For Li Baixi, the match was enjoyable.

Even if both teams had played poorly, being able to watch with the great Cheng Ping would have made the ticket worth it. Moreover, Cheng Ping’s former team, knowing it was the last match of the season, played with great effort.

Li Baixi anticipated that the audience would talk about Cheng Ping, and indeed, he was right. Hidden among the crowd, they frequently heard Cheng Ping’s name mentioned from all directions, mostly in a nostalgic tone.

Li Baixi secretly observed Cheng Ping’s expression but saw that he merely pursed his lips and kept his eyes fixed on the match.

In the end, Cheng Ping’s former team narrowly won. When the crowd stood and cheered, Li Baixi, feeling a rush of student nostalgia, couldn’t help but jump along.

He turned to look and found Cheng Ping still sitting quietly, tears glistening in his disguised eyes.

After the event, seeing Cheng Ping still emotional, Li Baixi decided to take him to a nearby bar to drown his sorrows.

“Although they didn’t win the championship, this ranking is still pretty good,” Li Baixi started.

Cheng Ping responded, “Yeah, especially since they just went through a roster change.”

Li Baixi offered timely flattery, “If they hadn’t replaced you, who knows, maybe they’d have won another championship.”

Cheng Ping downed his drink, “Not necessarily. We were all in a slump back then, and I was getting older. Even if they hadn’t replaced me, I would have retired after that season.”

This was news to Li Baixi, “You were planning to retire anyway…?”

“Yeah,” Cheng Ping gave a bitter smile, “I was ready to leave, but not in that way.”

Li Baixi recalled the rumor about Cheng Ping’s retirement: he had supposedly stolen the captain’s girlfriend and was ousted out of spite. What should have been a glorious exit turned into a mid-season cut-off, a scenario that would leave anyone bitter.

Having known Cheng Ping for so long, Li Baixi found it hard to imagine him cheating on someone. But now wasn’t the time to dig into gossip.

Li Baixi opted for a more general comforting approach, “Hey, it’s easy to start things well, but ending them well is the hard part. But fans have clear eyes, you heard them today. Keeping an open mind is important…”

“I know,” Cheng Ping whispered, “I just have some regrets.”

Whatever he regretted, he didn’t elaborate.

Li Baixi, sensing it was best not to pry, continued generally, “Youth is made up of regrets.”

Cheng Ping remained silent.

He seemed suddenly very agitated, impatiently touching his fake mustache, “This thing seems to be coming off. I’ll go to the bathroom and take it off.”

In the bathroom, Cheng Ping removed the loose mustache. The braids pulling his scalp were uncomfortable, and the nasal prosthesis was starting to hurt. He decided to take everything off and wash his face with cold water.

As he looked up, he saw a familiar figure approaching in the mirror.

His first reaction was to run, hiding in the men’s room.

But it was too late; the other person had already seen him and called out, “Xiao Cheng?”

Cheng Ping stopped, slowly turning to face his former team captain.

The captain seemed to have been drinking too, his ears red, the color draining from his face, “What are you doing here?”

Cheng Ping looked down at his shoes, “Drinking with a friend. You?”

“Team celebration.”

The two stood in awkward silence.

Seeing Cheng Ping again after six months, the captain felt a mix of emotions.

Becoming a celebrity really made a difference; he looked even thinner and more refined.

This was the kid he had mentored from the start.

The captain was a few years younger but much more experienced. When Cheng Ping, a strange dropout from a film school, was assigned to him, he had to mentor him.

A lifelong single esports nerd, the captain was initially resentful of having a handsome guy around. But after a while, with Cheng Ping following him loyally, he started to appreciate it.

Cheng Ping’s talent soon dispelled any prejudice from the team. Those were good days; they became a well-matched duo. Cheng Ping, protecting him aggressively in-game, was like a fierce guard dog.

But success didn’t last, and as the team’s performance declined, the pressure mounted.

The captain felt he was giving his all in each match, but the results were disappointing. Every failure had a different cause, and he couldn’t pinpoint a single scapegoat.

The dissatisfaction from above and the fans’ anger weighed heavily on him.

Then, Cheng Ping gave him a reason.

After a drunken night, he dragged a drunken Cheng Ping back to the dorms. In the dark room, Cheng Ping confessed his love with a trembling voice.

He didn’t remember his response.

But from that day, being near Cheng Ping made him uncomfortable.

This discomfort extended to the game. He couldn’t communicate or sync with Cheng Ping’s rhythm anymore. Even hearing Cheng Ping’s silent breathing in his headset made his scalp tingle.

Finally, he reported to the higher-ups, stating that only one of them could stay.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. The team needed a change to give fans and players new hope.

Cheng Ping was indeed in poor form, while the captain was still at his peak and indispensable.

The choice was clear.

Cheng Ping left, a newcomer joined. After a period of fluctuation, the team regained its rhythm, ending the season with hope. And Cheng Ping? He became a star, didn’t he?

The captain felt justified until he saw Cheng Ping now, realizing he felt guilty.

But why? He did nothing wrong. Cheng Ping made a crucial mistake, disturbing him at a critical time and dragging down the team.

The captain steadied himself, smiling, “Did you watch our match?”

Cheng Ping nodded, “Congratulations, you played well.”

“Thanks,” the captain maintained his poise, “Let’s both do our best from now on.”

Hearing no response from Cheng Ping, he shrugged and went into the men’s room.

When he came out, Cheng Ping was still there.

The captain frowned, “Anything else?”

Cheng Ping stood rigidly, blurting out like a recitation, “I’ve thought about this for a long time. I think you misunderstood me, and it’s my fault for not expressing myself well. After you rejected me, I gave up the idea. I just wanted to work with you to improve our performance. It’s too late to say this now, but I hope you don’t hold that impression of me…”

Cheng Ping’s heartfelt speech hit the captain’s sore spot.

The captain’s face turned cold, “So what? You came here to accuse me?”

Cheng Ping was stunned, “What?”

“You may have disturbed me, harassed me, and shaken the team’s morale, but you were pure-hearted, only for the team, while I was ruthless in driving you away—is that it?”

Cheng Ping panicked, “No! And I didn’t harass…”

“But the team’s performance after the roster change proves my decision was right. No one can blame me.”

Cheng Ping felt blood rushing to his head, unable to argue properly, stammering, “I wasn’t complaining—I just happened to be here!”

The captain sneered, “Just happened to be here?”

Li Baixi sighed, feeling it was time to step in.

He had come to check on Cheng Ping, thinking he was struggling with the disguise removal, only to overhear this drama.

Li Baixi stepped out from the shadows, hands in pockets, “Xiao Cheng, why are you still here? They thought you got lost and sent me to find you.”

This perfectly explained Cheng Ping’s presence.

Cheng Ping, realizing Li Baixi had heard everything, looked at him with a pale face.

Li Baixi, however, turned to the captain, raising an eyebrow, “Oh, isn’t this Captain X?”

The captain looked warily at Li Baixi, unaware of who he was, especially in his male disguise.

Li Baixi smiled, “Nice to meet you. I bought your team’s commemorative jersey back in the day.”

The captain: ?

Cheng Ping: ?

Li Baixi continued, “I remember where I put it now… Oh, right, I burned it after you lost to Team XX last year.”

That match had seen the captain perform terribly, while Cheng Ping had momentarily turned the tide.

Li Baixi’s precise hit on the sore spot made the captain’s temple vein bulge, “Who the hell are you?”

Li Baixi casually moved closer to the captain.

It looked like a showdown.

Cheng Ping clenched his fists, fearing Li Baixi might say something provocative, giving the captain more reason to sneer.

Li Baixi didn’t stop until the captain had to lift his head to stare at him. Then he answered, “I’m your daddy.”

The captain: ?

Cheng Ping: ?

This was intolerable. Fueled by alcohol, the captain swung at Li Baixi.

The punch was intercepted midway, Li Baixi gripping his wrist tightly. The captain tried to pull back, but couldn’t break free.

“I advise you to consider the consequences,” Li Baixi said amid the captain’s struggle, “This hand is worth a lot of money and insured for a hefty amount.”

The captain’s face turned purple, “You’re talking nonsense, I don’t have insurance!”

“Huh? I didn’t mean your hand, I meant mine.”

The captain: ?

Cheng Ping: ?

The captain gritted his teeth, “Who are you really?”

“I already told you, I’m your daddy.”