By Zephyria 
The club’s air stood still for over ten seconds.
All movement froze.
Players in the middle of team battles removed their headphones, some slowly standing up. The vast training hall seemed to pause in time. Red Hair’s coffee cup slipped from his grasp, hitting the floor with a crisp shatter.
The door closed again.
The vibrations of sound gradually faded into utter silence.
…
Jing Mian stood rooted in place.
It took him a long time to snap out of it.
Eventually, one of the teammates managed to tear their gaze away. He looked around at the others, their faces filled with confusion and bewilderment as they exchanged glances:
“Did I… hear that right just now?”
“Did the captain say… Ash?”
“I think I heard that ID too.”
The verbal message Xuan Cheng left behind was more unbelievable than anything they’d ever heard before. So instead of excitement or shock, the members’ first reaction was to question its authenticity—even wondering if they’d misheard.
“No way, we… we must’ve heard wrong…”
“Let’s text the captain and ask.”
“Definitely misheard. If it’s the Ash we’re thinking of, would the captain announce it so casually like that?”
Red Hair, gnawing on a popsicle, didn’t stop typing: “Not necessarily. Our captain’s kind of a bastard.”
Late at night.
The club’s training room lights turned off on schedule.
The players slung their backpacks over their shoulders and walked out of the base together, their shadows stretching long under the night sky. Someone stared at their phone, brows furrowed unconsciously: “The captain still hasn’t replied.”
“Don’t bother asking. It can’t be that Ash.”
“Think about it—the only player with that ID quit six years ago.”
Red Hair swallowed dryly, pointing upward with a shaky finger. “That god ranked first on the PK leaderboard… how could he have founded our club years ago?”
“He’s… Glory’s legend.”
“But what if it is him?”
“Didn’t Xuan Cheng hint before that Ash had some connection to the Team?”
“God, it can’t be real, can it? I’ve been his fan for seven years—”
“Hey, don’t overthink it.”
“Let’s just get some rest.”
“Whether it’s true or not, we’ll find out tomorrow night.”
……
Jing Mian stared ahead, swallowing hard.
A message popped up on his phone—Mr. Ren had arrived, parked in the usual spot, the first turn along the street after leaving the club.
The silent young man lowered his gaze.
He looked at his hands. Even though they had relaxed after the intense training, they still trembled slightly.
Was he… overreacting?
Jing Mian knew he hadn’t misheard.
Xuan Cheng had indeed said “Ash.”
How could Ash have been the one to originally establish ME?
Jing Mian’s thoughts were a tangled mess.
The last time Glory’s system-wide announcement echoed across the server, Ash’s sudden login had caught everyone off guard—not just Jing Mian, but every player in Glory. Even now, whenever they recalled it, their hearts still raced with excitement.
Jing Mian sometimes felt he wasn’t cut out for these kinds of surprises.
He thought, even if things spiraled out of control, even if the outcome was beyond expectations—at least give him some warning.
But now that the warning had truly been given, those uncontrollable emotions from back then hadn’t diminished in the slightest. His blood still surged and boiled, washing over all his remaining senses.
In this light, it only served to increase his unease for no reason.
Unease to the point where he could no longer focus his mind.
After all the twists and turns, he had actually joined the Team founded by Ash.
No fact could be more exhilarating than this.
Jing Mian was picked up by his Husband and taken back to the villa. After showering, the lazy young man sat by the bed, letting the man dry his hair for him.
Jing Mian narrowed his eyes comfortably, but then his fingers suddenly curled. As if remembering something, he tilted his head: “Husband.”
“Hmm?”
“There’s a gathering tomorrow at seven in the evening.” The youth looked up, his Husband’s face upside down in his vision: “I’ll be home late.”
The fingers combing through his hair paused slightly. The warm air from the dryer whooshed as his Husband asked, voice unchanged: “What gathering?”
“To meet the original founder of the Team. It’s at Lin Shui KTV.”
“Founder?”
“Yeah.”
Jing Mian’s warm fingertips interlaced. He lowered his gaze, throat somewhat dry: “…He’s my idol.”
Perhaps… more than just an idol.
He still remembered how difficult most days had been after Brother left. In the lightless abyss, no one washed away the dust for him. But even those who didn’t want to live would instinctively seek salvation.
People always need a reason to keep living.
Ash was the occasional beam of light that pierced through his darkest days.
The one who pulled him out of the abyss.
The faith that had sustained him through countless years.
What Ash meant to him might be even more than this. From beginning to end, the other was just a string of letters, a line of barren code, rows upon rows of battle records stamped onto the PK rankings.
Yet it was rich enough to sustain the youth through those difficult times.
Late at night.
Jing Mian stared at the ceiling. The long lost habit of insomnia had quietly returned as promised.
Couldn’t sleep.
Absolutely couldn’t sleep.
Groping for his charging phone, the sudden brightness made his lashes tremble. After adjusting to the light, he found Xuan Cheng in his contacts.
Cool fingertips touched the keys as the youth hesitated, typing out a message:
[Brother Xuan Cheng]
…
[Is he Ash?]
Just a few short words, without any additional explanation, yet both parties knew exactly what this meant.
Though he knew Xuan Cheng hadn’t replied to any members today, perhaps out of a desire to try, Jing Mian asked the question that had kept him tossing and turning.
Waiting for the reply stretched time unbearably long.
Listening to the distant ticking of the clock, the tension in his heart grew. Despite the comfortable temperature, sweat beaded on his forehead while his fingertips turned cold.
Soon, the phone vibrated once.
Heart pounding, Jing Mian picked it up.
Xuan Cheng’s reply:
[Yes.]
Jing Mian gripped the phone, lips pressed together, suddenly feeling lightheaded with vertigo.
The youth unconsciously set down the phone, breath held, frozen for a long time.
Great.
Now he really couldn’t sleep.
The next day.
This tense state persisted until returning to school.
Jing Mian bought breakfast at the cafeteria, stared blankly at textbooks in the library, napped on the desk during lunch break, and called his Husband before exams.
Following the crowd into the exam hall, at exactly five in the evening, Jing Mian put down his pen, concluding the final professional course exam of the semester.
The day had proceeded smoothly and methodically.
Yet now, only two hours remained before the scheduled KTV meet-up.
“Not to complain, but that exam was brutal, right?”
“Tell me about it. My exam room was freezing, I was wearing a down jacket and still couldn’t feel my fingers while writing.”
“Glad to hear you all struggled too.”
“The key points were detailed, but the questions were set at such tricky angles.”
Roommate #1, Li Dong, asked Jing Mian, “MianMian, how’d you feel? Think you passed?”
Jing Mian hesitated slightly. Recalling his performance during the exam, he answered objectively, “If I pass, it’ll be by the skin of my teeth.”
Roommate #2, Jiang Chen, looked utterly defeated. “We’re doomed if even MianMian found it hard.”
The end of the last exam meant students could start heading home. His roommates had booked train tickets for that evening, and before leaving, they shared a farewell meal to mark the start of winter break.
Jing Mian checked his watch.
—18:20.
It was time to go.
Settling into the taxi, Jing Mian’s nervousness hadn’t eased in the slightest.
Watching the cityscape slide past, frame by frame in reverse, an inexplicable urge to retreat suddenly surged in his chest.
Looking at it another way, even if he possessed Ash’s Shadow Guard, even if Ash had suddenly logged back in a few months ago, even if they’d briefly crossed paths in the PK tournament, none of it meant they had to meet in real life.
Should he just go back?
If the team leader asked, he could say he was sick or that something came up at school.
…
No. Ash had been his boss from the very beginning.
They were bound to meet eventually.
Jing Mian’s palms were icy.
His fingertips trembled uncontrollably again.
There was no need to flee at the last moment.
He was overreacting.
It was just a legendary player he’d never met before. The person he was about to see was merely the one who had been his faith for the past five years, the top-ranked player behind the Shadow Guard he’d fought tooth and nail to obtain.
Defeated, Jing Mian leaned against the car window, his reflection on the glass mirroring his racing heartbeat.
…
What should he do?
He was going to die from nerves.
Night gradually descended, and the city lit up with countless lights.
The taxi reached the overpass connecting to the main road, where traffic had been smooth at first. But gradually, the car slowed to a crawl.
Soon, all vehicles on the bridge were packed tightly together, inching forward at a snail’s pace.
The line of cars ahead stretched endlessly. The driver honked the horn and sighed. “Traffic jam.”
Jing Mian blinked. “At this hour?”
The driver replied, “Not quite rush hour, so it’s usually fine. Must be an accident or fender bender up ahead. Only our side’s blocked—gotta wait for the cops.”
Jing Mian checked the time on his phone: 18:45.
Fifteen minutes. The remaining distance was too far, even walking wouldn’t get him there in time.
All he could do was wait.
During this time, an undercurrent of anxiety simmered within him, growing fiercer by the minute.
By the time the overpass finally cleared and traffic resumed its massive flow, he was already five minutes late for the original meeting time.
Jing Mian had texted Xuan Cheng in advance. He felt a faint sense of relief that this was a team-wide gathering rather than a one-on-one meet-up. Even if he arrived late, it wouldn’t disrupt the entire event.
Stepping out of the taxi, Jing Mian immediately spotted the glowing logo of Linshui KTV.
Located at the end of the commercial street, its neon sign was strikingly bright. The KTV was incredibly popular, situated near a school, with multiple floors, lavish decor, and a great atmosphere inside.
Jing Mian entered the lobby and, following the directions, approached the front desk. The staff member asked the young man, “Do you have a reservation or are you opening a new room?”
“Reservation. It should have started by now.” Jing Mian referred to the private room number shared in the group chat and said, “K2034.”
“Got it.” The staff member checked the system and then handed Jing Mian a token. “Here’s your coin. Please keep it safe.”
The young man lowered his gaze and noticed the coin was an extravagant black and gold, distinctly different from ordinary coins. The numbers on it gleamed brightly, 2034.
He faintly recalled He Jing mentioning that this KTV was unique. Whether booking a new room or reserving one, unlike typical KTVs, the staff would provide customers with a coin corresponding to their room number in advance.
When the session ended, everyone would return the coin to the front desk upon leaving.
If all coins were accounted for, the front desk would record it under the customer’s phone number. Collecting ten such records would earn them a free large room session.
Holding the coin, Jing Mian headed straight for the second floor.
Linshui KTV was one of the largest in the city. Despite the excellent soundproofing, occasional unlatched doors allowed snippets of music to escape, blending into the lively clamor outside each room. As he walked, Jing Mian glanced up, matching the room numbers.
But after a while, he silently turned back.
The further he walked, the smaller the numbers became, far from the one on his coin.
He must have gone the wrong way.
Not only was the first floor expansive, but the second floor also had numerous intersecting corridors. The numbering sequence would break and then resume, with a few standalone medium-sized rooms tucked away at the ends of the hallways, making them harder to find.
Finally, at the third turn, the young man found the sequence matching his coin.
The deeper he went, the closer he got to his assigned number.
This was it.
Jing Mian took a quiet breath.
Just as he was about to proceed, the door of a nearby room suddenly swung open.
A group of stylish young people emerged, chatting and laughing, clearly reluctant to leave. The soft, scattered light from inside the room illuminated Jing Mian’s pupils.
The guy at the front turned back, looking excited, urging the others to hurry so they wouldn’t miss their movie screening.
The long-haired girl at the end quickened her pace, laughing as she called out, “Got it, wait for us!”
Despite sidestepping to avoid the group, their paths still crossed, and the girl’s backpack brushed against Jing Mian’s slightly raised right hand.
“!”
The next moment, the coin slipped free.
It tumbled from the young man’s grasp.
The round metal lost all support, wobbling as it fell toward the ground.
In that instant, the edges of the coin spun, its golden surfaces flashing brilliantly.
Jing Mian froze, surprise flickering in his eyes. He stepped forward, his gaze following the coin as it rolled away.
Until it came to a stop at someone’s feet.
The escaping metal edge bumped against the tip of a shoe, the insurmountable resistance bringing it to an abrupt halt.
Clink—
The faint sound reached his ears.
At that moment, Jing Mian instinctively looked up.
His heart suddenly pounded violently.