After leaving KUG, Lin Jiang checked a lot of information and finally confirmed that he had truly gone back to four years ago.
There was no time to celebrate. He immediately threw himself into career planning.
This year’s final transfer window was about to close, and the team’s roster was mostly finalized. Don’t even talk about strong teams; even weak teams wouldn’t replace their mid laner at this stage.
His best option now was to quietly wait for next year’s transfer window to open, when he could sign with a better team based on his past achievements.
But what he feared most was KUG stabbing him in the back, just like before, manipulating public opinion and trapping him in a situation where he’d be left without any matches to play.
Lin Jiang crossed out a few more teams in his notebook. Only three remained—all bottom-tier teams that no one was interested in joining.
His phone suddenly vibrated. It was his personal number, known only to a handful of close friends.
Lin Jiang answered right away. “Hey, any news?”
On the other end of the line was Old Mao, one of Lin Jiang’s closest friends in the circle. A retired professional player turned big-time streamer, Old Mao had excellent connections in the industry. He was the one who had introduced Lin Jiang to KUG years ago.
Old Mao said, “Forget about DTG. Their mid laner is a permanent fixture—no matter how badly he plays, they won’t replace him.”
Lin Jiang crossed out another team. “What about VT then?”
“That team is beyond saving. Even if a god joined, they still wouldn’t be able to carry them. If you join VT, you might as well just lie down and wait for next year’s transfer window to find a better team…”
Lin Jiang crossed out another team. Now, only one team remained: OT.
He had some impression of this team. Last year, they managed to climb to the upper ranks and faced top-tier teams. But in this year’s Spring Split, they quickly plummeted to the bottom, just above the completely hopeless VT.
Lin Jiang casually asked, “What about OT?”
“OT?” Old Mao suddenly recalled. “Oh, right. OT’s mid laner left. Their manager was crying to me about it just the other day.”
“Left?”
“Left after Spring Split ended. The team’s ranking was so despairingly bad that the mid laner found a new team and left right away. Their contracts are super lax, renewed annually with low salaries. It’s ridiculously easy to leave—no penalty for breaching the contract… Damn, talking about this team leaves me speechless. Their AD is a toxic trash-talker.[mfn]死喷子 (sǐ pēn zi) – big mouth, trash talker or sprayer; a derogatory term used for someone who talks excessively, often in a negative or argumentative way; internet troll or hater[/mfn] I was arguing with him on my stream just yesterday…”
Lin Jiang still vaguely remembered this team.
Their AD was incredibly strong. In last year’s AD-dominant meta, he single-handedly carried[mfn]一神带四坑 (yī shén dài sì kēng) – One god carrying four pits; refers to the rest of the team being weak or underperforming[/mfn] his four teammates, dragging an otherwise mediocre team into the upper ranks, and almost securing the final Worlds spot in the Regional Qualifier.
Unfortunately, his teammates were just too weak. Once the meta shifted and ADs were nerfed, OT’s weaknesses were exposed, and their ranking sinked to the very bottom.
Lin Jiang thought for a moment, then asked. “What do you think about me joining OT?”
Old Mao fell silent for a moment before suddenly shouting, “Lin Jiang, have you lost your mind?! OT finished last in the Spring Split, and they might get relegated in the Summer Split. You’re throwing away a bright future by joining them! Do you even know what state they’re in right now? Their top laner can’t win a single matchup, their jungler just wanders around, and their AD is a toxic troll. What the hell are you going there for?!”
For the Lin Jiang of the past, joining OT might have seemed crazy. But for the Lin Jiang who had spent three years warming the bench, nothing mattered more than stepping back onto the stage to play a single match.
He held his phone away, waiting for Old Mao’s tirade to subside.
“Their support plays with incredible depth. The AD’s temper is a bit big[mfn]脾气是大了点 (píqì shì dà le diǎn) – easily irritated or quick to anger[/mfn], but he’s a rookie. It’s normal for new players to be hot-headed.”
“Most importantly, I’m a little tempted[mfn]亿点心动 (yì diǎn xīndòng) – lit. a billion points of temptation; is a hyperbolic way to describe feeling somewhat intrigued or interested[/mfn] by OT’s contract. Does the yearly renewal actually exist?”
“Lin Jiang—!” Old Mao was about to go crazy. He roared, “Where the hell are you right now? I’ll come find you! You absolutely cannot go to OT! I’ll get you a team a thousand times better than them, you hear me?”
Lin Jiang muttered, “I hear you,” while secretly researching the team.
Not long after hanging up, his phone buzzed again, displaying the caller ID “Brother Yu.” He is an active LPL player in the support role, known for his excellent connections in the field.
Brother Yu called to ask: “I heard from Old Mao you’re planning to join OT? Don’t do it. Why don’t you come to our team and play on rotation? We might not be as famous as KUG, but we can definitely offer you more than OT. Think about it—OT really is a terrible choice. Their AD is a national server troll who got his account banned just yesterday after fighting with Old Mao on livestream…”
Lin Jiang now had PTSD whenever he heard the word “rotation.” “No, don’t worry about me. And tell Old Mao to stop stressing over this, too.”
Brother Yu sighed. “Don’t blame Old Mao for overreacting. OT really isn’t a good option. With your current form, you should be aiming for a team that can compete at Worlds. Honestly, even inviting you to our team now would feel like wasting your talent.”
Lin Jiang knew they meant well. “Hmm, I know. I’ll think about it some more.”
After hanging up the phone, Lin Jiang genuinely took time to reflect. He even asked around online, and to his surprise, almost everyone warned him against OT, as if they were some kind of colossal trap.
But…
Lin Jiang glanced down at his notebook, its pages littered with chaotic scribbles.
None of what they’d said mattered to him. All he wanted was to play. The more he learned about OT, the more he couldn’t help but feel strangely drawn to them. What was he supposed to do about that?
Forget it. He’d figure it out tomorrow.
***
After taking a shower, he lay on the empty hotel bed, wondering what his next move would be.
Back in the day, he had ruled the canyon as an assassin, single-handedly pioneering the infamous “Three-Dagger Build,” a playstyle that struck fear[mfn]闻风丧胆 (wén fēng sàng dǎn) – hear the wind and lose gall; an idiom meaning to be scared stiff or terrified just by hearing something[/mfn] into every AD in the circle. Later, there was a massive shift in the meta, turning the mid lane from a carry role into a utility one.
He had no choice but to adapt his playstyle to fit the team, merely coasting along. By the time the assassin-dominant meta returned, the relentless criticism had already planted seeds of doubt in him, eroding his confidence.
Tonight was bound to be a sleepless night. Lin Jiang lit a cigarette and was choked by the cold wind, coughing uncomfortably.
His reborn body wasn’t used to smoking yet. As his phone began vibrating, Lin Jiang casually stubbed out the cigarette in his hand: “Yeah?”
Old Mao’s voice was a bit angry: “Why aren’t you at KUG? I barged in looking for you, only to find Alike there, acting all high and mighty like he owns the place.”
“… Damn, is KUG sick? They already have you, so why sign Alike? It’s obvious they’re trying to push you out. And why wait this long to announce it? Why drag it out until you have no team left to go to…”
Lin Jiang didn’t care anymore. “Forget it. Old Mao, don’t worry about me. I’ll handle it myself. You just focus on your livestream.”
Old Mao sounded upset. He talked to him for a long time, and when they finally hung up, he gave Lin Jiang a few forceful words of encouragement. “No matter where you go, you’ll shine. Trust me!”
“Mm.”
Lin Jiang hung up the phone, and stared at the cigarette that had already burned out in his hand. He suddenly laughed at himself.
If it were the Lin Jiang of the past, he would have said with unwavering confidence, “Even if every player in the world loses their jobs, I would never lose mine.”
Now, Lin Jiang couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of helplessness, as if he were destined to be a loser…
The night stretched on endlessly. Lin Jiang stayed awake the whole time. He pulled out his notebook and re-planned everything. Everyone said he had limitless potential, but in reality, aside from OT, he had nowhere else to go.
After a long period of contemplation, he finally made a bold decision. As morning light filtered through, he sent off a self-recommendation letter to OT’s manager.
But there was no response.
Lin Jiang thought the other party didn’t receive it, so he very carefully printed out his resume, put on his backpack, took a taxi to OT, and solemnly handed his resume to the front desk.
“Hello, I’m Lin Jiang, former mid laner for KUG. I’m here to apply for the mid lane position at OT. Please kindly pass this to Manager Du. Thank you.”
***
When OT’s manager received the email, he thought it was a prank.
At that time, he was playing flex queue with some friends, and casually complained: “People will do anything these days. Someone actually faked a job application from river saying they wanted to come for an interview at OT? Can’t people just stop doing this kind of thing, bro? My life is also precious…”[mfn]我的命也是命 (wǒ de mìng yě shì mìng) – my life is also precious; a slang often used humorously or self-deprecatingly, highlighting the absurdity of the situation[/mfn]
Everyone in the team burst out laughing, “That’s ridiculous.”
“Why not just say he’s Emperor Qin Shi Huang[mfn]秦始皇 (Qín Shǐ huáng) – Emperor Qin Shi Huang is the first emperor of China, often used humorously or sarcastically to exaggerate someone’s importance or status to an absurd level; overhyped[/mfn] while they’re at it…”
At first, no one took it seriously—until another friend joined the queue with explosive news: “Holy shit, brothers, you guys aren’t streaming, right? Let me tell you an absolutely shocking gossip. I just got word that river left his team last week, and now he’s asking Old Mao to help find him a new one. Anyone got an opening? Snatch him up quick!”
Someone in the voice chat took a sharp breath, “Old Du, could that application really be from river?”
Du Lun was stunned. The [Ashe] he was controlling made a positioning mistake and was instantly killed by the opponent.
Just then, his phone lit up with a message from the front desk: [Manager Du, a player named Lin Jiang is here for an interview for the mid lane position. He’d like to meet with you, would you like to see him?]
In the blink of an eye, Du Lun’s brain cells operated at an unprecedented speed. He leapt up and called the front desk’s phone, shouting, “Keep him! Keep him! Don’t let him leave! I’Il be there in ten minutes!”
After speaking, he grabbed his coat and rushed out like the wind.
The four teammates in the game: ???
“Fuck, Old Du, are you fucking trolling us?”
“Ahhh, what kind of dog is Old Du?”
“I just came in and you’re AFK?”
“Report! Report! Must report!”
— — — —
