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syncogon · 6 years ago

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[QZGS Prequel TL] Ch 8: Inheritance

(info post and links for the translations of the QZGS prequel, 巅峰荣耀 Top Glory)

summary: Thanks to a contribution of rare materials from a mysterious benefactor, a silver weapon for Troubling Rain has been completed. The time has come for the Sword and Curse to lead Blue Rain to glory.

(This is only a short chapter, and I’d already mostly translated it in my Summer Days of Blue Rain, but for completeness I figured I should clean it up and post it here. Normal disclaimers apply. Read/comment/enjoy!)

Translated by: Syncogon

“They won, they won again!”

“Who won?”

“Tiny Herb, of course it’s Tiny Herb!”

On the television, on the computer, in the Glory game, game forums, Weibo, QQ groups…

Anywhere where people gathered, anywhere where there were Glory players, the news of Tiny Herb’s victory spread like an exploding stove.

Glory Professional Alliance Season 3, in the final round of the regular season, the highly eye-catching Tiny Herb didn’t disappoint. Even when they had already secured their spot in the playoffs, they still played seriously to earn the last victory in the regular season, entering the playoffs at third place.

Tiny Herb wasn’t new to the playoffs, but this Tiny Herb, in their eyes, was an entirely new Tiny Herb.

And in reality, they had only switched one person.

Tiny Herb’s captain, the controller of core character Vaccaria, was now changed to a new person. And this new player’s name, along with his title, had echoed through the entirety of Glory from early on.

The Magician, Wang Jiexi.

This was a title that belonged to him, entirely unrelated to the character he controlled. His brilliant, incredible play was like magic. Let alone the ordinary gamers who wished to imitate it, even among the pros there was no one who could fathom the mystery. The experience of the seniors unraveled in front of this never-before-seen playstyle, and one expert after another fell to Wang Jiexi’s Vaccaria.

He was a rookie. In the beginning, they called him a challenger.

But now, at the end of the season, the challenger had quietly become the conqueror.

True, Wang Jiexi didn’t win every single battle. But only the Arena had ever had that kind of win record, and there was no way to surpass Ye Qiu there.*

In the Glory professional circle, people saw too many pro players rendered helpless in front of Wang Jiexi.

In the Glory in-game circle, the Witch accounts that sprung up trying to emulate his style were abandoned soon enough. They had no way of replicating Wang Jiexi’s Magician playstyle, and this kind of Witch naturally had no way of displaying the radiance they had hoped to see.

And now, the unique Magician was about to begin a new journey.

“Season 3 Playoffs, the Magician Arrives!” Huang Shaotian read aloud the headline of Esports Weekly. They were the greatest authority of esports media in the country; putting Wang Jiexi as the star of the final report of the regular season was proof of the anticipation toward this player. But after Huang Shaotian saw this title, he only spared a casual glance at the contents of the article before studying the player’s photograph in the article, and he revealed an unusual expression of melancholy.

“That guy, he’s already gotten to that level.” Huang Shaotian tossed the newspaper back onto the table. He tucked his arms behind his head, tilted back, and grumbled at the ceiling.

To the side, Yu Wenzhou was carefully studying a Glory battle and occasionally making notes in his notebook on the table. After hearing Huang Shaotian’s mutter, he paused the match and turned his head, his eyes sweeping across the large headline on the front page of the newspaper.

“The Magician. An accurate name.” This was his reaction after looking at the article.

“You…” Huang Shaotian was somewhat disappointed by Yu Wenzhou’s lackluster response, and he straightened in his chair. “Got any good analysis on him?”

“He-”

“Shaotian!”

Just when Yu Wenzhou opened his mouth, another young new Blue Rain trainee crashed into the training room, loudly hollering Huang Shaotian’s name.

“R&D just completed a silver weapon for Troubling Rain! Captain wants you to go look!” As soon as the youth caught his breath, he was already yelling these next words.

“What?” Haung Shaotian’s eyes instantly widened, and he leapt from his chair.

“Let’s go let’s go!” he yelled, already forgetting about the question he’d asked Yu Wenzhou as he flew out of the room.

Yu Wenzhou, who had just gotten out a “he,” could only smile and shake his head. He turned back to the computer, and was just about to unpause his video when the trainee that had called Huang Shaotian spoke again.

“Wenzhou, aren’t you going too? They’re saying that they only managed to complete this silver weapon because a mysterious player sent a whole lot of rare materials to Blue Brook Guild!” the youth said.

Hearing that, Yu Wenzhou froze. “A mysterious player?”

“Yeah,” the trainee confirmed.

Yu Wenzhou’s gaze drifted across the training room, landing upon that one computer that hadn’t been touched in almost a year.

After their former captain had made that simple announcement of “I’m leaving,” the seat he had used was left empty, his computer left idle. The Blue Rain members reached a tacit agreement that no one would touch his spot, as though hoping that one day, as suddenly as he had left, that man would return and take his place once more.

“But… you haven’t really left, have you,” Yu Wenzhou mused to himself, his mood like Huang Shaotian’s earlier, somewhat melancholy.

“Wenzhou, are you coming or not?” The other boy’s impatient voice cut into his thoughts.

“I’m coming,” Yu Wenzhou answered, gathering his notebook and pen and quickly walking toward the door. The trainee was holding the door open as he waited, and Yu Wenzhou noticed that the fingers of his right hand were moving restlessly on the doorknob, as though controlling a mouse or tapping a keyboard.

“Your hand speed’s pretty high,” Yu Wenzhou smiled, seeing that restless hand.

“I’d rather discuss that topic with Shaotian…” the boy said.

Yu Wenzhou chuckled; he was well known within Blue Rain for his inescapably slow hand speed, no matter how hard he trained. Of course, by now, no one would think to mock him for it. Despite this handicap, he still won many matches in their circle with this kind of APM. He demonstrated remarkable talent that was more than enough to make up for his weakness.

As for this trainee, he wasn’t really insulting Yu Wenzhou with that comment; he was simply the mischievous type. Captain Fang Shijing had mentioned that he liked this trainee’s style, and Yu Wenzhou suspected that this was a major reason for his recruiting this youth from the Challenger League into the Blue Rain training camp.

However, even just considering raw skill and potential, there was nothing to criticize about Captain Fang Shijing’s choice.

“If we only consider right hand APM, his hand speed is even higher than Shaotian’s.” This was one of Fang Shijing’s important evaluations of him, and indeed it was the case.

Yu Wenzhou didn’t otherwise respond to the trainee’s teasing. “Let’s go, Fang Rui,” he said to him as he walked out the door.

Blue Rain, R&D department.

For any professional team, the technical department was the most heavily guarded secret area. Information on how the team’s silver equipment was developed, or the specifics of their stats, could not under any circumstances be allowed to leak to the public.

After Wei Chen pulled the prodigy Huang Shaotian into Blue Rain’s training camp, Blue Rain’s technical team gained a new top priority – developing the silver equipment for Huang Shaotian’s Blade Master, Troubling Rain.

And today, they completed the most important piece of this most important work.

The weapon!

A self-made weapon belonging to Troubling Rain alone, a silver weapon, was finally created.

This wasn’t something that an ordinary Glory player could have made by just throwing together rare materials in the editor. Most silver weapons made by ordinary players weren’t any different from normal weapons, aside from the silver-colored name. But this was a true silver weapon, one that elevated its user’s stats far beyond what any normal weapon could hope to accomplish.

When Yu Wenzhou and Fang Rui entered, they found the room completely silent. Everyone was crowded around one computer, and most didn’t even bother to look up at the sound of their entrance. Those that did only glanced over before quickly turning back.

With effort, the two of them maneuvered through the crowd to a vantage point from which they could see the screen.

The screen displayed this precious weapon – a light saber, slowly rotating. The blade looked like a crystal raindrop, elongated and sharpened; it glowed with threads of pale blue light and wisps of icy mist.

The silence in the room lasted for an indeterminable amount of time before it was finally broken by Huang Shaotian, who, despite his talkative mouth, had only one word to say.

“Amazing.”

Standing right beside him, Captain Fang Shijing said to him, “Try it out.”

Huang Shaotian nodded sharply. In a flurry of movement, he equipped the weapon on his character and entered a match in the Arena.

When the battle began, no one paid attention to his poor opponent or his class; they only saw the flashes of blue light from the sword in Troubling Rain’s hand. They watched it dance, jump, kill. Blood droplets scattered across the ground as his opponent fell.

“This is fantastic!” This time, Huang Shaotian said three words, and he jumped up onto his chair. “With him, next season I’ll give them a show! What Battle God, King of Fighting, Blood and Blossoms, Magician… Just you all wait!”

“Alright!” No one moved to stop Huang Shaotian’s excited movement. All of the Blue Rain members, staff and players alike, had been awaiting this day for a long time.

This season, Wei Chen had retired, Fang Shijing had stepped up, Blue Rain hadn’t even made it to the playoffs. To outsiders, it seemed as though this team’s days of being a powerhouse were over, that they were now fading from the spotlight.

But no one at Blue Rain believed this.

Even if their record this season was poor, even if they were forgotten this summer. No matter what, they had faith that Blue Rain would have an era that belonged to them. And this era, with the birth of this silver weapon, was about to begin.

“It’s up to you, Shaotian!” one of the technical workers said, and others immediately voiced their agreement.

“Do you even need to say that? Of course!” said Huang Shaotian. But just that one battle wasn’t enough for him to fully try out this new weapon. He quickly sat back in his chair and entered a new battle, this time chattering away at the tech workers sitting near him as he experimented with his new capabilities.

By this time, Captain Fang Shijing had quietly made his way through the crowd to stand by Yu Wenzhou.

“Are you ready?” he asked, abruptly.

Yu Wenzhou turned to look at him. But Fang Shijing was staring out the window, gazing at that brilliant blue sky beyond.

“Yes,” answered Yu Wenzhou.

“Then it’s time to entrust this to you.” As he spoke, Fang Shijing’s gaze shifted down to his hand, and the account card it held. Without fanfare, this card was passed to its new owner.

“From today on, you are the captain of Team Blue Rain, user of the Warlock Swoksaar.”

*the original text said “诚然王杰希也不是百战百胜，但是竞技场上，从来没有这样的胜率，强如叶秋，也不可能。” which I read as something like “True, Wang Jiexi didn’t win every single battle. But the Arena had never seen this kind of win record before, and there was no way to surpass Ye Qiu.” But no matter how I looked at it, I couldn’t figure out how that sentence was true / made sense.

#quan zhi gao shou #qzgs #the king's avatar #tka #全职高手 #translation #mine #qzgs prequel #it's been a while and this isn't super new content so apologies #main novel takes priority #but there are only 3 chapters left! tbt when i said there was no way i'd do the whole thing lmao

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mastcomm · 5 years ago

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A New Martyr Puts a Face on China’s Deepening Coronavirus Crisis

WUHAN, China — More than 600 people have died. Tens of thousands are infected. Millions are living under lockdown, and the government has sought to silence complaints.

But what provoked an online revolt in China on Friday, the fiercest assault on the censors in almost a decade, began with the death of one man: the doctor who tried to raise an alarm about the coronavirus.

The deluge of mourning and anger at the death of the doctor, Li Wenliang — from the same virus he was reprimanded for mentioning — at times overwhelmed China’s sophisticated censorship and propaganda systems. Many on social media called the doctor a martyr and a hero, and government officials, celebrities and business leaders risked rebuke by the Communist Party to join ordinary citizens in expressing frustration and grief.

“Li Wenliang’s death has become an emotional flash point,” said Wang Yu, a Wuhan man in his 20s, showing the torrent of comments on his phone about Dr. Li in his social media feeds.

“He’s a tragic figure in this epidemic, and his death has taken this tragedy to a new extreme,” Mr. Wang said. Then he hesitated and took back his words. “I worry that his death won’t be the extreme of this tragedy.”

The doctor’s death posed a new test for China’s leader, Xi Jinping, who was already facing deep political problems — over a newly signed trade deal with Washington, Taiwan’s recent election and Hong Kong’s protest movement — before the virus spilled out of Wuhan. In recent weeks, Mr. Xi’s talks with foreign leaders have shifted to a defense of China’s response to the epidemic, which has sickened more than 31,000 people and brought the country to a near standstill.

Now, the government is also caught in a tug of war over Dr. Li’s legacy that could challenge Mr. Xi’s powerful censorship apparatus.

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Li Wenliang at Wuhan Central Hospital last month.Credit��Li Wenliang, via Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

When Dr. Li, 34, warned of the virus in an online chat room more than five weeks ago, the police made him an example of what befalls those who do not comply with official demands for secrecy. He was summoned by the authorities and forced to sign a statement denouncing his warning as an unfounded and illegal rumor.

After his death on Friday, many Chinese said he was a haunting reminder of the early steps taken to cover up the outbreak.

Updated Feb. 5, 2020

Where has the virus spread? You can track its movement with this map.

How is the United States being affected? There have been at least a dozen cases. American citizens and permanent residents who fly to the United States from China are now subject to a two-week quarantine.

What if I’m traveling? Several countries, including the United States, have discouraged travel to China, and several airlines have canceled flights. Many travelers have been left in limbo while looking to change or cancel bookings.

How do I keep myself and others safe? Washing your hands is the most important thing you can do.

Stuck inside by widespread lockdowns, many people are glued to the internet, with abundant time to dwell on the doctor’s death. Chinese social media, often fractious and fickle, was as unanimous as it has ever been in its grief for Dr. Li, with eulogies flowing from all corners of the country. For a few hours, a trending hashtag called for freedom of speech.

Unable to fully expunge the discussions, Beijing has turned to state media to transform Dr. Li into a loyal soldier aligned with the government’s cause. The tussle over the doctor’s memory and the political implications are reminiscent of what happened after the SARS outbreak, some said in posts that were quickly deleted.

Jiang Yanyong, the retired military doctor who first called attention to widespread undercounting of SARS cases, has been erased from the official record of that time. By contrast, Zhong Nanshan, the doctor who first identified SARS, has been lionized as a faithful servant. When Beijing needed someone to publicly deliver bad news about the coronavirus, it turned to Dr. Zhong.

Dr. Li’s death also showed how online anger can occasionally slosh over the tall censorship walls built to stifle it. China’s censors have not been this overwhelmed since 2011, when anger and embarrassment over a high-speed rail accident in Wenzhou became impossible to scrub. The Wenzhou crash helped spur new policies to more tightly police the internet.

While many of the lives lost in the coronavirus outbreak have been obscured by the numbers, Dr. Li’s death has provided a face and story for the victims of the epidemic and the medical workers struggling to contain it.

In Wuhan, a steel-gray sky hung over the melancholy day of Mr. Li’s death. An impromptu memorial of flowers, a black-and-white photograph and singed cigarettes — a stand-in for joss sticks — formed at the entrance of the hospital where he had died. The mourners during the daytime were few, perhaps because many people in Wuhan remain afraid to stray too far from home.

“Thank you for your courage,” said the message on one bouquet of chrysanthemums, the Chinese flower of mourning. “Heroes never die, thank you,” said another.

In an interview with Pear Video, Dr. Li’s mother spoke of her grief through sobs. For several weeks, he was stable and able to get out of bed and eat, she said, adding that only in the last two days did his condition deteriorate. She said she had not been able to see him before he died and described the shattered family he left behind.

“In June, his second child will be born,” she said, adding that she and Dr. Li’s father had both contracted the illness, but recovered. “What happens to his family? Is it not broken?”

“Me and his father were cured, but pitifully our child, our child didn’t make it,” she added. “He was 34 years old. He had great potential. He was a very talented kid. He isn’t like other people who lie — he was loyal to his duties.”

Candle emojis, quotes and images of Dr. Li dominated social media feeds. Business leaders and celebrities, accustomed to muzzling political hot takes for fear of invoking the government’s wrath, shared their thoughts and condolences. One popular illustration turned the outlines of Dr. Li’s surgical mask into barbed wire.

A part of Dr. Li’s appeal has been his Everyman sensibilities. He loved fried chicken thighs, was annoyed when cherry prices rose too high and often got stuck working extra shifts at the hospital. Like many others in China, he wrote all about it online.

On the microblogging site Weibo, users surfaced his old musings.

“A life not examined is not worth living,” he wrote in a characteristically quirky post, after musing about the origin of egg pancakes. “I hope everyone can fulfill their values.”

The country’s state media released its own remembrances, in some cases working to subtly co-opt Dr. Li’s story.

China’s National Health Commission recalled him not as a Cassandra warning about the virus, but instead as a doctor on the front lines of the response. Although Dr. Li had expressed a desire to help his colleagues, he was an ophthalmologist who was sickened by a patient he was treating for glaucoma.

“Since the start of the epidemic, many medical workers disregarded their own safety, gave up their small family, and braved the difficulties for the bigger family, and fought bravely at the foremost front line of the epidemic,” the health commission said in a statement. Those workers, it added, “made great contributions to protect people’s life and health, and we pay the utmost respect.”

China’s state-run television broadcaster sought to link Dr. Li directly to Mr. Xi’s own words about the battle against the epidemic. “Beating this devil virus is the best consolation to the deceased,” the broadcaster said in a commentary, echoing Mr. Xi’s characterization of the illness.

On Friday, bowing to popular pressure, Communist Party officials said they would send a team from the powerful anticorruption committee to investigate the circumstances surrounding Dr. Li’s death.

The State Supervisory Committee has “decided to send an investigation team to Wuhan, Hubei Province, to conduct a comprehensive investigation on related issues reported by the masses about Dr. Li Wenliang,” it said on Friday, releasing a one-line statement on its website.

It is rare for the Communist Party to react so swiftly to public outrage. Several top officials and state media outlets had joined in the chorus mourning Dr. Li’s death. In statements online, the National Health Commission and the Wuhan government said they had expressed their condolences.

The New York Times spoke to Dr. Li a week before his death. “If the officials had disclosed information about the epidemic earlier,” he told The Times, “I think it would have been a lot better. There should be more openness and transparency.”

“I felt I was wronged, but I had to accept it,” he said of his arrest. “Obviously I had been acting out of good will.”

“I have felt very sad seeing so many people losing their loved ones.”

Reporting was contributed by Daniel Victor, Eimi Yamamitsu, Steven Lee Myers, Sui Lee Wee, Elaine Yu, Liz Alderman, Denise Grady, Scott Reyburn and Vivian Wang. Research was contributed by Lin Qiqing, Albee Zhang, Elsie Chen and Cao Li.

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/a-new-martyr-puts-a-face-on-chinas-deepening-coronavirus-crisis/

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lynne-monstr · 2 years ago

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Writer's Month Day 14: Ship

The King's Avatar, Yuhuang, Blue Rain, Yu Feng, pirate au

“What should we do with the traitor?”

The harsh tone of Yu Wenzhou’s voice rises above the whistling of the ocean wind. He stands on the deck of his ship, surveying his crew, swords drawn where they have the traitor surrounded.

The pirates of the ship Blue Rain have a reputation for being a mild mannered bunch, right up until the moment they creep up behind you and slit your throat. Their ship isn’t the fastest, but everyone in these waters knows to steer clear if they value their lives. As their captain, Yu Wenzhou needs to be as cunning as he is ruthless, lest anyone forgets and starts to confuse Blue Rain’s lack of aggression for weakness. People say he looks more like a scholar than a pirate captain, but it's a mistake few make twice.

“Walk the plank!” The words are a loud squawk, silencing the murmur of the men. “The plank, the plank!”

Above their heads, a noisy parrot spins circles, a smear of bright blue and yellow against the endless sky. The parrot gives another loud squawk before gliding towards the deck and landing on Yu Wenzhou’s shoulder.

“Isn’t that a little harsh, Shaotian?” Yu Wenzhou asks, valiantly ignoring the way the parrot happily chomps on his hair. It’s more than a little undignified for a captain to be groomed by his parrot on the deck of his ship, but his men have seen worse. He catches Song Xiao hiding a smile, though he never drops his blade or his guard.

“Walk the plank!” The parrot cries out again, and Yu Wenzhou hides a wince at the loud noise shouted directly into his ear.

“What the fuck, Huang Shao. I thought we were friends!” The traitor gives Yu Wenzhou’s shoulder a glare, though the blades near his neck mean he doesn’t try to come any closer.

The parrot ruffles his feathers, and then the pressure on Yu Wenzhou’s shoulder is gone, replaced by a young man with sun-dyed hair standing at his side. A pair of blue and yellow feathered earrings dangle from his ears, a match to the bracelets on both his wrists.

Huang Shaotian. First Mate of the ship Blue Rain.

Huang Shaotian runs a hand through his wind-mused hair, the other resting on the elaborate sword at his waist. “Friends? You think we’re friends, Yu Feng? Friends don’t conspire against their friends with those Hundred Blossoms scoundrels. We saw you meeting secretly with them. Were you giving away secrets? Tell me, tell me right now!”

“Shaotian, let him speak,” Yu Wenzhou says under his breath, placing a hand on Huang Shaotain’s shoulder before he can say any more.

“The captain had drinks with Captain Wang last month,” Yu Feng says, looking put out. “Why aren’t you telling him to walk the plank? Tiny Herb blew a hole in us last winter, or did you already forget?”

“The captain can do whatever he wants!” Huang Shaotian yells back.

“We know that already, please don’t remind us.” Zheng Xuan interrupts.

“Shut up, Zheng Xuan. Maybe next time you should knock before coming into the captain’s quarters at night, huh. You ever think about that?”

“It was after breakfast.”

It takes effort, but Yu Wenzhou refrains from dropping his head into his hands. Instead, he draws his sword.

Every voice on the deck falls quiet at the singing of his blade. The sails flap loudly in the wind, punctuated by the spray of water against the sides of the ship.

“Yu Feng,” Yu Wenzhou says, as he stalks across the span of the deck. With his sword glinting in the midday sun, he looks nothing like a scholar. He looks like the encroaching shadow of death. When he reaches the circle of his crew, they part, letting him through.

Yu Feng lifts his chin, but it isn’t enough to hide the gleam of terror beneath his cool demeanor. “Captain.”

“You could have told me you wanted to leave.”

“I didn’t want to say anything until I had somewhere to go.”

Yu Wenzhou studies him for a long moment before tilting his head in acknowledgement. “You were right that I met with Captain Wang. I hear the Hundredth Blossom will soon be in need of a new captain.”

Yu Feng smiles, a hint of his usual pride shining though. “Not anymore.”

Yu Wenzhou steps back, and motions to his men to drop their weapons.

“We’re not killing him?” Xu Jingxi asks, looking relieved.

“Of course not,” Huang Shaotian says, slinging an arm over Xu Jingxi’s shoulder. The feathers in his ears sway back and forth with the rocking of the ship. “Just teaching him a lesson about the value of keeping your friends informed.”

Yu Feng frowns, but is quickly distracted by Zheng Xuan returning his pair of pistols and his backup knife. “I hate all of you,” he proclaims, to a chorus of friendly jeers.

“Let’s eat,” Yu Wenzhou says, smiling as if the entire incident had never happened. He looks over at Li Yuan and adds, “Set a course for the port. We’ll see Yu Feng off when we make land.”

“Yes, Captain!”

As they descend deep within the ship, Yu Feng turns to look at Yu Wenzhou and Huang Shaotian walking to either side of him. It feels a little like a prison march except he’s fairly sure the matter is settled. “You knew the whole time,” he says. It isn’t a question. “You knew I never betrayed you. What the hell was that farce out there?”

“Something to remember us by.” There’s something terrifying in the quirk of Yu Wenzhou’s smile, far more than Huang Shaotian’s raucous laughter. "Stay in touch, Yu Feng. Don’t be an enemy.” He sets a hand on Yu Feng’s shoulder as they turn a corner. “If the Hundredth Blossom is ever in need of aid, you know where to find us.”

Days later, when Yu Feng leaves the Blue Rain for the last time, he’s still debating whether Yu Wenzhou had wished him well or threatened him.

#WritersMonth2022 #the king's avatar #yuhuang #tka fanfic #lynne writes fic #was this whole thing an excuse to write parrot shifter hst??? maybe!!#yu wenzhou #huang shaotian #yu feng

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lynne-monstr · 4 years ago

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yu wenzhou doesn't mean to say it.

he treads a fine line in his professional life, careful to maintain a balance between telling the truth and not revealing too many personal details.

the reporter catches him right as he's leaving the stadium with the team, a place where the press shouldn't even be allowed to access. "captain yu, what would you say is the most special thing glory has given you during your career."

it's yu wenzhou's own fault for being taken off guard after an exhausting day. the answer slips out before he can run it past his usual mental filter, an immediate and instinctual reaction to a question he could answer in his sleep.

"shaotian."

he barely realizes he's said it aloud until he registers the honest shock in the reporter's face. a litany of curses race through yu wenzhou's mind. this is going to be a mess to clean up.

beside him, huang shaotian shoos the reporter away in a flurry of angry words.

a streak of warmth at his side brings yu wenzhou out of his musings. huang shaotian is pressed up against him, looking at him strangely. "did you mean it?"

yu wenzhou could lie.

he could pass it off as a silly joke and that would be the end of it. huang shaotian is his best friend and his partner, his other half and right hand in glory. they've never been more than that, despite the way yu wenzhou looks at him when huang shaotian's back is turned.

yu wenzhou could lie except he doesn't want to. he shrugs a shoulder and smiles helplessly. "it's true."

"wenzhou, i—" huang shaotian jerks them to a halt and looks around to make sure no one except the team is in the immediate vicinity.

before yu wenzhou can figure out what's happening, warm hands grip his face, tilting his chin downwards. he vaguely registers huang shaotian pressing to his tiptoes and then there's the blooming warmth on his forehead.

a kiss.

it's the most chaste kiss he's ever received from someone he likes yet at the same time, the most intimate. his eyes close and he sinks into the moment. the soft breath on his face, the arms holding him steady, the familiar body pressed against his chest.

huang shaotian standing between him and the world.

when he finally opens his eyes, it's to the sight of his favorite person beaming at him.

#the king's avatar ramblings #yuhuang #ficlets #idk where this came from eithee but here we are #tka fanfic #i guess #i just wanted ywz saying that the most important thing glory gave him was hst 💙#the king's avatar

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lynne-monstr · 4 years ago

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[fic] take you through the night

the king’s avatar. yuhuang | kinktober day 4: somnophilia (rated e)

ao3 link

Yu Wenzhou is beautiful like this. Naked in Huang Shaotian’s bed, his face relaxed in sleep.

A faint glow of light seeps in from around the curtains but otherwise the room is dark and silent. Yesterday was long and stressful but it’s okay because Huang Shaotian has taken steps to ensure today is just for them. He’s going to take care of everything. Absolutely everything, including his captain.

Slowly, he sits up and peels back the covers, careful not to go too fast. He rubs a hand across Yu Wenzhou’s chest as it’s exposed to the cool bedroom air, easing him into the temperature change until the full length of his body is bare to Huang Shaotian’s gaze. Unconsciously, Yu Wenzhou shifts closer in his sleep, his body seeking the nearest heat source.

“Not yet, Captain,” Huang Shaotian’s whispers, pressing a hand on Yu Wenzhou’s shoulder to hold him in place.

He keeps the touch light and is rewarded when Yu Wenzhou settles onto his back. His nipples are two dark smudges against his smooth chest and Huang Shaotian gives into temptation, dipping his head to kiss one of them. He sucks at it lightly, teasing and playing until it hardens against the tip of his tongue. He grins against Yu Wenzhou’s skin, ending with a chaste kiss before pulling away.

Yu Wenzhou doesn’t wake up, but his head is slightly tilted back on the pillow, his mouth a little more open than it was before.

“I know, I know. You like that. You always like that.” Huang Shaotian keeps his voice steady and low.

Contrary to popular opinion, he knows how to regulate the volume of his words. He’s loud because he wants to be not because he’s incapable of quiet. It isn’t his problem most people don’t figure out the difference until Troubling Rain gets the jump on them. And anyway, he has more important things to be concentrating on, like his captain’s cute nipples.

And the rest of him, laid out like every one of his wet dreams come true.

The other nipple isn’t close enough to kiss without leaning too far over and potentially waking Yu Wenzhou, so Huang Shaotian uses his hand, rolling the soft skin between his fingers until it too hardens to a small nub. This close, he can hear the hitch in Yu Wenzhou’s breathing, can see the faint twitch of his hips as his body stirs. His cock isn’t hard, not yet. It’s sleeping like the rest of him, nestled in the dark patch of hair Yu Wenzhou keeps neat and trim. Always so tidy, his captain.

It’s a nice stroke of luck that Yu Wenzhou was soft when Huang Shaotian woke up. Don't get him wrong, he can appreciate starting the day with Yu Wenzhou’s morning wood tucked hard and hot against his ass. But he likes this just as much, and he can feel the increasing throb between his own legs at the thought of not just getting Yu Wenzhou off, but getting him hard while he remains blissfully asleep.

He trails his hand down Yu Wenzhou’s chest towards the hard muscle of his stomach. He can feel the familiar ripple of abs beneath his palm, the physical manifestation of all the hours he puts in at the gym when he’s not training at a keyboard. Huang Shaotian isn’t personally a huge fan of working out, but it’s worth it to get an eyeful of Yu Wenzhou lifting weights.

“You should see yourself like this. The most beautiful captain in the world.” Huang Shaotian rubs soothing circles into his stomach, pleased when even in sleep, Yu Wenzhou’s back arches into the touch. “You’re so honest like this,” he muses.

Not that Yu Wenzhou doesn’t let himself go during sex when he’s awake. Considering how unflappable he is in everyday life, most people probably wouldn’t expect him to be expressive in bed. They’d all be wrong and Huang Shaotian would laugh at them, except that knowledge is only for him. No one else gets to see Yu Wenzhou like that. The way he laughs when he’s happy, how he begs when he’s on edge, or how he eagerly spreads his legs and asks for what he wants. Huang Shaotian never gets tired of it, but he can’t deny the appeal of Yu Wenzhou like this. Asleep and unable to even try and hide.

Huang Shaotian wants to keep him like this forever.

He plays with Yu Wenzhou’s nipples a bit more, tugging lightly, licking and kissing and toying with him until a thin sheen of sweat rises on his skin. He peppers kisses on his collarbone, against the hollow of his throat. He brushes the fringe of hair out of Yu Wenzhou’s eyes, trailing fingers up the line of his neck and teasing the spot at the hinge of his jaw that drives Yu Wenzhou wild. It draws out a whine so loud that Huang Shaotian nearly jumps out of his skin, afraid he’d miscalculated and woken Yu Wenzhou.

But no, he was just making noises while sleeping.

Playing it safe, Huang Shaotian eases up and touches himself instead. His own cock is already hard and aching between his legs. Ha, maybe it’s a good thing Yu Wenzhou is asleep, because there’s no one to raise an eyebrow at how quickly Huang Shaotian is teetering towards the edge.

It’s not his fault. He’s used to working fast, it’s his whole damn reputation. Also, he’s still a young guy and the internet says there’s nothing to be ashamed of.

“Really, Shaotian?” The echo of his captain’s amused voice sounds in his head and it’s enough to push him the rest of the way over. His hand frantically works his cock, come spilling over his fingers and landing in a spurt on Yu Wenzhou’s belly. A sharp pain radiates from the finger on his other hand and he realizes it’s because he put his fist in his mouth to keep himself quiet.

He shakes his hand out until he can no longer feel the tooth-shaped indentations. Listen, he’s good at winging his plans when the moment calls for it, he never said he was smart at it.

Laid out on the bed, Yu Wenzhou is still fast asleep, though his breathing is on the fast side. His nipples and his neck are shiny from saliva, his stomach a come-streaked mess. Huang Shaotian is tempted to abandon the plan and wake him up right now, just so he can see what Huang Shaotian’s made of him.

Maybe next time. For now he has a plan to follow.

Keeping his movements calm, he strokes a finger along the length of Yu Wenzhou's soft cock. And immediately wishes he had the forethought to keep the lube closer to the bed. This is why Yu Wenzhou is the planner and Huang Shaotian is the roving ace. Oh well, good thing he’s good at improvising. Who knew all these Glory skills would prove useful in the bedroom? Maybe he should pitch that to Yu Wenzhou when he wakes up, a sexy advertising campaign for Blue Rain to attract more trainees. But for now, he'd rather pay attention to the weight of Yu Wenzhou's cock resting heavy in his hand.

Smearing his free palm into the come on Yu Wenzhou’s stomach, Huang Shaotian starts stroking him. It doesn’t take long before Yu Wenzhou starts to harden. A few swipes of his thumb over the head yield a bit of precome that he adds to the mix already on his palms.

He takes it slow, letting Yu Wenzhou ease into it. And he does, beautifully. Even in his sleep, his hips find a rhythm with Huang Shaotian’s lazy strokes. His legs spread wider, giving enough room for Huang Shaotian to carefully kneel between them. In the otherwise silent room, the only noise is the two of them panting and the occasional moan from a sleeping Yu Wenzhou. His body is completely open to Huang Shaotian’s sight, his every reaction laid bare without the filter of consciousness.

At times like this, he wonders how he got lucky enough that a guy like Yu Wenzhou—with his razor sharp mind and his intense focus and his gorgeous body that no one else gets to have—actually likes him back. It makes him want to bury himself in Yu Wenzhou’s arms, burrow beneath his skin so he can stay with him always.

“Oh Wenzhou, Wenzhou, Wenzhou. My beautiful captain.” Leaning in, Huang Shaotian places a kiss on the tip of his cock.

His cock is so pretty, rock hard and curving towards his stomach from the dark patch of hair. The dim lighting doesn’t allow Huang Shaotian to see much color but his eyes have adjusted enough to make out how it's visibly dark and reddish. With his other hand, Huang Shaotian plays with Yu Wenzhou’s balls, rolling them around between his fingers and giving them the barest tug whenever Yu Wenzhou’s legs hitch wider apart.

It’s strange to see his body so responsive while his face remains slack in sleep, softer without his glasses. Yu Wenzhou prefers to wear them during sex, despite how much they slide around. Something about how he likes watching all Huang Shaotian’s expressions. It makes him wish he’d brought up the question of his camera phone, earlier. He wants to film Yu Wenzhou like this, wants to capture him when he’s so deeply vulnerable and play it back to him later. He wants to watch him discover with his own eyes what he let Huang Shaotian see.

Fuck, he’s hard again and he doesn’t have any spare hands. He isn’t a selfish prick, so he ignores his own desire in favor of Yu Wenzhou, whose body is starting to tremble on the bed.

“Almost there, I’ve got you.” A flare of heat runs through him at the sight of his hands on Yu Wenzhou’s cock when he’s like this.

Yu Wenzhou’s body likes the same things as when he’s awake, and so Huang Shaotian puts an extra twist into his wrist on the upstroke and presses the knuckles of his other hand into the bit of skin behind Yu Wenzhou’s balls. It works like a charm. It always does. Yu Wenzhou gasps like he’s been punched and his body tenses. Warmth flows over Huang Shaotian’s hand and he works Yu Wenzhou through it until his cock runs dry.

Only then does Huang Shaotian take care of his own little problem. Or, not so little, in his case. There’s precome smeared against his stomach, a match to the two sets of come already streaked along Yu Wenzhou’s skin. A few short moments later, he's shuddering into his hand, and a third set of come is added to the mess.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he mumbles. “I have the hottest boyfriend, the hottest partner, the hottest captain. Blue Rain’s the best.” He lets his mouth go on autopilot until he catches his breath.

Movement catches the corner of his eye and he cuts himself off mid-word. “Wenzhou?”

Yu Wenzhou’s eyes are open and staring at him. His gaze is hazy, his usually sharp mind muddled from sleep and pleasure. “Shaotian.” He blinks slowly, his eyes squinting over at the blankets that are no longer covering him and then back down to the lines of come on his stomach and chest. Finally, he looks up at Huang Shaotian, still kneeling between his legs. “Did you have sex with me while I was asleep?”

Clambering over his leg, Huang Shaotian lays down beside him. He goes to grab the blanket but thinks better of it when he takes in the sticky mess he made of Yu Wenzhou. A grin breaks across his face. “It was so good, you were so good. So, so good. Have I told you you’re the best at everything? Glory. Scary smiles. Tactics. Sex. Don’t ever stop being you.”

“I don’t plan on it,” Yu Wenzhou says with a sated smile. “I take it you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did, I really did.” Huang Shaotian leans in for a kiss before swiping up a drop of come from Yu Wenzhou’s body and waving it in front of him. “So did you.” He hovers the finger in front of Yu Wenzhou’s lips, delighted when he opens his mouth and lets Huang Shaotian feed it to him. So fucking hot.

“I only did the stuff we talked about,” Huang Shaotian adds.

Yu Wenzhou places a kiss on the pad of his now clean finger. “You don’t have to convince me. I wouldn’t have agreed if I didn’t trust you.”

It should be impossible for the feelings in his heart to grow any larger, but Huang Shaotian can’t be upset at being proven wrong. As much fun as it was to have control over a sleeping Yu Wenzhou, those simple words are even better. Huang Shaotian leans forward, burying his head in Yu Wenzhou’s neck.

There’s a slight pressure against the crown of his head. Yu Wenzhou kissing his hair, he knows without asking.

Eventually, the mess on their bodies is enough to get him moving again. He grabs an old t-shirt from the floor and wipes the worst of it away. It’s not as good as a shower, but they’re not done yet.

“You know what comes next,” Yu Wenzhou says. As usual, he isn’t wrong. It was part of their discussion when they first started talking about trying something new. “Talk to me, Shaotian. Tell me everything you did while I slept. Tell me how it made you feel. Leave nothing out.”

His poor dick is going to fall off at the rate he’s going and wouldn’t that be a tragedy. The thought of recounting it all to Yu Wenzhou—telling him exactly what he’d done and how much he’d liked seeing Yu Wenzhou open and vulnerable under his hands—is enough to make him start getting hard again.

He settles onto Yu Wenzhou’s chest and tells him everything.

#the king's avatar #yuhuang #tka fanfic #me: i'm only gonna write 3 lines tops #me: writes 2k+ words #oops #anyway this was super fun to write #lynne wries fic #full list of tag is at ao3

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lynne-monstr · 5 years ago

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@thorndykechristopher replied to your post “@afincf-tirwer replied to your post “thorndykechristopher replied...”

So say if 🤔 shaotian didn’t have a personal weapon (stele aside), what if 🤔 he grabs a random sword on display in wenzhou’s home/workplace to fight off an intruder 🤔 . It’s a sword that could easily be imbued with magic 🤔 a weapon both sharp and explosive 🤔

Shaotian swings the sword to slice the furniture thrown in his direction and is shocked to see the oakwood table shatter into sharp slivers instead of two halves. There was no time to think about the oddity as his opponent swiftly charges towards him, blocking his sharp claws — and suddenly bearing his dead weight.

“What the fuck?” Shaotian grunts as he shoves the body off of him. He readies his grip to hack of the creature’s head if he needs to, but the injuries on the corpse gives him pause: there are oak slivers sticking out of the body and, from the looks of some of the wounds, buried deep into the body too.

“Huh,” Shaotian says and stares at the sword he grabbed from Wenzhou’s mantelpiece. The blade is emitting an ice-blue sheen as it pulses with what Shaotian knows is Wenzhou’s energy. He bounces a little as he waves it into the air and says with a grin, “I’m definitely telling Wenzhou I’m keeping you, Troubling Rain!”

yu wenzhou freezes when huang shaotian gets to the point in the story about the sword’s kick ass magic. he’s bouncing all over the place, hands waving everywhere as he recounts what happened. his eyes gleam in the dusty beams of sunset filtering in through the window, newly spelled to close the loophole that had allowed this particular intruder to break in while yu wenzhou was oblivious to the world in his workroom.

he pushes aside the crushing wave of guilt in his part of the day’s proceedings. he’d been so certain his wards were impenetrable that he hadn’t thought twice before requesting to borrow huang shaotian’s seraph blade to study how its properties affected certain experimental magics.

huang shaotian had trusted him and it nearly got him killed.

the question of how someone had fooled the wards using a vial of huang shaotian’s blood suddenly took a backseat in yu wenzhou’s mind as the details of the story fully registered in his brain.

“may i see the sword?” he asks.

“it’s not like you have to ask, it’s your sword! of course you can see your sword.” huang shaotian is halfway to the sitting room couch, his words growing louder the further away he gets. he bounds back, unsheathing a blade that makes yu wenzhou’s breath catch.

“what? what’s the matter?” huang shaotian eyes the blade suspiciously but seems hesitant to part with it, even as he asks, “it’s not cursed is it? don’t worry, wenzhou, no cursed blade can defeat me!”

“it’s not cursed.” yu wenzhou smiles the type of fond smile that always seems to slip out when huang shaotian is around. he’s tried to hold it back on more than one occasion but has given it up as a lost cause. he’d prefer not to display his emotions to the world, but the wide, happy grin he so often gets in return is worth the lapse in control. with effort, he wrangles his wandering thoughts back to the issue at hand. “it’s not cursed but it is spelled.”

he holds out his hand, eyes gesturing to the sword. “may i?”

huang shaotian hands it over without protest.

closing his eyes, yu wenzhou lets his magic sweep over the weapon, confirming his suspicions. the magic on the sword is as strong as the day he cast he spell. he opens them again and blinks away the rush of power that always threatens to overwhelm him if he isn’t careful. “it’s an old piece of magic. this weapon is a powerful artifact, and to keep it from being misused, i created a spell that would repel anyone who tried to use it.”

“but i could use the sword,” huang shaotian muses, more to himself than yu wenzhou. he scrunches his nose in way he does when he concentrates on learning a new martial arts move, and not for the first time, yu wenzhou wonders how someone so cute can be so deadly. he doesn’t have time to think on it very long before huang shaotian snaps out of it and races to his side, eyes wide with fear. “there isn’t something wrong with your magic, is there?”

yu wenzhou shakes his head, quick to reassure him. “not at all. my magic is fine.”

the hand on his shoulder releases its death grip and yu wenzhou hides his wince. sometimes huang shaotian forgets his nephilim strength, but he’s hardly going to reprimand him for being concerned. it’s been a long time since one of his bodyguards showed him such care, not just for his safety but for his magic and his well-being and his happiness.

not that huang shaotian is a mere bodyguard. yu wenzhou cares for him with a depth that should scare him and send him running, but instead he only wants to keep huang shaotian closer.

“come on, wenzhou, stop all that deep thinking and mystic warlock shit and spit it out. what’s the deal with the sword? I know that look on your face, you can’t hide from me.”

yu wenzhou laughs, not bothering to deny it. he has no desire to hide, not from the man he loves so fiercely. “there’s nothing wrong with my magic, it’s just....” he trails off, unsure how to say it.

“well....” huang shaotian prompts, practically bouncing on his heels in his impatience.

the only way to say it was to just say it, and so he does. “it was the magic itself that let you have the sword, i had nothing to do with it.”

“i didn’t know magic worked that way.”

“it doesn’t.” yu wenzhou runs a finger along the length of the blade, feeling the magic hum in contentment beneath his touch.

his magic had reached out to huang shaotian completely on its own, had come to his aid when he was in danger and allowed him to save himself. the event is unprecedented but feels right in a way that settles something in yu wenzhou’s chest. his magic chose shaotian, would protect shaotian, even when he himself couldn’t.

on that front, he and his magic are in perfect agreement.

he extends his hand again, this time to return the weapon to its rightful place. “the magic chose you, shaotian. the sword will make you stronger, moreso than you’d be wielding any other weapon. it’s yours now.”

“no way, no way, no way. i have a magic sword.” the words are barely a whispered afterthought as, eyes wide, huang shaotian wraps his hand around the hilt.

the blade pulses blue with magic, happy to be back where it belongs.

#thorndykechristopher #conversation #do i even need to add the 'this got away from me' tag anymore lol #because yeah #oops #tka sh au #this au keeps growing and i'm okay with that #i'm not saying huang shaotian sleeps with the sword in his bed that first night #except he does #and yu wenzhou is too charmed about it to request a 'no weapons in bed unless we are being kinky' rule #the next night he will put his foot down #he's not sharing their bed with a magic sword #well he is but the only 'magic sword' allowed in their bed is yu wenzhou's dick #sorry i had to go there i couldn't resist #the king's avatar ramblings

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syncogon · 7 years ago

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[QZGS Fic] An Encounter Before the Sunrise

part 2 of my Summer Days of Blue Rain project (part 1 here)

summary: Yu Wenzhou wakes up in the dark hours of the morning, and trains.

note: Like the previous chapter, this one is entirely original fiction and does NOT come from the prequel. This is simply my interpretation of 16-year-old Yu Wenzhou's character; please let me know if you think it’s accurate, and any other thoughts / comments / reactions you have!!

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bz-

Slipping a hand under his pillow, Yu Wenzhou shut off the alarm on his phone. Muffled by the pillow, the vibrations were enough to wake him without alerting his roommate.

He paused for a moment to confirm that the other boy was still breathing slowly and deeply, before carefully climbing out of bed. Using the dim light of his phone to guide him, he changed into his clothes, stuck his phone and wallet in his pockets, and crept out of the room.

As he made his way through the darkened corridors of Blue Rain's headquarters, he checked the time on his phone: 03:05 AM. That gave him about four hours before he had to be back in his room for the morning wake up call. He nodded to himself and kept walking.

The residential wing of the building was separate from all the training rooms, so Yu Wenzhou had to walk a decent distance to reach his destination. Blue Rain's official roster all had special computers in their own rooms in addition to their dedicated training areas, but the trainees had to go to their specific training room if they wanted to use a computer for Glory. The trainees didn't even have individual rooms to themselves, hence Yu Wenzhou's taking extra care not to wake his roommate. Not only would that be rude, it'd only worsen the disdain that he – and, well, everyone else at this training camp – had for Yu Wenzhou.

He stepped through the hallways carefully. Every footfall was as quiet as he could make it, and he strained his ears and eyes to catch any sign of motion, but the area, as always, was still. After all, any reasonable person would be asleep at this hour. And Yu Wenzhou, although fairly reasonable in every other aspect of his life, did not get as much sleep as he probably should.

Actually, this was early even for him. Normally he'd wake up at 4AM, train for as long as he dared, then hurry back to his room before the 7AM wake up call. But waking an hour earlier meant an extra hour for practice; four hours of sleep would suffice for him.

Yu Wenzhou had survived two rounds of selection so far, both barely, both mostly by luck. If he wanted to keep going, he was going to have to make sacrifices. This he decided yesterday, after a particularly brutal training session that seemed almost specifically designed to exploit his terrible handspeed.

Of course, it wasn't like anyone was purposely out to get him; aside from his apparent incompetence, he was unremarkable. Most of those around him – fellow trainees and the training leaders and Blue Rain members – tended to ignore him, save for the occasional mocking comment or pitying look. No, he had no one to blame but himself for his failings, and he was going to fix it no matter what it took.

What would happen if he were eliminated? Would he have to go home? Admit to his family that they were right, that this passion of his wasn't a viable path, that he should have stuck to respectable studies instead of throwing away all his honors and awards to play computer games?

Yu Wenzhou reached the door to the training room wearing a scowl on his face. Distracted by these unpleasant musings, he didn't even notice the light spilling out from the crack under the door until he had half-turned the doorknob.

He leapt back as though burned.

Through some miracle he managed not to shout. But that didn't even matter, because the knob had clattered when he let go, sounding like a shot in the previous silence, and there was no way no one had heard that and someone would be coming any second he had to get away –

After he rounded the corner and paused to catch his breath, the rational side of his brain took over, and he kicked himself for overreacting. The sound hadn't been nearly as loud as he imagined, so the chances that someone outside heard were miniscule. As for the room's occupants… He watched for a tense minute, ready to duck and hide, but when there was no change, he let himself relax.

He let himself think.

It was now – he checked quickly – 3:09. Early hours of the morning, still a long way until even sunrise, let alone the time they trainees had to get up. Presumably whoever was in there, assuming there was someone at all, was a trainee. After all, this was the training room specifically reserved for them training camp members; a true Blue Rain team member would be practicing in their designated training room or in their own bedroom, both of which would have better, newer, faster computers. And others who might have reason to be in this room, like the various staff members employed by the club, certainly wouldn't have reason to be in there at this hour.

The fact that no one had reacted to the doorknob sound suggested that they were wearing a headset and playing Glory, and thus had limited hearing outside of the game. Also, Yu Wenzhou guessed that it was only one person, simply from the unconventional hour and the lack of noise that would indicate some sort of gathering.

So what now?

He should go back if he didn't want to get in trouble, just standing out here like this. Trainees did have a curfew at night – loosely enforced, but punishable nonetheless, and Yu Wenzhou was on thin ice as it were. But with that adrenaline rush just now, he doubted he'd be able to go back to sleep now even if he tried.

Curiosity won out, and he made his way back to the door of the training room. Now that he was listening, he heard something from inside, a voice talking, though it sounded like just one voice. The words were too indistinct to make out, though.

Yu Wenzhou recalled the configuration of the computers in the room. Nearly all of them faced away from the door, so there was a good chance that if he opened the door slowly, he might get to look inside, and see who, exactly, loved Glory so much that they just had to play it at three in the morning.

He held his breath, twisted the doorknob, and slowly cracked it open.

At first, all he saw were the empty computers at the side of the room. He opened the door wider, muscles tense and ready to flee at any sign of movement.

And then he saw the person seated at a computer, facing away from the door, headset on.

A quick scan of the room told him that this was the only person here. And though his back was toward Yu Wenzhou, he recognized the other boy easily. Not just by his distinctively messy hair, but also by how he was loudly muttering and cursing with every click of the mouse and tap of the keyboard, a constant stream of words and taunts and attack names. Without the door in the way, Yu Wenzhou could more clearly distinguish what was being said, but, of course, that didn't really matter.

The talent personally recruited from the game by Blue Rain's captain, the number one in the training camp, the shoo-in for Blue Rain's main roster.

Huang Shaotian.

Yu Wenzhou stood there for an indeterminable amount of time, before eventually shutting the door and walking back toward his room, mind carefully blank. Only when he was back in his bed, safely under the covers, did he allow himself to think over what he had just seen.

Huang Shaotian playing Glory in the early hours of the morning. As always, Yu Wenzhou's mind raced through the implications of this brief encounter.

Yu Wenzhou had taken to practicing in the mornings starting around 4 or 5. The routine had started almost on accident, in fact – he'd woken up one day, unable to fall back asleep, then had wandered around the halls before ending up in front of the door to the training room. He had tried the handle, fully expecting it to be locked like most of the other rooms in the building after hours. But the door had swung open under his touch, then and every time after.

Initially he'd wondered as to why this room, out of all the others, had been left unlocked overnight. Weren't they concerned about someone using or breaking the computers? Yu Wenzhou had eventually stopped worrying about such things, instead dedicating this precious time to extra drills.

Now everything made a little more sense. The club staff definitely had access to records of computer usage, and the computers required a login so it would be obvious who the user was. Yu Wenzhou had assumed that he had gotten away with his early morning practices because the staff wasn't looking too closely at the records.

But maybe they were aware. And maybe they allowed it because their precious prodigy was benefitting from this unlocked-room policy, and it wasn't worth the extra effort to stop this extra trainee. After all, this poor crippled deadlast was destined to fail out soon anyway, right? Who cared what he did?

Yu Wenzhou flipped over in bed so he was lying on his stomach, and clutched his pillow to his face. What did Huang Shaotian need the extra practice for anyway? He was already far beyond the rest of them in terms of skill. Everything always went his way – battles, evaluations, interactions. He was the favorite; he could get away with practically blatant insubordination and rule-breaking.

The image of Huang Shaotian playing just now was crystal clear in his mind. Such a sharp contrast from Yu Wenzhou's experience with early-morning practicing – always with the lights off, the screen brightness as dim as possible, sitting at the computer in the blind spot of the door, headphones awkwardly positioned on his head so that one ear was alert for any indication of someone approaching.

But it wasn't even just the difference in the precautions they took. Huang Shaotian had been practicing, yes, but there was an air of relaxed calm about it all. Even in the midst of his trash-talking, he was stable at his core. It was nothing like the agitated desperation that accompanied Yu Wenzhou's practice sessions.

The fundamental difference was simply this: Huang Shaotian was secure in his abilities. Yu Wenzhou didn't have that luxury.

Yu Wenzhou was squeezing the pillow tighter and tighter, digging his fingernails into the rough fabric. You don't know what it's like, he thought. To run drills over and over until your fingers are numb and your vision is blurry; to suffer insults silently because you can't blame someone for simply speaking the truth; to put all your effort into something and have absolutely nothing to show for it. You don't know. And you'll never have to know.

Fuck you, Huang Shaotian. Fuck you and your natural talent and insane handspeed and godly reflexes.

Yu Wenzhou had buried his face into the pillow to keep any sound – a frustrated yell, a choked sob – from escaping. But he eventually had to lift his head to take a breath, and when he did so, it was a slow and deliberate action.

…Enough, he scolded himself. The self-pity, although emotionally satisfying, was unproductive.

He sighed, forcing himself to uncoil his limbs. He ruthlessly swiped at his eyes before turning over to lie on his back once again and stare at the dim ceiling.

It had been foolish to think that he'd become better than anyone else through sheer hard work and determination. Everyone here was working hard; it was honestly insulting to suggest otherwise. And ultimately, it didn't matter how hard you worked if you never got results for it.

Quite frankly, Yu Wenzhou was never going to surpass anyone. Not like this.

In the midst of this revelation, a voice came to him, drifting up through his memories. Huang Shaotian's voice, loud and fast and brutally direct as always. "Why do you keep trying to do something you're so bad at?"

He'd said this after they'd been paired for a practice one-on-one match. It had in all likelihood been meant as nothing more than a simple insult at the time – give up, there's no point in continuing.

But maybe there was something there, a kernel of wisdom in that barbed question.

Why are you still here?

Because I like Glory.

What do you even like about it?

…

It was silly, wasn't it, liking something he was bad at? Wasn't there the saying, that you couldn't truly enjoy an activity until you mastered it? Could Yu Wenzhou really say that he enjoyed the mechanical aspect of the game, the fluid and rapid motions, the stream of actions and reactions?

…No. True, he'd worked so hard to improve this aspect of his play, and he didn't dislike it as he once might have. But, he could not honestly say that he enjoyed it. So what kept him here, what did he like about this game?

As he pondered this, another memory surfaced, another voice speaking.

"Glory isn't a single-player game." Words of the man known as the Glory textbook, the Battle God, Ye Qiu. And what made Ye Qiu such a formidable player in the first place? It wasn't solely his mechanical skill; plenty of other proplayers would have surpassed him if that were the case.

Mechanical skill accounted for perhaps half of Ye Qiu's ability. The other half came from his skill as a tactician, his ability to read and control the flow of a battle, to play on his opponents' mental weaknesses and oversights. In a game as complex as Glory, this was crucial.

Maybe Yu Wenzhou would never be much use in a one-on-one match. But if he could lay out plans, orchestrate the overall progression of a match, craft opportunities that another player could seize, someone with good eyes and fast hands…

A name and face came to mind immediately. But Yu Wenzhou knew, his level was still far below what would be necessary for a partnership with him.

The boy sighed and shut his eyes. He'd lay off on the frantic handspeed training for now. Instead, he'd focus on the tactics of Glory – studying battles, running scenarios. Practice techniques and combos that didn't require that raw handspeed.

And, moreover, focus on improving his spirit. He'd have to learn to perform under pressure, to ignore distractions, to stay humble after victories and hopeful after defeats, to be as steadfast as an iceberg.

There are always multiple angles of attack. There is always something to be done. Yu Wenzhou refused to let his weakness be the end of his Glory career.

One day, he swore to himself. One day, he would stand up there on the championship podium.

#quan zhi gao shou #qzgs #the king's avatar #tka #mine #writing #fanfiction #summer days of blue rain #spent a really long time on this part but i really liked it tbh

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