Summary: A botched night out ends with Tong Yao drunk, vulnerable, and rescued by a rival team's Jungler—sparking unexpected consequences, overdue apologies, and the beginning of something that just might change everything.
One-Shot Part Two of Chapter 10
The conference room at CK's headquarters was colder than usual.
Not because of the air conditioning, which, as always, was perfectly calibrated—but because of the silence that hung over the long polished table like a storm waiting to break. Jian Yang had been summoned without context, told simply to report immediately to the executive floor. That alone had been enough to raise flags. He was the team's Captain. The Jungler. He answered to no one but their coach and the sponsors. And yet, here he was. At the end of the room sat two senior board members, faces tight with restraint. Beside them stood CK's team manager, arms crossed and jaw tight. Across the table was the League representative for public relations and compliance.
No one offered him a seat.
"Sit," the manager said curtly.
Jian Yang dropped into the chair at the nearest edge, confused but clearly irritated. "What's this about?" The board member nearest him slid two printed emails across the table. He recognized the first name on sight. Rui. ZGDX's manager. And the second? He blinked. "DQ-5?" he said slowly. "Why the hell is Dragon's team involved in this?"
"Read," the manager snapped.
His eyes scanned the first page. Rui's tone was formal, sharp, professionally worded—but unmistakably scathing. It detailed the incident at Soho Bar. The call Ai Jia had placed to Jian Yang to come retrieve a very drunk girl who had clearly not invited his presence. How Jian Yang arrived, uninvited, and attempted to remove her from the premises despite her objections. Rui listed that there were witnesses, one of them being Xu Tailum, known more widely by his in-game handle, Dragon, DQ-5's Jungler.
The second email was shorter. More direct.
Xu Tailum didn't bother with soft language. He had written: Your player put his hands on someone who clearly didn't want him there. If I hadn't stepped in, we'd be looking at worse than embarrassment. Next time I see him near her, I won't just bruise his pride.
There was even a security photo attached. Jian Yang standing at the bar. Yao, clearly intoxicated and attempting to pull away. Xu Tailum's hand around Jian Yang's wrist, a moment before what looked like it could have been a very real physical escalation.
"You realize who that girl is, don't you?" one of the board members said tightly.
"She's ZGDX's Midlaner," Jian Yang replied flatly. "And she's my ex."
"Exactly," the other board member said, voice low and sharp. "Which means you, as a professional player with a personal history, had no business being anywhere near her while she was vulnerable. Let alone trying to pull her out of a public place against her will."
"She was drunk!" Jian Yang argued. "She didn't even know what was happening—"
"She knew she didn't want to go with you." That was the League rep now, finally speaking. "And multiple witnesses back up that she clearly said no."
Jian Yang's expression twisted. "So what, I'm being punished for trying to help?"
"No," the manager snapped. "You're being investigated for overstepping, and for putting CK's reputation at risk. Between ZGDX's media power, Rui's precise statements, and DQ-5 of all teams siding against you, we're being pressured on all sides to take action."
"And you dragged the League into it?" Jian Yang spat.
"You did that yourself," the board member said coldly. "By making this incident public enough that ZGDX and DQ-5 both had grounds to contact us directly. That's two top-tier teams condemning your behavior. And their fanbases? Already talking."
The manager's eyes narrowed. "You're to step back from all public appearances until further notice. No streams. No interviews. No unofficial scrims. You're on hold."
Jian Yang pushed to his feet. "This is bullshit!"
"You're lucky," the League rep said icily. "Because if Xu Tailum or ZGDX had filed a formal charge for attempted misconduct, you would be facing suspension. Or worse."
Jian Yang stared at them all, breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts. But none of them flinched. Not even the League official. For once, the Captain of CK had nothing to say.
~
YQCB's headquarters wasn't usually this quiet. Even on review days, when strategy meetings stretched long and scrims left the team drained, there was always something, the thump of music from the second floor, the rattle of Pang's cousin's energy drink cans, someone laughing too loud in the hall.
But not today.
Today, Ai Jia stepped through the main doors to a silence so unnerving it made his skin prickle. The receptionist didn't greet him with the usual half-teasing jab about his hoodie collection. The League's internal liaison was already there, seated across from YQCB's owner in the glass conference room. The team's head of PR stood by the window with her arms crossed, her face unreadable but not friendly.
And beside her sat Liang Sheng.
Captain. Support. Silent. And deeply disappointed.
Ai Jia stopped in the doorway.
The owner didn't offer him a seat. "Sit," came the clipped order.
He obeyed slowly, unease coiling in his gut. "Did something happen with scrims?"
No one answered.
Instead, a stack of printed emails was pushed toward him.
The first name he saw—Rui.
ZDGX's Manager.
He frowned, flipping to the first page and scanning the text. It detailed the events at Soho Bar. Tong Yao, their Midlaner, present at the bar and drinking, unknowingly, several Long Island iced teas. Ai Jia's own actions—or rather, lack of action—were laid out in meticulous order. Rui noted that Ai Jia not only failed to remove Yao from the dangerous situation but actively called Jian Yang, her ex, who then attempted to take her away despite visible resistance.
Rui's wording was razor precise. Not angry.
Just damning.
Ai Jia didn't move at first, then he flipped to the second page.
And saw the DQ-5 letterhead. Xu Tailum It wasn't long. It wasn't flowery. It wasn't even polite. It was blunt. It was ice-cold: He called Tong Yao's ex to the bar, then stood there while she tried to get away from said ex. A girl barely five feet, drunk off her ass, and he did nothing. If we hadn't stepped in, she might've ended up in Jian Yang's car. And everyone would've blamed her for it.
Ai Jia swallowed hard.
The League's internal liaison finally spoke. "This has now escalated to a multi-team disciplinary issue. The League cannot—and will not—ignore it."
"I didn't mean for anything to—"
"You let her drink six Long Islands," snapped the PR director. "You didn't stop her. You didn't ask what was in the drinks. You called her ex to handle it. And when she protested? You brushed her off. Tailun had to intervene. And now? DQ-5 and ZGDX have both filed formal statements. Both."
Ai Jia's throat dried out. "I—I didn't think—Jinyang was yelling and—"
Liang Sheng's voice, when it came, was calm. Deadly calm. "She trusted you." Ai Jia's head snapped toward him, the guilt plain on his face. "You were supposed to be the buffer. The safe one. She thought you'd step up. Instead, you looked away and you knew for fact that she wanted nothing to do with Jian Yang, Ai Jia, considering you claim to be her friend."
"I didn't mean to—"
"No," Liang Sheng interrupted sharply. "You just didn't care enough to act."
The silence that followed was heavier than anything else Ai Jia had ever felt in that base.
The owner finally spoke again, voice low. Controlled. "You're being pulled from media appearances until further notice. You'll submit to League-mandated awareness training, and you'll issue a private apology to Tong Yao, when and if she agrees to hear it."
"And if she doesn't?" Ai Jia asked quietly.
Liang Sheng met his eyes. "Then you'll spend the rest of the season earning that second chance."
~
The Chen family estate had always exuded elegance. Gilded restraint threaded through every inch of the carved crown molding and imported mahogany. The silence within the main halls was the kind born not from peace but from expectation, from reputation, from control so absolute it didn't need to be spoken aloud to be obeyed.
Chen Jinyang walked the long corridor toward her father's study with a growing sense of unease threading tightly through her chest. She had been summoned. Not texted. Not called casually. Summoned. The heavy double doors to the study were already open when she arrived. Her father sat behind the lacquered desk that had been in their family for generations, his posture composed, a crystal decanter of untouched liquor beside the leather blotter, and his fingers steepled in front of him like a man delivering verdicts—not discussing them. She stepped inside slowly.
"Father."
He did not look up immediately. Only when the clock ticked past the silence like it was marking time in judgment did he lift his gaze to her. "Sit."
She obeyed without a word.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Two printed emails rested on the desk before him, both stacked neatly, crisp corners aligned with a precision that only meant one thing in this household—finality.
The Chen patriarch didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. "I received an email," he began coldly, "from the manager of ZGDX. A man named Rui. His words were measured. Clear. And utterly damning."
Jinyang's fingers tightened slightly in her lap, but she said nothing.
"An additional statement followed. From Xu Tailum. Jungler for DQ-5. A player with little patience for politics, and even less for interference. Yet he took time to contact both ZGDX and myself directly, to condemn your behavior."
"I didn't think—"
"No," her father interrupted sharply, eyes narrowing. "You didn't. You brought a girl with no alcohol tolerance to a bar. You did not check what she drank. You left her unsupervised while arguing with your boyfriend. And when that same boyfriend called her ex, you did nothing."
"I didn't ask Ai Jia to—"
"You didn't stop him either."
Jinyang's mouth closed.
"Do you have any idea what would have happened had Xu Tailun not intervened? What could have happened? To that girl? To our name?" His voice dropped into something lethal. "Do you?"
"No, sir," she murmured.
He reached into the top drawer and slid out an envelope—sealed, stamped, and addressed. "You are hereby forbidden from entering YQCB's base. And ZGDX's."
Her eyes flew wide. "But they're next door—"
"Exactly." His tone was final, ice sheathed in steel. "You are not to step foot near either of those properties. If Ai Jia wants to see you, he may do so offsite. Your presence is no longer welcome at either team's headquarters."
"But—"
He cut her off with a glare that halted breath in her lungs. "There's more." Her stomach dropped. He opened the second email and read from it word for word: Due to recent events and concerns voiced by multiple teams and managers, the League has decided that Chen Jinyang will no longer be permitted to serve as hostess or commentator for the upcoming OPL drawing ceremony or any media-facing roles for the remainder of this season. This decision was made in consultation with senior team representatives and league management.
Jinyang stared at him, lips parting in disbelief. "They—revoked—everything?"
"The League contacted me, Jinyang," he snapped, fury finally breaking through his composed facade. "Me. Not our press team. Not your mother. Me. They didn't even want to waste time going through proper channels."
She couldn't speak. Not with her throat closing the way it did, not with shame creeping up her spine like a slow, burning frost.
Her father's voice grew colder. "Your influence, your position, your future in this league were all built on the assumption that you understood discretion. Integrity. That you wouldn't endanger others, let alone a girl barely out of university, alone in a foreign city." He stood now, rising to his full, imposing height behind the desk. "From this moment on," he said with quiet, irrevocable finality, "you are to stay out of OPL business unless instructed otherwise. Your access is revoked. Your position? Stripped. I suggest you consider this the last warning you'll ever receive under this name."
Jinyang remained frozen in her seat, breath shaky, composure crumbling in invisible cracks too deep to hide.
He turned his back to her and said only, "Dismissed."
~
The room stayed still, suspended for a breath longer after Yao's laugh faded. It wasn't loud, wasn't bright, but it was real, the kind that lived in the quiet moments—honest and tentative, as if even she couldn't believe it had made it past her lips.
Da Bing bumped his massive head against her chin, and Yao scratched between his ears absentmindedly, her eyes scanning the familiar faces around her now. None of them perfect. None of them without fault. But this time, they weren't looking through her. They were looking at her. With acknowledgment. With apology. With something that looked, finally, like belonging.
Pang nudged her foot gently with his own, grin lazy. "So, uh… does this mean we're not getting kicked out of your will?"
Yao wrinkled her nose at him and muttered, "Jury's still out. You did let me lecture an entire room on corpse disposal while actively dying."
"You were inspired," Pang said with mock reverence.
"Don't encourage her," Rui muttered, already reaching for his phone with the weary sigh of a man who knew this wasn't the last time he'd be filing incident reports involving rogue Long Islands and team Midlaners with a love for marine trivia.
Across from her, Lao Mao leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, voice lower now. "You're one of us, Yao. Not just because you're good. But because you stayed. Even when we didn't make it easy."
Yao's lips twitched. "Well, I'm kind of a little gremlin. We don't scare off that easy."
That earned a small snort from Lao K, and even Rui cracked half a smile.
But it was Sicheng, still beside her, arms relaxed now, not crossed, that sealed the moment. He didn't say much. He never did. But his hand reached out, not commanding, not claiming, just a quiet offer, palm up beside her knee. And after a beat, Yao placed her hand in his. He didn't squeeze. Didn't pull. He just held it. Steady. Present. Like he'd be there, now, if she slipped again. It wasn't fixed. Not completely. There were still bruises under the surface, hurt to mend, trust to rebuild.
But in that room, surrounded by her teammates, her cat, and the odd peace that followed chaos?
Yao didn't feel like a placeholder anymore.
She felt like a Midlaner.
She felt like ZGDX.
And for the first time since she walked through their doors…
She knew she was home.