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Wu Xuefeng was not a good liar.
He had spent most of his life disliking dishonesty, so of course he’d never practiced it. Who would’ve thought he’d one day actually need to tell lies, somewhat regularly?
But he wanted to be a good vice-captain, and this is what his captain needed support in.
So.
He lied.
“He left already,” he tells the people who swarm to the player booths.
They hadn’t been expecting this kind of vehemence from the fans, so they weren’t prepared. The booth door was even shoved a little open, but it showed nothing more than an empty seat in front of the computer Ye Qiu had used to play.
The fans, disappointed, left.
“That was the most awkward thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Ye Qiu said, crawling out from underneath the table.
Wu Xuefeng grimaced.
From then on, Wu Xuefeng made sure to research the layout of every venue they were going to play at, looking over it with Ye Qiu before match day to familiarize themselves with escape routes ahead of time. The problem was, many venues didn’t have convenient escape routes from the stage. It wasn’t like they were designed for a disappearing act.
Wu Xuefeng sighed. The Pro Alliance was just barely off the ground. They didn’t even have airtight security for the preparation rooms, let alone discreet exits for stages that were designed for fans to get a look at the players.
There was simply no way Ye Qiu would be able to dodge everyone alone.
They walked out of the preparation room together, both in incriminating Excellent Era team jackets, to come face-to-face with a wide-eyed reporter who should not be there.
“Aren’t you the vice-captain of Excellent Era? So this, isn’t this—” He was practically salivating with excitement.
“Someone from the training camp,” Wu Xuefeng finished calmly. “We can’t give out the names of minors, you understand.”
The reporter deflated. “Right, of course…”
Standing in the doorway across from them, Lin Jie’s jaw dropped.
“Excellent Era…doesn’t even have a training camp,” Lin Jie said dazedly, once they'd ushered the reporter out. “Right? Did that change?”
“Nope,” said Ye Qiu. “That reporter must be terrible at his job.”
“Did you just…lie?” Lin Jie was staring at Wu Xuefeng, utterly flabbergasted.
Wu Xuefeng groaned. “Yes. It was terrible.”
“It really was.” Ye Qiu’s eyes were bright with humor. “Someone from the training camp, really. How does anyone ever believe you?”
“I am trying, Ye Qiu. It’s not like you need to lie all the time. I’m sure you’d be much better at it.”
Ye Qiu looked incredibly amused. “Hm, yeah. I definitely would be.”
The thing was, Wu Xuefeng really wasn’t a lying kind of person, and everyone knew it. He was usually calm and casual, but morally upright in the kind of unimpeachable way that could make anyone feel comfortable talking to him.
For this reason, even those who didn’t personally know him found it hard to doubt his word.
“He got sick, so he had to leave first.”
“Oh…okay.” The reporter looked disappointed, but didn’t ask anything else before walking away.
“Being sick gives me the ability to teleport?” Ye Qiu asked from the shadows at the top of the ladder.
“Any time you feel like pitching in here, please, feel free.”
“He’s not here,” Wu Xuefeng said, seconds after the match ended.
“Really?” The fan looked at him with extreme skepticism. “I’ve been watching the booths the whole time, none of them have opened yet.”
“Of course you wouldn’t see the door open. This venue decided to airlift him out.”
“What.”
“Well, you know how Tyranny is.”
The fan did not, in fact, know how Tyranny was. Wu Xuefeng gestured helpfully at Han Wenqing, whose expression after losing the match was thunderous.
“Right, right. Well, I’ll just be going then.” The fan scurried away as if Han Wenqing would turn that towering rage on him if he stayed even a second longer.
Wu Xuefeng exhaled heavily. This venue was way too annoying, no secondary exits or hidden corners at all. What kind of excuse was he supposed to give?
“Wu Xuefeng.”
“Yes?”
“There are people here under the impression that we are protecting Ye Qiu’s position with a literal tiger.”
“…Yes.”
“Explain.”
There really wasn’t any saving this one. “I panicked, okay? And no one ever questions it in Tyranny’s stadium. It’s fine, right?”
Han Wenqing stared at him for a long, awkward moment.
“Don’t get too wild with it,” he finally replied.
“Believe me, I’m not trying to,” Wu Xuefeng said, somewhat aggrieved.
Han Wenqing believed him.
Wu Xuefeng was about to enter the team waiting room when the reporter appeared.
“Ye Qiu is inside already, right? He clearly left the stage before the rest of the team.”
“He did, but Wei Chen took him out for a smoke in place of the post-match greeting. Terrible habit, you know. Very consuming.”
“But…I just came from the other room, and Wei Chen was there,” the reporter said, confused.
“Wow, he came back already? He should probably ease up, if he’s going through cigarettes that fast.”
“Does that mean God Ye Qiu is just outside?” The reporter didn’t even wait for his answer before excitedly darting off.
Wu Xuefeng shook his head and walked into the room.
“I could hear you disapproving of my life choices, you know,” Ye Qiu told him.
“I do know, but thanks for clarifying,” he said placidly.
“Sure, anytime.”
Zhang Jiale’s first impression of Wu Xuefeng had been pretty bland. He told Sun Zheping he was “a person” because he couldn’t think of anything better to say.
“He’s my cousin,” Wu Xuefeng told the disappointed reporter, of Ye Qiu’s retreating figure.
Zhang Jiale found that, for all Sun Zheping’s warnings and reminders, he’d still somehow severely underestimated Wu Xuefeng.
“They don’t even look alike,” he told Sun Zheping later. “They don’t even look alike.”
Sun Zheping was silent in shock.
“But this is the only ladder down!” Perhaps by virtue of being smaller than most, this fan had somehow managed to get all the way up to the stage without being noticed.
“Right, so he jumped off the stage.”
The girl looked startled. “Really? Isn’t it kind of high for that?”
“Ye Qiu is pretty good at parkour when he needs to be.”
“Wow…” The girl had stars in her eyes.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but he’s really already gone,” Wu Xuefeng said sincerely.
“Oh, that’s fine! Sorry to bother you, I’ll just go now.” The girl left without any more trouble.
Wei Chen, standing just behind where the girl had accosted him, was staring.
“Did you know,” he finally asked Wu Xuefeng, “that we all thought you were a goody-two-shoes? Fuck, lying right to her face like that. I feel like I don’t even know you.”
Wu Xuefeng turned to look him dead in the eye. “It was almost physically painful. Please help.”
“No way, I’m not getting involved with this,” Wei Chen immediately denied.
“Just a list of common lies or something. Please. You’re good at this kind of thing, right?”
“I definitely am,” Wei Chen agreed shamelessly. “But why should I help you?”
“It’s for Ye Qiu! Think about it, he’s so, uh…small…and innocent…”
Wei Chen grimaced. “You really can’t lie for shit, can you? That hurt to listen to, like an actual assault on my ears. This is practically extortion. I’m going to have to give you a list of better lies out of sheer self-defense.”
Wu Xuefeng didn’t know how his life could have come to this, but he wasn’t going to bother questioning it. “Thank you.”
“The captains all have their own way of getting offstage,” Wu Xuefeng told the fan.
“Ugh, that figures.” She walked away without another word.
Sun Zheping looked on with wide eyes. He was literally standing right there, how could she not have noticed?
“It’s just like his playstyle,” he told Zhang Jiale in their preparation room. “You overlook him and overlook him, and then suddenly he’s already gotten away with it. Incredible.”
Zhang Jiale nodded along seriously. He couldn’t agree more.
“That is a lot of people,” Ye Qiu said to Wu Xuefeng after their second championship-winning match.
“I set up a second ladder in the back corner of the stage on the left.”
“Oh, nice.”
“If you have enough confidence you can get away with anything,” Wu Xuefeng told Sun Zheping.
“Are you trying to convince some poor soul you actually know how to lie?”
“Unless you have Ye Qiu with you,” Wu Xuefeng continued blandly. “Ye Qiu is the anti-bluff. If you really want people to believe you, make sure Ye Qiu doesn’t feel like commenting on any part of your interaction, first.”
Ye Qiu leaned against him and laughed.
“What would I do without you?” Ye Qiu asked from behind Wu Xuefeng.
“I’m sure you’d do just fine, Captain,” Wu Xuefeng said, shifting his weight so he more completely blocked Ye Qiu from sight. “Now get going before someone sees you.”
“I didn’t know Wang Jiexi studied magic either, but Ye Qiu is definitely gone now. It was so generous of him to use his disappearing tricks for us like that.”
Wang Jiexi eyed Wu Xuefeng in the wake of the exodus. “I don’t actually practice magic,” he felt compelled to tell him.
“I didn’t think you did,” Wu Xuefeng replied helplessly. Behind him, Ye Qiu started climbing down the ladder.
Wang Jiexi looked around the now empty hall. “Ah. I see.”
Wu Xuefeng was a calm and sincere man who didn’t seem to have a problem with anyone, never getting aggressive. Hardly a deceptive person.
On the other hand, despite years of concerted effort, Ye Qiu had yet to be caught by any reporter or fan.
Wu Xuefeng was not a dishonest man, so he was easy to believe. Even Wang Jiexi thought that Wu Xuefeng had somehow made some kind of honest mistake.
Next to him, Wu Xuefeng and Ye Qiu conversed with the casual air of unimportant people.
Truly, a well-matched pair of formidable opponents.
At the end of season 3, Fang Rui was practicing to be a Qi Master in Blue Rain’s training camp. Of course, if you wanted to talk about Qi Masters, you need look no further than three-time champion Excellent Era’s vice-captain, Wu Xuefeng. Fang Rui was only a small character in the training camp of Blue Rain, so of course he’d never had the chance to interact with Wu Xuefeng directly. Nevertheless, his do-what’s-necessary playstyle and unshakeable support for his team were an inspiration.
And, most importantly…
Fang Rui once saw a man say “they built a tunnel for him” with a straight face and he knew, he knew—
He wanted to be like that.
“Look into my honest eyes,” says Fang Rui, the player of a Qi Master who stands next to Ye Qiu—Ye Xiu—after all these years.
Somewhere abroad, Wu Xuefeng buries his face in his hands and groans.
