinese internet slang, often used to mock someone who’s contributing nothing or just being carried in a game[/mfn].
In contrast, after Lin Jiang moved to OT, each teammate started to show their own brilliance.
[Here’s a little-known fact: Lin Jiang’s playstyle may not be as entertaining as it was two years ago, but don’t forget that he still holds the highest win rate among all mid laners in the past three seasons—and that hasn’t changed even after moving to OT.]
As soon as this conclusion came out, it instantly gave netizens goosebumps.
The more they thought about it, the more terrifying it felt.
But of course, haters weren’t having any of it. To them, Lin Jiang just beat VT—not exactly a feat worth all that hype.
[Just wait and see, OT will show their true colors once they face a strong team.]
[LMAO, that “top win rate” won’t last long.]
[I don’t believe he can drag OT along and still maintain the highest record.]
Still, the majority of public opinion leaned in Lin Jiang’s favor.
After being criticized for two days, he successfully reversed the tide.
Meanwhile, KUG’s operations department racked their brains, still unable to figure out what Lin Jiang relied on to go against capital[mfn]跟资本抗衡 (gēn zī běn kàng héng) – refers not just to money, but to the powerful forces backing organizations; Used to express a kind of David-vs-Goliath resistance[/mfn].
Just then, the operations manager got a call from higher up. He rushed to curry favor: “Don’t worry, sir. I’m about to drop a batch of dirt on Lin Jiang. We’ll sway public opinion back in no time.”
The voice on the other end clicked their tongue—sounding displeased. “No need. The higher-ups just gave instructions—Lin Jiang’s an old contributor to KUG. Let’s end things on good terms.”
The manager froze.
Wasn’t it just a few days ago they said they’d make Lin Jiang suffer? Why the sudden change?
The elevator stopped on the 60th floor.
Top floor of KUG headquarters, inside the executive suite.
A staff member placed an envelope on the desk. “Young Master He, the operations department has been notified. I’ve also placed the photos on your desk.”
By the floor-to-ceiling window stood a man in a sharp suit, his figure calm and composed.
He held a cigarette between his fingers, slowly exhaling smoke. Then, he crushed it into a flowerpot on the sill before gesturing for the staff member to leave.
The room fell silent. The panoramic floor-to-ceiling window of the high-rise building offered a full view of the entire city. The bustling traffic below appeared like drifting ants through his eyes.
He Gu stretched out his wrist, adorned with a luxury watch, and carefully opened the envelope.
Inside was a stack of freshly developed photos. His cold fingertips flipped through them one by one—
The first photo showed Lin Jiang dragging his luggage as he arrived at OT. The shabby business sign in front clashed starkly with him, and not a single person came out to greet him.
The second photo captured Lin Jiang standing quietly on the balcony. The angle was a little blurry, but one could still see the wind tousling his short hair and a trace of loneliness hidden in his eyes.
The next several photos were all of Lin Jiang on that balcony. Sometimes he smiled at his teammates, but mostly he was lost in thought alone, staring into the distance as if weighed down by heavy worries.
The hand flipping through the photos paused slightly.
He had never seen such an expression on Lin Jiang’s face before. From the moment they met, Lin Jiang had always carried a tolerant smile.
The hand that had stopped now continued flipping through the photos and came across one of Lin Jiang smoking by the convenience store’s entrance. It was the first time he had ever seen Lin Jiang smoke. His thin frame looked fragile, coughing until the corners of his eyes reddened—yet he kept going.
He Gu clenched the photos tightly in his hand.
Then he pulled out his phone and scrolled to Lin Jiang’s private number.
Last time, Lin Jiang had clearly told him not to call again, and he’d promised he wouldn’t.
His finger hovered over the dial button. Weighing between his principles and Lin Jiang, he finally made the call.
‘Ring—Ring—’
He placed the remaining photos on the desk. As his sleeve accidentally brushed over them, a few photos slipped down—revealing images of Lin Jiang and a young man walking under the locust trees at night.
He Gu abruptly ended the call.
After the short, lingering dial tone, he bent down to pick up the photos that had fallen, flipping through them slowly, one by one.
In every frame, Lin Jiang looked at ease—his eyes brimming with laughter.
The young man behind him kept his gaze fixed on him. Even when all he could see was the back of Lin Jiang’s head, he never looked away.
That hand—elegant and cold beneath the watch—lifted the final photo.
In that photo, Shen Ju had accidentally bumped into Lin Jiang. His ears flushed red, and his eyes betrayed emotions he couldn’t hide.
He Gu stared at the image for a long time, unmoving.
His fingertips gradually grew colder.
Pulling his work phone from his pocket, he made a call. “Move tomorrow afternoon’s meetings. Yes, something came up. Work-related. I’ll let you know once it’s confirmed.”
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