WCG Chapter 83

Jiang Shi returned to the guest room, which had been tidied up for him. After a shower, he lay on the bed, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep.  

Maybe it wasn’t yet his usual bedtime, or perhaps too much had happened tonight for him to process.  

He opened his phone and searched online for sentencing information regarding extortion. He mentally calculated the possible outcome.  

Jiang Youcai was definitely going to serve a long sentence—ten years at the very least.  

That would be for the best. At least he wouldn’t be able to harm anyone else.  

Jiang Shi let out a long exhale, exited the search page, and habitually opened Weibo. He scrolled through his main account, where discussions about their upcoming match against ST were trending. Opinions were divided.  

He glanced at some nitpicking comments, ready to reply, but realized he was logged into his main account. Switching to his secondary account, he immediately saw his past Weibo posts.

All of them were related to Xie Xu.  

Jiang Shi lowered his gaze, shoved his phone under his pillow, and pulled the quilt over his head with a heavy sigh.  

He was truly shameless.  

From obsessing over a close-up of Xie Xu’s hands to relentlessly pursuing him, then disappearing after winning him over—now it was the same old pattern. No wonder Bamboo called him a scumbag.  

Even worse, his father had gone to Xie Xu’s home to extort money.  

Xie Xu had truly run into the worst luck of eight lifetimes by meeting him.  

Frustrated, Jiang Shi threw off the quilt, retrieved his phone, and decided to delete those Weibo posts. But just as his finger hovered over the “Delete” button, he hesitated.  

What was the point of deleting them? He couldn’t bear to erase Xie Xu from his life.  

As long as Xie Xu didn’t outright reject him, Jiang Shi wasn’t going to give up.  

He pursed his lips, subconsciously liking and bookmarking the posts, only to undo them immediately after.  

What had Xie Xu thought when he saw those posts? Anger at being played? Or had he completely moved on, indifferent to it all?  

Then there was today—his father causing trouble at Xie Xu’s house. The police car arriving had drawn the attention of many neighbors, and Jiang Youcai had even hurled profanities that were hard to stomach.  

Jiang Shi opened WeChat, wanting to message Xie Xu, but he didn’t know what to say.  

In the end, he reopened Weibo and, after a brief pause, changed his private account to public.  

Then he stared at the interface, refreshing it over and over.  

Three minutes later, his follower count rose from 0 to 1.  

[x7456315 has followed you. Start chatting now!]  

Looking at the ID, memories surfaced in Jiang Shi’s mind.  

“Why do you always use the default game ID? It’s so plain—I can’t even remember it.”  

“Too lazy to change it.”  

“It’s fine as long as I remember it.”  

This Weibo name was the game ID of his online ex-boyfriend. Clearly, Xie Xu hadn’t used his main Weibo account either.  

Jiang Shi clicked into their chat window. He typed and deleted multiple times but sent nothing.  

It was Xie Xu who broke the silence.  

[x7456315: How have you been this past year?]  

Jiang Shi froze for a moment, then, realizing something, rubbed his eyes and replied.  

[TTTT: Not bad. I joined a professional team. My teammates are great.]  

After sending this, he hesitated and added another message.  

[TTTT: Don’t you have anything to ask me? You can even scold me. I won’t talk back.]  

If it came to arguing, Xie Xu wouldn’t win against him anyway.  

Xie Xu looked at the message, his expression a mix of helplessness and amusement.  

[x7456315: I won’t scold you.]  

[x7456315: I just want to know if you’re doing well.]  

Jiang Shi stared at the message, his grip on the phone tightening slightly.  

[TTTT: Aren’t you angry that I disappeared without a word?]  

[x7456315: It’d be a lie to say I felt nothing. But more than that, I was worried, afraid something had happened to you.]  

After Jiang Shi had blocked him, Xie Xu had even considered reporting him missing. But later, he found Jiang Shi’s secondary account still active on Weibo, and his worry eased.  

[x7456315: I’m only messaging you now because I wanted to tell you in person—no one blames you.]  

[x7456315: Don’t blame yourself either.]  

[x7456315: It’s late. Get some rest. Goodnight.]  

Jiang Shi reread the messages over and over. The heaviness in his heart gradually dissipated, as if someone had lifted a mountain off his shoulders.  

He glanced at the window. Moonlight poured in, bright and serene.  

His phone vibrated, pulling his attention back.  

Despite saying goodnight, Xie Xu had liked every single post on his Weibo.  

Jiang Shi wasn’t sure if he had read the content.  

Rubbing his face, Jiang Shi sent out a new post.  

[TTTT: I can’t sleep.]

[TTTT:  Today’s been so frustrating.]  

Within a minute of posting, Jiang Shi received a WeChat message from Xie Xu.  

[Xu: Still awake?]  

Jiang Shi buried his face in his pillow, his ears turning red.  

He really showed up.  

[Obedient Jiangjiang: Asleep. Super tired.]  

The other side went silent for a full minute.  

[Xu: I made some honey water. Want some?]  

[Obedient Jiangjiang: No need. I didn’t drink much alcohol.]  

Xie Xu’s father only brought some alcohol to ease the atmosphere. Jiang Shi didn’t drink taht much.

Besides, it was late. With Xie Xu’s parents still in the house, sneaking into their son’s room in the middle of the night would be far too improper.  

[Xu: My door isn’t locked.]  

A minute later, faint, hesitant footsteps sounded outside Xie Xu’s door.  

The slightly ajar door was slowly pushed open.

Jiang Shi poked his head inside, only to bump right into Xie Xu, who was standing at the entrance.  

Jiang Shi: “…”

He straightened up, trying to act calm as he stepped into the room and coughed lightly. “Well, I suddenly felt a bit dizzy and thought it’d be better to sober up. I don’t want Yang-ge to notice tomorrow.”  

His words sounded righteous, but Xie Xu didn’t hand him honey water. Instead, he glanced behind Jiang Shi.  

Jiang Shi’s heart skipped a beat. He quickly turned around, speaking at lightning speed. “Uncle, Auntie, I’m just here for honey water—nothing else—”  

He didn’t get to finish because the space behind him was empty.  

Jiang Shi: “?” 

Xie Xu covered his mouth, stifling a laugh. “I didn’t say anyone was there. I just wanted you to close the door.”  

Blushing furiously, Jiang Shi shut the door in a hurry, but not without stiffly reiterating, “It doesn’t matter if they hear. I’m really just here for honey water.”  

“The glass is already poured,” Xie Xu said, handing him a cup. “Drink it here.”  

Jiang Shi took the cup and asked, “Can I take it with me and return it to you tomorrow?”  

He had overestimated his ability to remain composed in front of Xie Xu. Just earlier, he was chatting with Xie Xu, cloaked in the guise of an ex-boyfriend, and now here he was, boldly stepping into his room. Jiang Shi felt completely out of sorts.  

“I had some alcohol too,” Xie Xu explained. “After you finish, I’ll need the cup to drink as well.”  

Then he pulled out a nearby chair and gestured for Jiang Shi to sit.  

Jiang Shi glanced at the large glass jar filled with honey water and knew he couldn’t ask Xie Xu to drink directly from the jar. Reluctantly, he shuffled over and sat down.  

He sipped slowly. 

If he hadn’t eaten so much earlier in the evening, he would’ve downed the honey water in one gulp.  

As Jiang Shi drank at an excruciatingly slow pace, the sound of drawers opening and closing came from behind him. Before he could turn to see what Xie Xu was doing, a small medical kit appeared on the table next to him.  

“Let me see your right hand,” Xie Xu said.  

Jiang Shi switched the cup to his left hand, puzzled, and held out his right palm.  

Under the light, a shallow cut was visible in his fair palm, with dried blood marking the edges.  

It must’ve happened when he gripped the broken porcelain earlier, just before coming upstairs. No wonder his hand had stung while washing up.  

Without a word, Xie Xu gently took Jiang Shi’s fingertips and disinfected the wound with alcohol.  

Compared to the burning sting of the alcohol, Jiang Shi was far more preoccupied with the sensation of Xie Xu holding his hand.  

Why are Xie Xu’s hands always so cold? Is he frail or something?  

When Xie Xu looked up, Jiang Shi hastily took a sip of honey water to cover his flustered expression.  

Xie Xu: “If it hurts, let me know.”

Jiang Shi swallowed and replied nonchalantly, “This little cut is nothing. Captain, you don’t have to be so careful.”  

He had endured much worse when working at the courier station — blisters on his hands even while wearing gloves, which still affected his gameplay during livestreams. He had no choice but to pierce the blisters with a needle and apply ointment, a pain far worse than this.  

Xie Xu paused briefly at Jiang Shi’s words but continued tending to the wound with a gentle touch. “Bamboo told me you used to work at a courier station.”  

“Yeah, I wasn’t even of legal age at the time. Most places wouldn’t hire me, and some places used my incomplete paperwork as an excuse to withhold pay after I finished the job.” Jiang Shi set the half-empty honey water on the table. “Eventually, I found a better job at a stable courier station, but Jiang Youcai ruined that too.”  

Jiang Youcai had caused trouble at the station every day, disrupting the work environment. In the end, Jiang Shi had to quit and even got into a fight with him at an internet café.  

Jiang Shi spoke of these past events with a calm voice, his posture relaxed and casual as he rested his feet on the horizontal bar of the chair.  

Jiang Youcai was Jiang Youcai. Jiang Shi was his own person.  

Apart from feeling guilty about his ex-boyfriend, Jiang Shi hadn’t done anything shameful.  

“When I wasn’t old enough to work, and my livestream income was low, I’d often go to promotional exhibitions just to snag free snacks.”  

On exhibition days, he finally had the chance to eat his fill. He even wished there could be an exhibition every day nearby.  

Xie Xu put away the alcohol wipes and casually asked, “Did TLG hold any exhibitions back then?”  

“Yeah, I asked Yang-ge about it.” Jiang Shi puffed out his cheeks and blew on his palm, which now felt cool from the evaporating alcohol. “But TLG’s exhibitions were all held in big malls. The security guards wouldn’t let me in, so I probably never made it to one.”  

His clothes were too shabby, and the mall security said he would affect the customer experience.  

Jiang Shi thought of something and smiled cheekily at Xie Xu. “Let me tell you, back then I ran into a bunch of scammers and even traffickers, but none of them could fool me.”  

“Oh, and don’t get me started on the idiots in my livestream chat.”  

“If TLG hosts another exhibition in the future, you should hold it outdoors! That way, if someone comes to snag food, I can even give a free lecture on fraud prevention.”  

He’d certainly earned enough experience to do so.  

Xie Xu responded with a simple “Okay.”  

He looked down at the bloodstained cotton swab in his hand and snapped it in half before tossing it into the trash can. “Was what Jiang Youcai mentioned about ‘selling you’ something like that?”  

“That was when I was even younger.” Jiang Shi thought back. “He always thought I was a burden and tried to sell me, but he didn’t know the right people. Even acquaintances wouldn’t dare to take me in. He got arrested once for it, so he stayed quiet after that.”  

“Oh, there was one time someone almost took me, but Jiang Youcai thought they were offering too little, so it didn’t happen.”  

Jiang Shi spoke lightly, as if recounting an amusing story.  

But when he finished, Xie Xu called his name, “Jiang Shi.”  

Hearing Xie Xu’s slightly hoarse voice, Jiang Shi thought he must be thirsty and handed him the cup of honey water. Just as he reached out, he was pulled into an embrace.  

Only then did Jiang Shi realize Xie Xu wasn’t thirsty — he was feeling sorry for him. Jiang Shi patted Xie Xu on the back and reassured him, “Captain, I’m really fine.”  

It was all in the past, and he was doing well now.  

Xie Xu hadn’t expected Jiang Shi to comfort him instead. After ruffling Jiang Shi’s hair roughly, he adjusted his expression and let him go.  

Jiang Shi took the opportunity to hand over the honey water, but Xie Xu didn’t accept it. “No leftovers,” he said.  

Otherwise, Jiang Shi would get thirsty at night.  

Jiang Shi rubbed his stomach. “I’ll need to rest a bit first.”  

He really was feeling stuffed.  

As he walked around Xie Xu’s room under the pretense of aiding digestion, Jiang Shi took the opportunity to survey the space.  

There wasn’t much furniture, but it was organized and cozy.  

What caught Jiang Shi’s attention the most was the row of bookshelves near the door. They were filled not only with books but also with various models and competition trophies.  

It was a tangible showcase of what it meant to win championships until one’s hands were full.  

After admiring the trophies, Jiang Shi’s gaze fell on a partially opened cardboard box on the top shelf. It stood out from the neatly arranged surroundings, as if hastily hidden.  

Thanks to his sharp eyesight, Jiang Shi immediately noticed the words on the bottom of the box–

Set of 2 Mugs.  

But Xie Xu had said earlier there was only one cup!  

Driven by curiosity, Jiang Shi instinctively reached out to confirm whether the box was empty. But in doing so, he forgot about the chair he had moved earlier, tripped over its leg, and barely managed to withdraw his arm before it could knock over a row of trophies.  

Luckily, a hand caught his waist in time, pulling him back. However, the momentum caused Jiang Shi to stumble against the wall behind him.  

With a soft “click,” the light switch on the wall was pressed, plunging the room into darkness.  

In the ensuing chaos, Jiang Shi stepped on Xie Xu’s feet several times, eliciting multiple sharp intakes of breath from the latter—each one alarmingly close to his ear.  

Out of reflex, Jiang Shi turned his head to check on Xie Xu, only for his lips to brush against warm skin.  

Xie Xu stopped breathing.  

And Jiang Shi forgot how to.  

But the sound of someone swallowing nervously was all too clear in the dark.  

“Captain,” Jiang Shi stammered, his voice trembling. “I think I just kissed the wall.”  

“Do I need to apologize to the wall?”  

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Xie Xu replied after a pause. “Because what you kissed was my chin.”  

In the dim light, Jiang Shi could vaguely sense Xie Xu turning his head toward him. Their breaths intertwined, growing heavier.  

Which meant, if Jiang Shi moved closer like before…  

The mere thought of it turned Jiang Shi’s face bright red, and he couldn’t stop himself from swallowing again.  

The tension in the room grew thicker.  

As Jiang Shi’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out Xie Xu’s face. His expression was deep and intense, and the arm around Jiang Shi’s waist made its presence unmistakably clear—completely at odds with his gentle tone, radiating a subtle pressure.

It made Jiang Shi’s heart skip a beat.  

He tilted his head back and saw Xie Xu gazing down at him.  

Under the cover of night, and with Xie Xu’s indulgence, Jiang Shi found himself bewitched and started leaning in again.  

But before he could succeed, faint footsteps echoed outside the room, followed by Xie Xu’s mother’s gentle voice: “Xie Xu, are you still awake?”  

Jiang Shi froze mid-action.  

Was the noise from earlier too loud?  

Just as Jiang Shi debated whether to step out and confess, Xie Xu put his hand to cover Jiang Shi’s eyes, lowered his head, and kissed him on the lips.

“I’ll be sleeping soon.”