All-Star Game Tickets

The national team was on break. Alan had stayed up late watching match replays last night and slept straight until nine in the morning.

He glanced at the time, suddenly remembering that he had brought a kid to the club yesterday, and quickly climbed to the third floor to call for him.

To his surprise, Xue Wei had already left.

Wen Man’s room was spotless; the quilt was neatly folded and placed in the corner, and the bathroom had been cleaned.
The snacks on the table, if opened, had disappeared along with the trash bag.

The kid had even taken the trash bag with him.

However, he also took some unfinished snacks, probably because he was hungry from waking up early.

Alan opened his phone and saw Xue Wei had messaged him at seven: [Coach A, I’m awake, going back by myself first, thank you.]

‘Coach A.’

‘Seems fine enough.’

Alan typed and sent: [Arrived at EGT yet?]

Xue Wei didn’t reply.
Alan surmised he was catching up on sleep.
Esports players all kept unhealthy hours; although the national team had strict schedules, everyone relaxed during holidays.
Judging by Xue Wei, he likely hadn’t slept all night.

‘Maybe he has trouble sleeping in new places.’

Thinking this, Alan pushed open the door and messaged Wen Man: [Your little youth trainee is back, sent him off this morning, all good, he has trouble sleeping in new places.]

Pretty: [Trouble sleeping in new places?]

[Mm-hm, didn’t sleep well, left early. Don’t blame me, I didn’t not send him off, he ran off by himself first.]

Alan asked him: [Have you booked your flight? The All-Star Game is in a few days; you should come back soon.]

Pretty: [Remember to send a few tickets to EGT.]

Alan frowned, typing into the input box: [Still sending tickets this year? Don’t waste them…] He hadn’t finished typing when he frowned again, moved the cursor back, and deleted the line.

Xue Wei had just returned to EGT, went straight to his room, and crashed to catch up on sleep.
He slept until three in the afternoon.
When he woke up, Zhao Xiaoyi happened to be outside receiving a local delivery.
He signed for it, walked back, and let out a loud shout: “Holy crap! Full-arena tickets for the All-Star Game! And a whole row in the circular seating!”

Teammate Wanshi, nearby, also leaned over to look: “Do we have tickets this year too?”

“We had them last year too.” Zhao Xiaoyi calmed down a bit, “Last year, they seemed to… also send us tickets. But none of us went.”

“Nothing good to go for.” Wanshi sat on the sofa—his gaming chair was piled with clutter and laundry, leaving no room.
He sneered, “Go there, sit below, watching those who beat us all season long play a fake exhibition match? Isn’t that embarrassing?”

“Just sell them on a second-hand website; we can even make tens of thousands back, A-section seats,” Wanshi said.

Zhao Xiaoyi wanted to say something but fell silent.

Xue Wei walked over and asked for a ticket.

The All-Star Game tickets were printed very exquisitely.
Wen Man was in the center position of the poster, a flawlessly handsome face with ink-jade-like peach blossom eyes.

All-Star Game tickets were even harder to get than World Championship finals tickets.
On scalper websites, a single ticket could sell for several thousand, and front-row seats like theirs usually went to auction, often reaching tens of thousands for wealthy patrons.

Zhao Xiaoyi saw Xue Wei put the ticket into his pocket and asked: “Are you going?”

Xue Wei opened his computer, nodded: “Mm.”

Zhao Xiaoyi said: “Then I’ll go too.”

Wanshi said: “Why are you joining the fun? He’s not an ordinary person; he entered National Team Two directly through youth training promotion, his worth has reached fifty million. Can you compare to him?”

Within a day, a rumor circulated in the league, originating from several club high-level coaches—the national team offered a new practice squad member a sky-high transfer fee of fifty million.
Combined with the recently emerging solo king on Whale Live, it wasn’t hard for everyone to guess who this person was.

Zhao Xiaoyi fell silent.

Xue Wei glanced at them.
He wasn’t good at handling interpersonal relationships, nor did he plan to.
So he opened his computer.

To avoid awkwardness, Zhao Xiaoyi tried to strike up a conversation: “Are you going to stream?”

“Not streaming today,” Xue Wei said, “I want to practice aiming.”

“Oh…” Zhao Xiaoyi looked at him, thoughtful.

Actually, Xue Wei had been practicing every day since he arrived a few days ago.

In the entire EGT, only Xue Wei was still doing daily practice.
Everyone else was just passing time, waiting for retirement, or thinking about other ways to make a living.

‘But actually…’

Zhao Xiaoyi suddenly said out of the blue, “I also want to go… go… see God Wen. I once reached fourth in individual KDA points, and at that time, God Wen even matched with me in-game and greeted me.”

Xue Wei looked up at him: “Then we can go together.”

His expression was very normal, as if he was just relieved to have found a carpool buddy; the matter held no other special meaning for him.

However, Wanshi, upon hearing Xue Wei’s words, suddenly let out a cold laugh.

He looked at Wanshi, and then at another teammate, Dangdang—Dangdang was an even more taciturn boy than him, with long hair falling down, obscuring even his eyes, a complete shut-in.

Xue Wei said: “Taking the bus costs three yuan and takes forty minutes. A taxi takes twenty minutes, splitting the cost, it’s two yuan per person. If all of us go, it will save a lot of money.”

He looked at Wanshi.

Wanshi looked at him, seemingly trying to discern something else from his dark eyes.

But he couldn’t see anything.

Xue Wei’s gaze was purely dark, without impurities, calm and unwavering.

Wanshi said nothing, returning to his room with a cold face.

Zhao Xiaoyi tidied his spot and sat down: “I’ll play a few training matches too; it’s been a long time, my hands are rusty.”

“Hey, buddy, don’t be mad at Wanshi; he actually has a pretty good temper,” Zhao Xiaoyi chatted idly while logging into the game. “He harbors resentment. He played in the secondary league for two years and finally made it to the starting lineup in last year’s spring season… that very season, the league reorganized, and we became a practice squad.”

“To get out of the practice squad, you can only play youth training promotion matches. But we lost our coach, lost our tactics. Every day we just learn those foreign teams’ tactics and get sent up to get beaten… no technical skill required. How are we supposed to compete with those in the youth training camp? A genius like you might find it hard to understand,” Zhao Xiaoyi said.

‘Even the best knife, in such an environment, would have its edges blunted.’

Xue Wei said: “Hard to understand, but I understand.”

Zhao Xiaoyi was stunned for a moment.

Xue Wei stared at the training camp, his gaze calm: “The feeling of being unwilling to accept defeat, I understand.”

Zhao Xiaoyi watched him for a while, then silently averted his gaze and went to queue for ranked.

Xue Wei opened his match history and entered Wen Man’s sandbox room.

Snow was still falling in the sky.
This time, when he entered, he realized Wen Man had set him as a co-host, giving him the same rights to freely control this sandbox room as Wen Man.

Xue Wei chose the parameters, set several 1-pixel moving targets, and switched his weapon to the Galil-AR, the gun with the most severe bullet deviation.

He fired fifty shots.

Not a single hit.

From the screen, it looked as if he was shooting at thin air.

He still remembered the sight of Wen Man effortlessly controlling the bullet trajectory and firing three consecutive shots yesterday.

Xue Wei let out a long breath, then slowly exhaled.
He adjusted the parameters again, switching to targets three pixels in size.

He fired another fifty shots.

This time, three hits.

He paused the sandbox page, then opened 《Fire》’s largest global game forum.

He searched for keywords: “Pretty,” “Galil-AR,” and quickly found countless posts.

[How did Pretty control AR?]

Similar posts had continuously appeared for a year.

《Fire》’s accuracy was closely related to weapon recoil, random bullet deviation, and bullet mechanics.

The Galil-AR was also a new weapon released a year ago; all previous weapons did not have such exaggerated bullet deviation.

This gun was not cost-effective in-game, serving as a substitute for Terrorists when they couldn’t afford an AK-47, a secondary weapon, and generally not used much.

Xue Wei played until ten at night, then went to bed on time.

Zhao Xiaoyi, however, trained later than him—he hadn’t logged into the game for a long time and found his hands rusty, so he angrily forced himself to play many ranked matches.

In the middle of the night, Wanshi went downstairs to pour water and saw him still playing: “Not sleeping yet?”

Zhao Xiaoyi said: “Just about to. Our little lone wolf has already gone to sleep. Damn it, let me first kill this sniper on the other side—that gun of his is too annoying.”

He thought Wanshi would leave after pouring water, but Wanshi stood behind him, cup in hand, silently watching.

By the third round, Wanshi couldn’t help but say: “Why the hell aren’t you pushing B-site? Are you taking a stroll by going this way?”

Zhao Xiaoyi’s temper flared: “Knock it off, do you think I’d survive if I went straight to B-site?”

Wanshi couldn’t resist grabbing the mouse: “Give it to me, I can make it through.”

Zhao Xiaoyi failed to hold onto the mouse.
Wanshi snatched it, charged the assault point, and secured the victory.

Zhao Xiaoyi pouted: “You’re a former assaulter, and I’m a free agent. How can my assault play compare to yours? Give me back my mouse.”

Wanshi, however, got invigorated: “Let me play one more round. My hands are itching.”

“If you want to play, play yourself, use your own account,” Zhao Xiaoyi said, “You even talked back to Naonao during the day.”

“I didn’t talk back to him,” Wanshi said, “He’s not going to be one of us eventually.”

“What if he is?” Zhao Xiaoyi stared into his eyes, slowly saying, “The promotion match, we ourselves didn’t go. He said it himself, the bus, forty minutes, three yuan ticket… then he fought his way in himself.”

Wanshi fell silent.

He walked to the side and started clearing clutter from his gaming chair.
The dust-covered computer tower hummed to life.

The next day, Xue Wei woke up, ready to go out for breakfast.

No sooner had he gone downstairs than he found Wanshi and Dangdang awake, each at their desks, playing in the training camp.

He glanced at them, then searched for keys on the coffee table, preparing to go out.

“Bought some shaobing and soy milk and left them on your table; they’re a bit cold, don’t know if you’ll like them,” Wanshi spoke from the side, staring at the computer screen. “Dang Ge and I both ate. Zhao Xiaoyi is catching up on sleep. The rest on the table are for you two.”

Xue Wei looked.
Indeed, he saw several shaobing placed on the other side of the coffee table.
He picked one up and sniffed it; it was edible.

Xue Wei sat down at the table with his soy milk and shaobing, saying: “Thank you.”

Wanshi still didn’t look at him: “Want to play a training match together later?”

Xue Wei said: “I only play solo.”

Wanshi finally glanced at him: “Really a lone wolf, huh? You think we can’t keep up with you?” But there was no aggression in his words anymore.

Xue Wei said: “No.”

He took a bite of shaobing: “I don’t do team coordination; I’m not good at cooperating with others.”

“Then we’ll play by ourselves later,” Wanshi said.

“Mm.”

Xue Wei continued into the sandbox.

The visitor records in the sandbox room had been refreshed countless times by him, every entry showing his ID.

In his friends list, [CHN.Pretty]’s last online status was forty-eight hours ago.

Xue Wei took a sip of soy milk.
Suddenly, his phone chimed, receiving a new message.

[Micro]: [Haven’t streamed all day, are you resting?]

Xue Wei put down his soy milk and quickly replied: “No, I’m in the training camp, trying to practice my skills, so I’m not streaming.”

[Micro]: [Mm, okay, understood.]

Xue Wei’s fingertips paused, then quickly typed: “Sorry, I forgot to ask for leave today. I’ll remember next time.”

The other party hadn’t replied, so he typed and sent again: “The All-Star Game is in a few days; I might need a few more days off. You won’t have to wait for my stream then.”

[Micro]: [It’s fine, understood.]

[Micro]: [I’ll also be going to the All-Star Game in a few days. Want to have a meal together?]

Xue Wei stared at the screen.

He had met up with netizens in person before, and they had all become very good friends of his.

From all corners of the world, it was fate.

It was also all the mortal world’s hustle and bustle he could grasp within a small hospital room.

Xue Wei typed: “I’ll treat you to dinner. Thank you for always supporting my stream.”

[Micro]’s status kept showing ‘typing’, not knowing what they were typing or deleting, eventually only replying with one sentence: [Okay, I’ll contact you then.]