Huayu: Starting from retirement, sweeping across the domestic entertainment industry

Chapter 222 In eSports, Strength is King

When Li Ran came out of the shower, Liu Haocun was still watching on his tablet.

He sat down next to her, glancing at the interview she was watching. The interview featured a rookie player wearing a team uniform with the familiar team logo embroidered on his chest.

The man's face was tense as he faced the camera, his speech halting and stammering. He laughed halfway through answering a question, then felt embarrassed, scratched his head, and looked utterly endearing.

"I know that," Li Ran said. "Last year, a rookie who had just joined the LPL held the microphone upside down during his first post-match interview."

Liu Haocun turned around with a smile, looking at him with a hint of curiosity in his doe-like eyes, and asked, "And what about you? What was your first post-match interview like?"

Li Ran thought for a moment, a slight smile playing on his lips, and uttered a single word: "Forget."

He really forgot.

It's not that I have a bad memory, it's that I feel those things aren't worth remembering.

But what he didn't say was that he remembered his first time in his previous life, the LPL in 16, a year earlier than in this life.

When he first stood in front of the camera for a post-match interview, his palms were sweaty. He answered whatever the host asked him, and even blurted out some of the team's tactics.

At that time, he wanted to win so badly, he wanted to prove himself so badly, and he wanted to show everyone everything he had.

Later, that interview was captured by fans and turned into a GIF with the caption "The most honest person in esports," but he never explained it.

Liu Haocun, of course, had no idea what he was thinking. He just glanced at him sideways with a slightly suspicious smile on his lips.

"Hehe, I could have found it myself if you hadn't told me." She lowered her head and tapped the tablet a few times with her fingers. The screen changed, and his name appeared in the search bar.

She clicked on the top video and held the tablet between the two of them.

In the video, 19-year-old Li Ran stands in the post-match interview area, relaxed, holding a microphone as if it were something very light.

The host threw questions at him one after another, and he answered them calmly and skillfully, each one of them a success.

He even had the energy to make jokes—when the host asked him what he thought of his opponent's performance, he said, "They were pretty good, but not as good as me."

What kind of girls does Burn like?

"Someone like you—"

After reading it, Liu Haocun gave him a disgruntled look. "Did you forget? Or do you just not want to say?"

Li Ran helplessly spread his hands, "It didn't say anything, but you insisted on looking for it."

Liu Haocun persisted, pointing at the host on the screen who had been teased by Li Ran.

"This hope Ran, you really didn't date her?" Her doe eyes narrowed, carrying a hint of "confess and you'll be treated leniently" warning.

Li Ran shook his head.

"No. Before I met you, my only object of affection was coconuts."

Liu Haocun stared at him for a few seconds, his gaze sweeping over his face as if to confirm whether he was lying.

She looked away, snorted, but the corners of her mouth curved up.

"But you're really good at flirting with girls. No wonder every girl who's had even a little contact with you has rumors about you."

Li Ran leaned back on the sofa, his posture relaxed.

"Of course," he said, a smile playing on his lips. "As everyone knows, I'm very affectionate towards dogs."

Liu Haocun was amused by his serious, narcissistic demeanor.

"Heh, do you think I'm complimenting you?"

Li Ran neither dodged nor refuted; he simply smiled.

He reached out, took the tablet from her hand, and placed it on the coffee table.

"Alright, stop watching, there's more to see tomorrow."

The next morning, Li Ran moved a folding chair and sat next to the assistant director, the two of them staring at the monitor screen.

On camera, Jia Bing and Zhang Linghe are having a scene together in a dormitory. There is no arguing, no lines being spoken, only suppressed and restrained emotions flowing through their voices.

Zhang Linghe sat on the edge of the bed with his head down. Jia Bing stood in front of him, holding a thermos cup, unscrewing it and screwing it back on, as if he was hesitating about what to say.

Neither of them spoke, but the silence itself created a tension—one was waiting for comfort, and the other didn't know how to offer it.

Li Ran looked at the monitor, his brows furrowing slightly.

He turned his head and whispered something in the assistant director's ear.

The assistant director paused for a moment, then nodded and shouted "Cut!" into the walkie-talkie.

Li Ran stood up and walked to Zhang Linghe and Jia Bing.

Zhang Linghe looked up at him, his expression still carrying a hint of resentment from the play, not completely concealed.

Jia Bing looked at him, still clutching the thermos in his hand.

"Ling He, your dissatisfaction with Burn's decision isn't just disagreement, it's a lack of trust," Li Ran said slowly.

Zhang Linghe paused for a moment, frowned, and thought for a while.

"Wasn't the captain's initial attitude towards Burn a fear that it would affect his position in the team?" He was referring to the first training room scene, where his gaze and the word "welcome" conveyed a sense of scrutiny, a fear that the new jungler would steal his thunder.

Li Ran shook his head.

He squatted down to be at eye level with Zhang Linghe, so that when they talked, one of them wouldn't have to look up and the other down, making them look like teammates rather than a senior talking to a junior.

"That's just the surface of the character in the script. The captain is a player who has fought in the LPL for three years and has always been the core of the SK team."

He spoke slowly, but every sentence was like analyzing a game that had already been played, reviewing it, identifying problems, and finding areas for improvement.

"But now the team has undergone a complete overhaul, the core players have started to shift to the bottom lane, and Burn has started to fight for control again. Although he is resentful, he still desires victory in the end."

Jia Bing listened from the side, seemingly lost in thought.

He's been acting in comedies for so many years and is used to using exaggerated expressions and actions to create laughs, but this movie doesn't need that.

What he needs is to take in everything, to capture all the helplessness, struggles, and heartache for the players that a coach feels in those eyes.

"I understand what Li Ran means." Jia Bing nodded, looking at Zhang Linghe. "Zhang and I will rehearse our lines again."

The two walked to a corner, and Jia Bing put down the thermos he was holding, put his hands in his pockets, and relaxed a bit more than before.

Zhang Linghe stood opposite him, stretched his shoulders, took a deep breath, and then nodded.

They began to rehearse their lines in hushed tones, one line after another. Li Ran couldn't hear what they were saying, but she saw Zhang Linghe's expression slowly change from that tense "I need to prove myself" look to a deeper, more repressed "I want to win, but I don't know how."

"Scene 6, shot 2—" The production assistant's voice echoed across the set.

Everyone fell silent.

The camera zooms in, the lights come back on, and the assistant director behind the monitor stares at the screen, his finger resting on the walkie-talkie.

Li Ran stepped back to the monitor, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed, but his gaze never left the small screen.

Inside was a replay of the scene that had just taken place.

"start!"

The atmosphere in the training room was as tense as a string about to snap.

The screens of the five computers were still lit, with the word "Failure" prominently displayed in the middle of the settlement screen.

Zhang Linghe leaned back in his gaming chair, gripping the mouse tightly in his hand. His eyes were fixed on the screen, but unfocused.

Zhai Xiaowen sat next to him, head down, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the keyboard, tap, tap, tap, like some kind of anxious timekeeping.

Hu Xianxu remained silent, huddled in his chair, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Zhang Linghe spoke first.

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an barely suppressed accusation: "Why did you go in that bot lane fight?"

He stared at Zhai Xiaowen, his gaze like a knife. "The enemy jungler is nearby, you have no vision, what makes you think you can kill him?"

Zhai Xiaowen raised his head, his lips moved but he didn't speak, then lowered his head again.

He wasn't afraid to argue; he admitted he had been careless that time. But if he had had Flash, he was confident he could have turned the tables and gotten a kill.

Zhang Linghe then turned his gaze to Li Ran.

"And you, in the last team fight, I told you to retreat, why did you insist on stealing that dragon? Even if you did, so what? We lost the team fight, we lost the dragon, it was all over in one fell swoop."

Li Ran didn't speak. His expression was calm, even a little indifferent, as if he wasn't listening, or as if he was listening but too lazy to respond.

The gaming chair spun around and then back, its posture as relaxed as a cat sunbathing.

If they hadn't contested the dragon, they wouldn't have been able to defend their base either; if the enemy had taken the dragon, it would have been a one-shot deal.

But if he manages to steal the dragon, he can stall until the bottom lane duo respawns, and there might still be a chance.

Zhang Linghe was completely enraged by his nonchalant attitude.

He stood up, the chair was pushed aside, the wheels slid a distance, and the sofa chair made a screeching sound.

"Do you even realize that because of your actions, all our previous efforts have been wasted!"

He knew in his heart that he had made a mistake in his decision-making, but he didn't want to admit it. Instead, he wanted to use his captain's aura to intimidate the new jungler.

Wang Junkai spoke up at this moment, looking at Zhang Linghe with no mercy in his tone.

"After playing for so many years, you still haven't made it to the World Championship. Do you really think you're a senior player?"

He leaned back in his chair, glancing sideways at Zhang Linghe. "Esports is about skill, not just playing for a long time."

Zhang Linghe's face turned completely cold.

He stared at Wang Junkai, his chest heaving, his lips pressed into a thin line.

He wanted to refute, but didn't know what to say. Because part of what Wang Junkai said was true.

He has indeed never entered the world championships, he has no outstanding achievements, and in this circle where results determine success, his words carry little weight.

He opened his mouth, but something seemed to be stuck in his throat, and he couldn't squeeze out a single word.

Wang Junkai, not one to back down, continued to deliver the blow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Last year, if it weren't for you letting the opponent seize the opportunity in the last game, would we have failed to make it to the World Championship?"

The training room fell silent for a moment.

That silence wasn't stillness; it was suffocation.

Everyone stared at Zhang Linghe, watching his face turn from cold to white, and then from white to ashen.

His hands were trembling, not from fear, but from anger.

But he didn't react, because he knew that a loss was a loss, and taking the blame was taking the blame; explanations were useless.

Nobody listens to your explanations; they only care about the results.

Li Ran then moved. He stood up, pressed down on Wang Junkai's shoulder with a force that was neither too light nor too heavy, as if it were a reminder or a warning.

"Alright."

Wang Junkai glanced at him, his lips moved, but he didn't say anything more. He leaned back in his chair, turned his head away, and stopped looking at Zhang Linghe.

Jia Bing stood to the side, watching all this, unsure of what to say.

His lips moved several times, but in the end he just sighed.

"Alright, that's enough arguing." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an air of authority that said, "I'm the coach, and what I say goes."

He glanced at Zhang Linghe and said, "Linghe, come out with me for a moment."

Zhang Linghe stood up, and the chair was pushed away again. This time, there was no harsh sound; it just slid silently to the side.

The training room fell silent again.

Zhai Xiaowen and Hu Xianxu exchanged a glance, then looked away.

Wang Junkai leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed, seemingly lost in thought.

Li Ran sat down, placed his hands on the keyboard, and tapped lightly a few times without pressing any keys, as if confirming something or familiarizing himself with something.

Inside the team's dormitory, Zhang Linghe sat on the edge of his bed, leaning against the bedpost, clutching a half-empty energy drink bottle in his hand.

Jia Bing stood in front of him, put the thermos on the table, pulled out a chair and sat down, placing his hands on his knees, looking like an elder who didn't know how to start a conversation.

"Ling He, don't take it to heart, that's just Xiao Kai's temper."

Zhang Linghe did not reply.

Jia Bing lowered his head and looked at his hands. His fingers were short and thick, and his nails were neatly trimmed.

Jia Bing has played many roles, comedic, serious, shrewd, and honest, but this time is different.

He plays an e-sports coach, not the kind who stands on stage drafting and banning, dressed in a suit and tie, strategizing and planning, but the kind who stays up all night with the team members, orders takeout for them, takes the blame when they lose, and stands in the corner when they win.

As a coach, he's also having a headache right now.

They haven't even played a single official match, yet a training game has already created rifts among the players. How can they even compete anymore?

The two bot laners are both newcomers, around 18 or 19 years old, and are Challenger 1000 MMR players in the Korean server. They consistently dominate the rankings, carrying every game in ranked matches, and can even crush professional players in lane.

They have strong self-confidence and believe that operation can solve all problems.

The top laner and jungler are both prodigies who fought their way up from the secondary league last year. One of them was even the runner-up in last year's World Championship, and the other is his twin star. Their synergy was forged through two years of playing together in the secondary league.

Li Ran even joined last year's ticket-buying team out of brotherhood.

They were also eighteen or nineteen years old, proud and arrogant.

All four were young, each believed they were right, and each thought their approach would win.

Sitting in the middle of them was the 24-year-old captain, already considered a veteran in the e-sports circle.

Twenty-four years old.

While they're still fresh out of school in other industries, they're already at retirement age in the esports world.

Zhang Linghe raised his head and looked at Jia Bing.

His eyes were slightly red, but there were no tears, only a defiant and stubborn light.

"Coach, I know they are all esports geniuses, and each of them is highly regarded." His voice was a little tense, like a string that had been stretched for too long finally trembling.

"But am I the same? Didn't I lead SK step by step into the LPL and into the playoffs?"

His tone conveyed grievance, resentment, and a sense of loneliness, as if saying, "I've done so much, but no one has seen it."

Jia Bing did not answer immediately.

He reached out and patted Zhang Linghe's shoulder, his palm landing on the black team uniform with a gentle, unhurried touch, like a silent comfort.

He looked into Zhang Linghe's resentful eyes for a few seconds, then spoke, his voice even softer.

"Xiao Zhang, I know you also want to win the game and prove yourself—"

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing as if he were swallowing something.

"Calm down. Calm down."

The room fell silent. Zhang Linghe looked down at his hands, those hands that had gripped the mouse tightly in countless late nights, battling in the Rift and carrying SK from the secondary league all the way to the LPL.

But he had never felt so helpless, as he did now, that he couldn't hold onto anything.

"This one is approved."

""

"Card"