The club could invite new-generation experts like Sun Xiang to revitalize it. But what about the king of a generation? He could only bear the wear of time alone, choosing to depart in gloom at such a moment.
He left with grace, but his heart was anything but willing. He still wanted to fight on; he did not feel his career had reached its end. Yet he no longer had a choice. Accept the conditions and stay at the club as a practice partner? On the surface, that seemed like a choice of enduring humiliation for a greater cause, but Ye Xiu saw through it more clearly and more deeply. He knew very well that the club was counting on him being unwilling to accept such an insult, certain he would choose to leave—that was exactly why they offered him this "option." If, against all expectation, he accepted, then the club would simply come up with some other method to force him out.
It was cruel, but for the club, this was merely a business decision, one never mixed with any personal sentiment in the first place. The league had already become heartless through commercialization.
Ye Xiu was not yet at the point of retirement—in fact, even the club understood this. Making retirement the condition was proof that they knew it. They wanted to dump this burden, yet feared that rival competitors might seize the opportunity to pick up a bargain and grow stronger. They would rather see Ye Xiu rot away than let him become an opponent.
Thus, forcing Ye Xiu into retirement became the outcome they desired most, and undoubtedly, they succeeded. Ye Xiu could see through all of this, yet could only follow the script they had written. A desperate struggle where fish die and nets break? He didn't want that, because he still had a road to walk. A year of retirement—this forced choice might well become an opportunity. Take a step back, and the sea and sky open wide! Though this particular step did seem a bit too large...
"It ends here..." When such words scrolled across the projection screen, Ye Xiu finally could not bear to watch any longer. The media had deliberately made the program as sentimental as possible, to the point that someone in the internet café was already audibly sobbing. But when it came to bitterness, nostalgia, and desolation, among all the viewers present, who could compare to him, the person at the very center of it all? Ye Xiu squeezed out of the crowd and fled the café, standing outside the door and letting out a long breath—yet somehow, the sound of sobbing still reached his ears. He turned to look and found it was Chen Guo, hiding alone by the door, her eyes glistening too.
Having noticed each other, it would be awkward not to say anything, so Ye Xiu greeted her: "Boss, having a good cry?"
"You heartless beast, don't you feel anything at all?" Chen Guo said.
"Oh, I feel plenty. That's why I couldn't take it and escaped out here," Ye Xiu said.
"Get lost!" Chen Guo cursed. "Got any tissues?"
Ye Xiu patted himself all over. "Would a cigarette pack do?"
"......"
"I'll go get some." Before the boss could explode, Ye Xiu hurriedly ran back into the café to find tissues.
The sobbing inside seemed even louder now—both men and women. This time, Ye Xiu truly couldn't hold back either, and a sharp pang of sorrow hit him. He knew very well for whom these people were shedding tears, and at the thought, his own eyes couldn't help but grow hot. He rushed to the front desk, grabbed a pack of tissues, dashed out and shoved it into Chen Guo's hands, then turned his back, took out a cigarette and lit one, drawing a deep, hard drag.
"What are you doing? Are you crying too? Need a tissue?" Chen Guo seemed to sense something behind him.
"How could I? Why would I cry?" Ye Xiu turned around, exhaling a puff of smoke right into Chen Guo's face. The sorrowful tears she had just wiped away with the tissue flowed again from the smoke.
Chen Guo waved the smoke away and, unexpectedly, said nothing. She stuffed the pack of tissues back into Ye Xiu's hands and turned back into the café.
Ye Xiu leaned against the door of the café, quietly finished his cigarette, pulled out a tissue and blew his nose with a fierce blast, then strode toward the little restaurant across the street.
By the time Ye Xiu returned to the café with a toothpick in his mouth, looking completely stuffed and satisfied, the memorial screening dedicated to Comrade Ye Qiu had finally ended. But the atmosphere in the café hadn't fully dissipated; quite a few people still had red eyes. Fortunately, most of the crowd was in the same state, so there was nothing to be embarrassed about. It was those like Ye Xiu, perfectly composed, who were easily regarded by everyone as heartless beasts. If you didn't explain that you didn't play Glory, you'd feel too ashamed to even greet anyone.
As for Boss Chen, who knew where she had gone. Ye Xiu went to the front desk to ask the girl there, mainly wanting to know what this special screening was all about.
From her, he learned that whenever there was a Glory match, Happy Internet Café would hold these kinds of live-screening events. There hadn't been any matches scheduled today, but with the major event of Ye Qiu's retirement, the esports channel had rushed to produce this special program, so Happy Café had screened it as if it were a match.
In the past, after such match screenings, everyone would leave with blood boiling, their urge to play surging to unprecedented heights, directly resulting in a packed café and soaring revenue. But after today's event, the Glory players were in a rare emotional slump. Some went straight home to hug their pillows, some rounded up a few friends to drown their sorrows in drink. Of course, some stayed in the café to keep gaming—after all, not everyone could be a Ye Qiu fan, and there would always be those indifferent to his retirement. Still, under the influence of the overall atmosphere, even they were somewhat affected; though they kept playing, they did so listlessly.
The entire Happy Internet Café seemed very quiet. At any other time, the Glory players would absolutely be wearing their headsets, chatting away or shouting wildly—the place would be buzzing with noise.
Ye Xiu was just pondering what to do when he saw Chen Guo coming down from the second floor, and hurriedly went up to greet her: "Boss, do I officially start work today?"
"Fine," Chen Guo said. "But now that you're officially working, you can't just sit anywhere. You'll need to stay by the front desk."
"Can I play games?"
"Yes, use that one." Chen Guo pointed at the computer the desk girl was currently using to watch a Korean drama.
"What about smoking?" Ye Xiu asked.
Chen Guo gave him a look and nodded reluctantly. "Fine, smoke. But when I come over in the morning, there'd better be no smell of smoke and no ash on the floor."
"Understood," Ye Xiu said.
After that, Chen Guo taught Ye Xiu how to log customers on and off, and finished by saying: "Actually, at this hour it's mostly overnight customers, all booked before 11 PM. The machines shut off automatically at 7 AM, so there's basically nothing for you to do—just stay at your post. If a customer needs something, they'll ring the bell."
"What if a machine malfunctions?" Ye Xiu asked. He wasn't a technological illiterate, but he didn't have the skills to fix breakdowns either.
"Restart it," Chen Guo said.
Ye Xiu wiped his sweat. "And if restarting doesn't work?"
"Switch machines," Chen Guo said.
Ye Xiu wiped his sweat again and was about to ask more when Chen Guo cut him off: "You're on the night shift, so there are plenty of empty machines—switch as you please. But you need to write down whatever's wrong with the machine, and specialized staff will deal with it the next day."
"Oh, got it." Ye Xiu nodded.