Pretty

China, C City, National Esports Park Youth Training Base.

When Xue Wei arrived, the esports park was empty and quiet; there was barely a soul in sight.

It was deep winter, and breath froze into ice.

Today’s Route 11 bus was very bumpy; he felt dizzy by the roadside for a while before he could find his bearings.

[Good luck in the Year of the Horse]

[Click to learn more about the event]

“You’re here for the promotion match, right? Which team are you from? How did you get in from outside?”

The security guard checked his admission ticket and was about to question him, but seeing his complexion, he changed his question:

“Are you alright?”

Xue Wei rushed in with his head down, his face a somewhat abnormal pale, only managing to give an OK gesture.

He dashed into the convenience store fifty meters away, threw the consumption card issued by his team onto the owner’s counter, then grabbed two large chocolate bars and some peanut brittle from the shelf.

He sat on the ground, tore open the packaging, and vigorously ate a few large bites before his breathing slowly steadied.

The owner stood by, staring at him dumbfounded: “Are you alright, young man? Should I take you to the infirmary?”

The young man in front of him was fully armored, with a down jacket, hood, and mask all in place; only a pair of almond eyes, revealed outside, showed a delicate, slightly cold allure. But he was clearly almost unable to walk steadily now; his entire person was excessively pale, and his dark hair was damp with cold sweat.

Xue Wei shook his head.

“I’m sorry, my low blood sugar acted up. Thank you, I’ve caused you trouble.”

“Ah, I know, you kids, playing games all day, not paying attention to your health…”

The owner was very generous; after repeatedly confirming he didn’t need to go to the infirmary, he also gave him a bottle of warm strawberry milk and a lengthy string of concerned inquiries.

Xue Wei thanked him, and after a few minutes of rest, he hurried towards the youth training room.

Behind him, an employee, carrying goods in from outside, followed the owner’s gaze outwards: “Which team is that from? Haven’t seen them before.”

“Didn’t get a clear look, but they seemed like a pretty handsome kid.” The owner frowned, “Not from the youth training camp, are they? From an outside team?”

“A team that still needs to play promotion matches… that only leaves one.” The employee stroked their chin, “That’s really… a shame.”

Xue Wei almost arrived late, but he finally made it into the training room before the exam started.

He pushed open the door, letting in a gust of cold wind, and the door made a ‘creak’ sound, breaking the silence in the room.

Many people looked up, subtly scrutinizing him.

“No drinks or snacks are allowed in the training room.”

The invigilator, Alan, the head coach of the team ranked second on the points leaderboard, grumpily patted the training regulations behind him with the rolled-up materials in his hand, “Give me your stuff, I’ll put it in the coaches’ room for you first.”

Xue Wei stopped, obediently handing over the drinks and snacks: “I’m sorry, Coach, I didn’t know.”

“From the practice squad?” Coach Alan’s expression relaxed slightly after looking at his admission ticket. “Hurry up, it starts in five minutes. There are only two chances for promotion matches a year, so do well and don’t waste it.”

Xue Wei found his seat, sat down, and started the computer.

Because of the cold, his fingertips were stiff and white with frost. The computer tower was warm, and he lowered his head, rubbing his fingertips together. His dark, broken hair fell downwards, revealing only a pair of cold, subtly reddened eyes.

People around him cast their gazes, as if observing a monster.

The youth trainees behind him whispered amongst themselves: “…EGT, from the practice squad.”

“The practice squad, do they even count as youth trainees? How can they even come to play promotion matches…”

“Not sure, apparently, the practice squad can also get promoted to the youth training camp through promotion matches… but it seems no one has ever succeeded. Why bother?”

“No wonder… I feel like I’ve never seen them before.”

A brief silence fell over the room.

“Speaking of which – I didn’t eat breakfast either.”

Someone nearby changed the topic, whispering: “Anyone hiding food? I’m starving.”

Silence. Several quick-witted team members stirred, wanting to join the conversation, but none spoke up.

Someone nearby replied with a faint, almost inaudible voice, “Last time I hid a piece of candy, I had nightmares for several nights… That’s a different price.”

Xue Wei put on his headphones and opened the official youth trainee page.

This page was within the national team’s official page; as soon as Xue Wei entered, the first thing that popped up was the replay of the recently concluded World Championship.

On screen, a Chinese commentator was providing real-time translation, mixed with a German commentator, making the sound somewhat distorted.

“Today, he once again created a legendary, epoch-making feat! Although his team narrowly missed the semifinals, he is still the player with the highest individual score this year, and the player who reversed the most battles. He is the well-deserved FMVP (Most Valuable Player) – he is…”

“[CHN (China).Pretty]!!!”

The roar of the stadium overshadowed the cheers of the champion team’s fans.

On screen, the man removed his headphones.

He had a pair of extremely clear, piercing eyes, bright as cold stars.

The broadcast video was high-definition, though the camera was a little shaky.

Xue Wei stared at that face, slightly stunned for a few seconds.

He dragged the progress bar forward, but before he could watch for long, he was startled by Alan’s voice.

“Quiet, everyone!” Alan clearly noticed the unrest in the training room and cleared his throat.

“For today’s assessment, national team coaches and instructors will be watching backstage. They’ll be observing your individual and team matches, and there might even be tie-breakers, so buckle up! Take a gamble, and a bicycle might turn into a motorcycle – what if you’re the teammate God Wen takes a liking to?!”

The promotion matches were held twice a year. The youth trainees beside him whispered to each other: “He said the same thing last year.”

“Dying laughing.” Someone immediately chimed in, “If you want Captain Wen to personally come watch the youth trainees’ promotion matches, you might as well wait for him to wear women’s clothes.”

The individual matches quickly began, the commotion in the training room finally subsided, and the atmosphere gradually became serious.

Xue Wei regained his composure, took another look at the video, then closed the webpage and entered the individual match.

Outside the arena, in the head coach’s office.

Several large screens were joined together, displaying surveillance footage and projections of the promotion matches.

Coaches entered one after another and sat around the conference table.

Alan tossed the snacks and drinks in his hand onto the table. The head coach next to him turned to look, his eyes lighting up: “You bought us chocolate? Great, I was just craving something sweet.”

“Hands off, that’s for the students.” Alan glanced at the empty seat not far away, “Has our ‘Team Flower’ not returned yet?”

“Captain Wen went for a run.” The head coach looked up, “Are you looking for him?”

Alan sounded a bit crestfallen: “The youth trainees dream of God Wen invigilating their exams; I was trying to summon him for them.”

He moved his chair, accidentally tripping, “Oh, damn it!”

“The FMVP trophy, just thrown here.”

Alan picked up a heavy pure gold trophy from a cardboard box by his feet; the moment he saw it clearly, he felt a suffocating pang of heartache, “It could easily be taken by the cleaning aunties and sold as scrap… How much do you think this thing could sell for?”

“If it were yours, it would be worthless.” The head coach stated unsentimentally, “But it’s Pretty’s, so it’s priceless.”

No sooner had he spoken than the door was pushed open.

Everyone immediately fell silent and stood up: “Good morning, Captain Wen.”

Wen Man casually said: “Morning.”

He was wearing a simple sponsored tracksuit. The man’s physique was sensuous and powerful, with broad shoulders and long legs. His dark hair was damp, his skin bore a thin sheen of sweat, and the air carried a sharp, cool scent of lime.

Wen Man used the sports towel he carried to wipe off sweat, then walked straight to the coaches’ viewing platform: “Is it the youth trainees’ promotion matches today?”

“Yes, the individual matches are all done; now it’s the team matches.” The head coach, in front of him, also toned down his usual banter, saying solemnly, “The individual assessment reports that just finished are here.”

“Any interesting youth trainees?” Wen Man lowered his gaze, his dark peach blossom eyes sweeping over the rows of unqualified scores, then curving into a slight smile.

“This batch… only one perfect score?”

His smile at that moment was a little cruel. The head coach ‘tsk’ed, “You set the difficulty this time, how many perfect scores did you expect?”

Exam ID 207, individual promotion match, score 100/100, ranked first, leaving the second-place contestant a full seventeen points behind.

A perfect score meant that this youth trainee didn’t lose a single point in any of the technical tests. Dynamic vision, static vision, fine motor control, reaction ability – all were top-tier.

Possibly even… world-class.

“Let me see.”

Wen Man sat down leisurely in a chair, logging into his spectator account while pulling out a cigarette and slowly offering it.

“You’re too lazy.” The head coach helped him light the cigarette, boldly complaining while nervously pilfering a cigarette from his pocket and lighting one for himself too.

The coaches gathered around him to look at the same page, quickly falling into despair.

“Stop switching, my God Wen, I’m going to throw up!”

“Hm?”

Wen Man’s long, slender fingers held the cigarette, his dark, alluring peach blossom eyes carrying a hint of carefree looseness.

An ordinary mouse moved incredibly fast in his hand; a normal person’s vision could barely track the cursor’s presence. It was well-known that whether Wen Man was playing a game or reviewing a match, his perspective, the speed of his screen switching, and the complexity of his movements had gloriously earned him the top spot on all professional commentators’ ‘assassination list’.

Being around him was very stressful, an indescribable pressure. Everyone on the national team feared him, not because he was strict, but because of his aura.

The head coach forcefully closed his page and turned his head to face the computer. The surveillance footage popped up, displayed alongside the game perspective.

They saw the only youth trainee who achieved a perfect score.

Under surveillance, the thickly wrapped youth sat silently in the corner, his face obscured. Only a glimpse of a sharp chin and slender, pale wrists could be seen.

Wen Man held the cigarette between his fingers, which moved almost imperceptibly.

A fine wisp of ash hovered in mid-air.

The head coach said: “He’s from the practice squad… This student is a bit strange.”