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Ye Xiu woke up after his fourth and final championship victory with a headache.

It was probably to be expected. He’d slept for something like ten hours, and he was probably a little dehydrated, and a lot exhausted. His hands still hurt, and that was enough reason for him to stay in bed for another hour and smoke a bit before getting up, in his book.

When he was finally feeling something like human again, Ye Xiu rolled out from under the covers and faced the day.

This was the beginning of the end.

* * *

Su Mucheng bided her time, and so did Chen Guo, after some convincing. Ye Xiu had been pretty adamant about announcing his retirement as soon as possible; she supposed he wanted to get it over with. But Ye Xiu was also an honest person (outside of Glory) and a fair-minded leader, so naturally the entire team was notified at once, well before the media could catch so much as a whiff of their plans.

Not that the media would ever expect something like this. Ye Xiu, supposedly a has-been of the old age, well past his prime, yet a legend that shone as brightly now as it did back then—he’d proven himself to the world two days ago, and it was insanity to think he’d choose now to retire for real.

Yes…insanity. Ye Xiu’s special brand of logic that could easily pass as madness. Su Mucheng was used to it, for better or worse.

Chen Guo was decidedly not.

“We’re throwing a party for someone who’s probably not even going to appreciate it,” she complained to Su Mucheng pretty much as soon as they were back in Hangzhou. They were in Chen Guo’s living room, for the sake of privacy; the rest of the team was back at the house and grudgingly unpacking.

“It’s not really for him, it’s for all of us, remember?” Su Mucheng asked. Her mood was pretty great despite everything. After all, this had been her first championship victory. “Let’s just decide it now—are we really going to do this, and if so, when?”

Chen Guo seemed a little thoughtful now. “I want to do it, honestly. If anything is worth celebrating, it’s this, and the Christmas party was really fun, even if nobody bothered to give me face and follow directions. We can do it tomorrow night.”

Su Mucheng nodded. “All right, that will give us some time to make preparations. I’ll wake up early and get Tang Rou and Luo Ji on it.”

“Luo Ji?”

“He’s good at organization,” Su Mucheng justified.

“And who would we invite besides the team?”

Su Mucheng gave her a pointed look. “Guoguo, it’s a team celebration.”

“But there are other people who contributed! Like Guan Rongfei and Wu Chen.”

Well. True enough. But— “Guan Rongfei would much rather do anything else, I believe. And Wu Chen is a good sport, he’s not going to want to intrude on this.”

“It wouldn’t be an intrusion, we’d be literally asking him to come.”

“That’s not how he’ll see it.”

Chen Guo let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. You make a good point. I guess I should just give up on making this any bigger than it has to be.”

Su Mucheng rolled her eyes. “If we made it any bigger, we’d need a lot more than a day to set it up.”

“Yeah, yeah. So let’s make a list…”

* * *

Two days after his fourth and final championship victory, Ye Xiu saw a lot of odd behavior from the ladies in the group, as well as from a few other people. Namely Luo Ji, who was acting as if he had another class assignment to finish, even though he technically didn’t have any such obligations at the moment.

Or so he told them. He had a habit of being less than entirely honest about his education.

Ye Xiu decided not to look into it too hard. He was trying to relax and wind down, and even though he still considered these people his team—and probably always would—it would be best if he stayed out of their business. Before, he could claim his minor snooping as a captain’s concern, but he had already expressed his desire to pass the mantle down to Su Mucheng, so they were her problem now.

Except that Su Mucheng seemed to be a part of the problem, currently. If it even was a problem.

Ye Xiu really had no idea what was going on up until Chen Guo announced it in Happy’s group chat.

Guoguo: If any of you have plans for tonight, you better clear them! Because we have a celebration party to go to

Windward Formation: celebration party??

Windward Formation: what kind of celebration party???

Guoguo: A private one, just for us. And no there is not going to be any alcohol. Or smoking

Windward Formation: that’s just cruel

Windward Formation: i have rights

Guoguo: I pay you!

Windward Formation: and i’m very grateful, but i still have rights

Windward Formation: give a retired old man some leeway

Little Cold Hands: Give us less reason to be ashamed of you.

Dancing Rain: Pffff

Soft Mist: [ROFL emoji]

Ye Xiu shook his head at the conversation. He scrolled down a bit further, but everyone seemed to have had their attention diverted from the party and was instead focusing on making Wei Chen regret his decision to join their team. Although, it was a little too late for that, considering they’d already won and Wei Chen had made it clear he was done with the pro scene now.

It was amusing nonetheless. Ye Xiu decided that things were well in hand if Chen Guo wasn’t screaming about it, and resolved to find out what this celebration party would entail later in the day.

* * *

Tang Rou wasn’t exactly a party animal. She was born into high society, so she’d had her fair share of social functions to attend. She knew how non-socialite parties were supposed to work, in theory, because she watched TV and had a working brain. But it wasn’t like she’d ever experienced much of that firsthand. She didn’t know why Su Mucheng and Chen Guo decided to drag her into the party-planning committee.

And why was Luo Ji here, anyway? Because he was a college student? Did he have experience with parties?

Tang Rou asked him about it, and he blushed and said, “Uh, no. I’m not really into that kind of thing.”

“Me neither.”

“Then why are you here?” Luo Ji asked, puzzled.

“I was wondering the same thing about you. And me, honestly.” Tang Rou sighed.

They commiserated in silence for a few seconds.

Then Chen Guo and Su Mucheng came out of the storage room of the apartment—formerly Ye Xiu’s sleeping quarters—with boxes in their arms.

“Here are the board games,” Chen Guo said cheerfully as she dropped her box in the middle of the living room. “And over here is some stuff leftover from our last little get-togethers. I knew they would come in handy someday.”

Su Mucheng set down her box as well and began sorting through the contents. She made a humming noise. “Oh, yeah, there is a lot here. Why did you get so much stuff?”

Chen Guo huffed. “I always expect a big production and yet you all consistently disappoint me. I have more decorations in one of the storage rooms downstairs, but that’s for the café, and honestly I don’t feel like closing up and using the whole floor for this, because I know none of you will appreciate it.”

“We’d already decided to do this at the house, Guoguo,” Su Mucheng reminded her, amused.

“My point still stands.”

“You guys want to have this party at the house, right?” Su Mucheng asked Tang Rou and Luo Ji, who were both sitting on the couch and watching on in confusion.

“Oh,” Lui Ji said. “I guess that would be better for everyone.”

“More comfortable.” Tang Rou nodded along. “And less work. Also, everyone can help clean up afterward.”

“Damn, that’s true,” Chen Guo said, snapping her fingers. “You’re a genius, Rourou.”

Tang Rou smiled. Maybe she could actually be of help here.

“Do you think anyone here even likes board games?” Luo Ji asked, curiously eyeing the box Chen Guo was standing over.

“Who doesn’t like board games? They’re simple and fun,” Chen Guo declared. “Perfect party material.”

“They can also end friendships and initiate wars,” Luo Ji pointed out. “I should know, I’ve lost many a childhood friend to board games.”

“Well, that’s children being children.”

“The most recent loss was a little over a year ago,” Luo Ji said. “Back when I actually had a social life outside of Happy.”

“And it’s bold of you to assume this team isn’t made up of children,” Su Mucheng added.

Chen Guo threw her hands up. “What else are we supposed to do?! Sit around and talk about Ye Xiu’s retirement?”

“Senior Wei is also retiring,” Luo Ji said.

“Everyone expected that. Nobody expected Ye Xiu to up and leave like this. It’s demoralizing.”

“You’re just sad he’s going,” Tang Rou told Chen Guo, not unkindly. “We’re all sad, but let’s just set it aside for tonight, okay?”

“Besides, no one was saying we have to give up on board games,” Su Mucheng said. “We all like games, and we’re all competitive. I’m sure they’ll be a hit.”

“There are cards, too,” Chen Guo said. “We can play Uno.”

Luo Ji stared heavenward. “We’re doomed.”

* * *

Ye Xiu did eventually work up the nerve to investigate the matter of the party. It was already late afternoon when he approached Chen Guo, who had come over to the house to set things up. She was being assisted by Su Mucheng, Tang Rou, Luo Ji, and Steamed Bun. The girls seemed to be in charge of the smaller arrangements while Luo Ji was in charge of Steamed Bun, whose only redeeming quality in this situation was his height.

“Higher. Yes, right there. Just hang it on the hook,” Luo Ji was saying as Ye Xiu slouched into the living room.

“Like this?” Steamed Bun asked.

“No, it’s crooked. Do it correctly.”

“I am!”

“You’re certainly not!”

An argument predictably followed, though it was mild enough that Ye Xiu easily tuned it out. He made his way to the sitting area, where the girls were gathered around the coffee table and apparently sorting out…board games?”

“Ye Xiu!” Su Mucheng exclaimed when she saw him. “Here, do you know how to play Uno?”

Ye Xiu stared at the little box in her hand. “Uh, I think so. It’s been a while. I can look it up.”

“I played it at school, but it was so long ago, I don’t think I remember the rules at all,” Su Mucheng admitted with a mournful expression.

He patted her head.

“I’ve played it sometimes with the café staff, but honestly, I don’t remember much, either,” Chen Guo said.

“Well, you have no excuse,” Ye Xiu told her, “you’re just old and absentminded.”

“Go die!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever played any of these games in my life,” Tang Rou announced, looking over the somewhat impressive spread of games before them.

“Now that’s just sad,” Chen Guo said. “You should have told me, we could have been playing years ago.”

“You wanted to play Glory.”

Chen Guo sniffed. “And how right I was for turning you to that side. But we still could have had some fun.”

“Well, we’ll have a lot of fun with everyone tonight,” Su Mucheng said cheerfully.

Ye Xiu eyed the Monopoly box with no small amount of trepidation. “Sure we will. If we survive.”

“See!” Luo Ji called from the other side of the room. “He agrees!”

“Why is everyone here so dramatic?” Chen Guo groaned.

“Board games are dramatic,” Ye Xiu countered. “I’m just saying, if someone gets maimed, I’m not taking responsibility.”

* * *

When everyone came downstairs to start celebrating or whatever, Fang Rui was lagging behind. On purpose, of course.

“What’s with you?” Wei Chen demanded. “I would have thought you’d be all over this, you little demon.”

“House parties with less than a dozen people always involve board games,” Fang Rui told him. “And I hate board games.”

“Really? I love them.”

Fang Rui huffed. “You would, your existence is completely amoral and wrong.”

“Shut up, don’t be such a killjoy.”

“It’s not the joy that’s going to be killed tonight.”

“What are you two talking about?” An Wenyi asked from ahead of them, glancing over his shoulder suspiciously.

Fang Rui huffed at him, too. “The danger of board games. You’re probably too young to understand.”

“You two are practically the same age,” Wei Chen said.

“We are not,” An Wenyi said.

“Yeah, just because we’re not as old as you doesn’t mean we’re all kids.” Fang Rui smacked the back of Wei Chen’s head. “That said, you should understand the severity of the crisis we’re about to face all too well; how can you be so goddamn okay with it?”

“Well, if it’s not the joy that’s going to be killed tonight, it also sure isn’t going to be me,” Wei Chen said smugly. “I’m going to crush all of you. I dare you idiots to try me at Uno.”

“Being good at Uno isn’t some kind of achievement,” Fang Rui mocked, attempting to hide his alarm. “It’s a simple game.”

“You say that now!”

“They probably won’t even have Uno.” Fang Rui had to comfort himself somehow.

Then they got downstairs, and one of the first things Fang Rui saw—aside from the slightly crooked characters spelling out “Happy Happy Win!” hanging on the far wall, a background to the championship trophy that someone had placed on a pedestal and freely decorated—was Chen Guo waving around a box of Uno cards.

Fang Rui had never encountered someone so reckless in his life. Was that woman asking for death?

“It’s my time to shine.” Wei Chen threw Fang Rui a superior look and all but ran over to Chen Guo, probably straining a muscle in the process.

“What’s with him?” An Wenyi asked, crossing his arms as he surveyed the living room. “Is that cake?”

It was indeed cake, but seeing as they were about to endure devastation the likes of which this world had never before seen, Fang Rui couldn’t care less. And he always cared about cake.

“I hope you’ve written a will or something,” Fang Rui told him, “because we might just be exiting the world of the living tonight.”

An Wenyi raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Luo Ji chose right then to appear, a glass of juice in hand. “Hey! Do those characters look crooked to you?” He pointed at the wall.

“Yes.”

“Yep.”

“Dammit.” Luo Ji turned around and marched over to Steamed Bun.

“What does it matter if the characters are crooked,” Fang Rui muttered to himself. “We’re all gonna die.”

“I think we’re supposed to take pictures over there.”

Fang Rui thought he was already as horrified as he was going to get, but that—that pushed him to new and impossible heights.

“Pictures?” he repeated, the word weighted with dread. “Like, group pictures?”

“Probably.”

“It it too late to sneak back upstairs?”

“…Probably.”

* * *

Ye Xiu and Qiao Yifan stood to one side as Chen Guo and Wei Chen argued about the intricacies of Uno.

“Is this really okay?” Qiao Yifan asked doubtfully.

“Who can say for sure?”

Qiao Yifan gave him a somewhat betrayed glance. “Nobody is going to go to bed angry tonight, right?”

Ye Xiu remembered the last time there was a big fight in the team—it wasn’t anything serious, because they never fought over anything that was actually important, just foisted it off on Ye Xiu or Chen Guo to deal with—and snorted.

“What, afraid to wake up to a ruined breakfast and a drenched kitchen?”

Qiao Yifan grimaced. “We all had to clean that up.”

“It was a team-building exercise. And no grudges were held, as far as I know.”

“I’m pretty sure An Wenyi and Mo Fan got their revenge.”

“Well, that’s just to be expected.”

“Senior…”

“Don’t worry, Yifan,” Ye Xiu said, smiling. “It’s all good. Anyway, where is Mo Fan? He came downstairs, didn’t he?”

“I think he’s hiding in the washroom.”

“Clever, but not clever enough. I’ll go get him.”

Ye Xiu left the budding chaos and walked into the hallway, bypassing the staircase and walking toward a narrow door. He knocked on it and then called out blithely, “Anyone home?”

It took exactly 12 seconds for the door to crack open. A wary eye peered out at him. “What?”

“What are you doing in there?”

“Washing my hands.”

Ye Xiu had to chuckle at that. “Well, you don’t have a monopoly on washing hands. Get out already.”

Mo Fan opened the door wider, his expression subtly sullen in the way it got when he wanted you to know he was displeased, but wasn’t willing to start anything over it. For someone so openly anti-social, Mo Fan didn’t go out of his way to initiate fights. His habit of avoidance manifested in the most charming ways sometimes.

Ye Xiu just smiled at him pleasantly and shouldered his way into the washroom. There was only a toilet and sink in here, so it wasn’t a very large space, but it could fit two people…if those two people stood close together.

Mo Fan apparently decided that the discomfort of physical closeness was better than the discomfort of whatever the hell was happening in the living room and plastered himself to the wall behind Ye Xiu.

Ye Xiu quietly washed his hands, watching Mo Fan in the mirror the whole time. Mo Fan blatantly refused eye contact, a habit as awkward as it was endearing, and waited wordlessly for Ye Xiu to finish.

When he did, Ye Xiu said, “Come on, it’s not that bad out there. No one’s going to eat you.”

Mo Fan just looked at him dubiously. He was clearly unimpressed with the attempt at reassurance.

Ye Xiu sighed. “You can try to cheat at the games. I’m sure you’ll have fun if you just try a little.”

Mo Fan still didn’t say anything.

“If someone tries to hug you, you can steal their cake.”

That finally seemed to convince Mo Fan, because he straightened and said, “Retribution is allowed?”

“Yeah, sure, take all the revenge you need.” Ye Xiu rolled his eyes. He didn’t know how he ended up with such vindictive teammates. “I’m surrounded by snakes,” he muttered.

Mo Fan kindly ignored him as they stepped out into the hallway. But he nonetheless waited for Ye Xiu to walk ahead of him.

Ye Xiu raised an eyebrow.

Mo Fan grunted.

Rather than argue, Ye Xiu just accepted his fate as the eternal buffer and led the way into the danger zone.

* * *

Qiao Yifan had never been to any parties besides the birthday variety and the occasional team get-together, which he had experienced more than a few times spanning his professional career. If he thought of this victory celebration as a “real” party (whatever that was), he would probably become too anxious to function and seek the nearest corner to ride out the worst of it. But if he thought of it as just another team bonding moment, then it was endurable.

Of course, that was before he noticed the board games. And the card games. And the battle that was quickly becoming inevitable as everyone debated what to play and how.

Qiao Yifan was the youngest member of the team, so he was the least experienced with these kinds of games. He was truly the definition of someone born into the digital age, a generally clueless innocent who had no idea of the perils he was about to face.

An Wenyi was sitting on one side of him, Mo Fan on the other. They had taken the couch as soon as they realized that this wasn’t going to blow over that quickly. Around the coffee table, most of the rest of the team was assembled: Su Mucheng, Chen Guo, Fang Rui, Wei Chen, and Steamed Bun. They were all arguing—well, Su Mucheng was more threatening than arguing, really—and Steamed Bun seemed to just be adding fuel to the fire because he certainly had no bone in this fight, the cheerful fool, but it was still…passionate.

Further away, keeping a safe distance at the very peripherals, were Ye Xiu, Tang Rou, and Luo Ji. They were standing together like a wall of reason, watching everything unfold with mostly blank expressions.

Qiao Yifan glanced at the two people on either side of him. An Wenyi and Mo Fan also seemed to be determined to pretend that none of this was happening.

“This is a stupid rule! If we include it, nobody is ever going to win.”

“It’s not stupid, it’s fun!”

“What about the nine card thing? You know, where everyone slams their hand down when you stack a nine on top of another… Yeah, I think that’s how it works.”

“No, I hate that. My hands will be crushed, and I need my hands.”

“Well, if this goes on, we’ll never agree on anything. Let’s just roll the dice.”

“Where the fuck is there dice? I don’t see any dice.”

“Hold on.”

With mounting horror, Qiao Yifan watched as Chen Guo got out the Monopoly box and cracked it open. He had never played Monopoly, he didn’t think, but he knew well enough that it was not the kind of game conductive to maintaining friendships.

Then he shook himself. He wasn’t scared of some board game, and he wasn’t scared of this team falling apart in one night. It wasn’t as if their bonds were that fragile, right? They all knew how to get along and move past their differences. No matter what happened, they would wake up in the morning as usual and all transgressions would be forgiven and forgotten.

…Okay, maybe that last part was an exaggeration. There were people in this team that were capable of such magnanimity, but lord knew the rest were as petty as they come.

Qiao Yifan side-eyed the people he was sitting with. Just his luck to be caught between them. How could he have allowed this to happen?

Before anyone could get any ideas, Chen Guo had already put Monopoly away and was back to fighting for Uno rights. It was more than a little frightening to see their boss so angry. She was not really the kind of person you wanted to be in the vicinity of when she inevitably blew her fuse.

Qiao Yifan glanced uncertainly in Ye Xiu’s direction. Was he going to step in and stop this madness before it could devolve further…? But then they’d just have to argue over the rules of some other game…

Well, regardless, Ye Xiu didn’t make a move to interfere. Luo Ji seemed almost impressed with the show, and Tang Rou had gone from carefully blank to carefully entertained.

Then Su Mucheng decided to withdraw from the running, pulling Steamed Bun along with her—thank goodness someone here had common sense—and left the three remaining to battle to the death.

Predictably, things just went downhill from there.

* * *

Ye Xiu didn’t have even the slightest desire to participate in this nonsense, not when he’d already endured so much bickering that his blood pressure had risen just from listening, but he admitted that he was too competitive to let the team play without him.

In the end, all eleven of them gathered around the coffee table, squished together to fit.

“Okay, these are the rules,” Wei Chen announced loftily.

Uno was indeed a simple game, and the basic rules were just that—basic, and almost exceedingly straightforward. What made it more interesting were the other rules you could tack on.

Wei Chen listed just three, because there were a lot of first-timers here and nobody wanted to get too confused. Not to mention it would take even longer for Steamed Bun to finally get it.

They started off with an instructional round, Chen Guo claiming that it didn’t matter who won this time and they’d only start keeping a tally in the next round.

Steamed Bun won, for some reason. Ye Xiu put it down to luck.

Then Steamed Bun won the first official round, and the next, and the next…

Everyone was getting twitchy by the time of the fifth round.

“What the hell, Steamed Bun.” Wei Chen muttered a bunch of curses under his breath as he distributed cards. “Can you give this old man some face?”

“And here I thought you’d crush us at Uno,” Fang Rui taunted.

“Did he say that?” Su Mucheng asked absently.

“Oh, yeah. He was bragging about his skill.”

There followed a collective rolling of the eyes. Ye Xiu didn’t know what else they expected from Wei Chen.

“I can crush you all! Steamed Bun is just lucky.”

“I’m very lucky,” Steamed Bun agreed. “It’s a talent.”

“Right,” Ye Xiu said before anyone could tackle the kid and strangle him to death in their brightly decorated living room. “You’re very talented, but somebody else has got to win eventually.”

“I’ll win at least three times before the night is out,” Tang Rou promised.

“If I could win once, that would be fine,” Qiao Yifan said.

Chen Guo made a disappointed noise. “Aim a little higher, would you? You’ll upset us.”

“Sorry…?”

“I should win more than once,” Luo Ji said, squinting at the cards in his hands. “I’m sure I can apply math to this. Once I figure it out, it’s over for you guys.”

An Wenyi snorted softly. “It’s good to have dreams. The rest of us can also do math, you know.”

“But can you do math like me?” Luo Ji said with a daring grin. “I don’t think so.”

Ye Xiu eyed Luo Ji suspiciously. “Did someone slip him something?”

“No, I’m just in my element.”

“You’re behaving very out of character,” Su Mucheng told him. “Are you sure you weren’t sabotaged or something?”

“Sabotage is allowed?” Mo Fan asked.

“No!” several people shouted at once.

Fang Rui wiped some imaginary sweat from his brow. “This is getting tense. Let’s just start.”

“I go first!” Steamed Bun said cheerfully.

“No, let someone else go first,” Wei Chen demanded. “Maybe we’ll break the curse like this.”

The curse was not broken.

* * *

Luo Ji was not having a good time.

He decided, ultimately, not to apply math to Uno, because it seemed like a waste of effort. If Steamed Bun could win, then he could, too; it wasn’t rocket science.

But after Steamed Bun won for the eighth consecutive time, everyone just threw down their cards and gave up. Literally no one looked happy—besides Su Mucheng, that is, because her even temper was apparently so powerful that not even this bullshit could put a dent in it.

Su Mucheng was scary, honestly. Luo Ji didn’t know if he should look forward to her as captain.

Speaking of captains, Ye Xiu was probably the only other person who seemed completely unbothered by the tragic sequence of events that began the moment Chen Guo called everyone downstairs. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but his expression was placidly tolerant as always, and he lazily returned any jabs aimed at him with as much casual wit as the halfhearted insults called for.

And then there was Steamed Bun, who was obviously very self-satisfied. It was obvious because he wouldn’t stop rubbing his win streak in everyone’s faces.

Luo Ji was going to smother him in his sleep. Just grab a pillow and go to town. Then he would never have to look at that annoying face again and could finally live in peace.

He took another sullen bite of his cake. Sitting in the chair next to him, Mo Fan was eyeing Steamed Bun’s plate like he was trying to calculate how long it would take to cover the distance between them and upend the entire thing into Steamed Bun’s face.

That would honestly go a long way in making Luo Ji feel better. He decided he would not stand in Mo Fan’s way—not that he would ever consider that to begin with. He knew exactly what Mo Fan was capable of when truly peeved.

Eight consecutive wins by that idiot would leave anyone peeved.

Then Ye Xiu took the chair on Mo Fan’s other side and pleasantly said, “Now, now, I know it’s tempting, but he won fair and square.”

“What are you talking about?” Chen Guo asked from the other side of the table.

“I’m teaching Mo Fan how to lose gracefully.”

“Don’t teach him something useless like that,” Wei Chen protested. “Kid, don’t ever lose gracefully. Lose sorely. Curse them, flip them off, spit in their food. Then win in the most humiliating way possible and remind them of their place.”

“Humiliating for them or for you?” Tang Rou asked humorously.

“For them, of course.”

“Old Wei gives bad advice,” Fang Rui said. “No one should listen to him ever. Case in point: playing Uno.”

“Don’t say it,” Wei Chen grumbled sullenly. “Uno is the forbidden word. If I hear it from any of you, I will spit in your food free of charge.”

“But what do we do now, then? Is the party over?” An Wenyi demanded.

Chen Guo slammed her hand down. “The party is not over. There are still other games. There’s still Monopoly.”

“It’s come to this,” said Su Mucheng.

Luo Ji put his head in his hands. Not even cake could fix this.

* * *

Monopoly was, predictably, a mistake. After the second round ended in death threats and a broken glass, Ye Xiu pulled rank.

“Put it away,” he said. “I am not dealing with this.”

“But—“

“No.”

* * *

Steamed Bun was having a great time.

He had established a godly win streak in Uno. He had managed to get himself three whole slices of cake without anyone noticing. He had almost made grown men cry in Monopoly.

He was awesome. Awesomely lucky, but also just awesome in general.

Boss was eyeing him. “You should wipe that grin off your face, Steamed Bun. You’re on several hit lists at this point. You don’t want to get your name on any more.”

Steamed Bun was always on several hit lists, because everyone on this team was a sore loser outside of Glory.

“I’m good, Boss, thanks,” he said earnestly, because Boss was genuinely concerned for his wellbeing, he could tell. Boss was a good sort of man.

An Wenyi, who was sitting closest to him, glanced over at that. His eyes swept up and down Steamed Bun’s body like he was contemplating the best place to stab.

Boss smoothly inserted himself between them, a placid smile on his face. Steamed Bun had no idea when Boss had set his plate down. They were having another food break to calm down, and nobody was above stealing each other’s snacks. Boss was a brave man.

That was why Steamed Bun had chosen to follow him.

“He’s safe for now,” An Wenyi conceded when Boss stared him down.

“Wonderful,” Boss said, “because this is supposed to be a celebration party. As in, we’re supposed to be celebrating, and not going for each other’s throats.”

Steamed Bun could hear Mo Fan’s scoff from across the kitchen.

“Who wants cookies?” Chen Guo called. She had a tray of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies in one mitted hand, and was carefully setting it down on the counter. Which was very crowded with various food items—in Steamed Bun’s mind, potential hazards to the sanctity of the cookies.

Steamed Bun, being the good Samaritan he was, immediately got off the bar stool and rounded the counter to help clear up some space for the tray. Chen Guo thanked him absently, then did a double-take and gave him a suspicious look like she doubted his intentions.

That was fair. If he was in the possession of such delicious-smelling cookies, he would also be stridently protective of them.

Steamed Bun offered her his most winning smile. “I want cookies.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“So can I—“

Chen Guo slapped his reaching hand. “No!” When she glimpsed Steamed Bun’s puppy eyes, she sighed and mumbled, “Wait for them to cool down first.”

By then, everyone had already gathered around, drawn by the smell. Even Boss was peering over the edge of the counter to get a good look, appearing somewhat impressed.

“I didn’t know you could bake,” Boss said.

“We looked up recipes online,” Su Mucheng explained. “And Fang Rui helped.”

Everyone looked at Fang Rui.

Fang Rui bristled. “What? A man can’t bake?”

Luo Ji was rubbing his temple. “I think I must be dreaming. Or hallucinating. Somebody really slipped me something, I’m sure of it.”

“Let’s all just appreciate Fang Rui’s talent,” Su Mucheng soothed before things could get out of hand.

Not that Steamed Bun would precisely mind if things got out of hand. He always had a lot of fun when they did. Besides, they were a team. No matter how ugly things got, they always returned to normal after certain debts were settled. They antagonized each other for sport, and like in any sport, there were rules to be followed.

For example: once everyone got their fill of revenge, the hit lists had to be wiped clean.

That was why, even though at least two people were watching him like hawks, Steamed Bun still stuffed three cookies in his mouth before anyone could say anything about a method of distribution.

“Steamed Bun!”

“Spit them out! That cheater—“

“You better sleep with one eye open tonight, you little shit!”

Steamed Bun grinned as he booked it to the living room. The cookies were so hot that he may as well have been swallowing fire, but it was worth it.

Now, how to survive their vengeance tomorrow…

Ah, well, he’d think about it in the morning.

* * *

They were only about halfway through the night and Ye Xiu was ready to call it quits.

“You okay?” Su Mucheng asked, sidling up to him with a glass of juice in her hand. She held it out to him expectantly.

Ye Xiu took it with a hum and said, “I’m fine. Just trying to mentally prepare myself for the amount of damage control I’m going to have to do tomorrow.”

Su Mucheng laughed. “Don’t worry about it. You know how it works around here, by next week it’ll all be water under the bridge.”

Ye Xiu rolled his eyes. “And yet everyone has to set things up for the next day. Nobody has any patience. If they could just spread out their ridiculous revenge plots over a more sizable period of time, then I wouldn’t have to worry about it. As it is, all I can do is avoid collateral.”

“No grudges allowed,” Su Mucheng pointed out. “Exacting revenge as soon as possible is how we avoid collateral. Dragging it out just encourages hard feelings.”

“Who came up with this? When did we create this system?”

“I have no idea, but it’s served us well so far.”

Ye Xiu couldn’t argue that. And to be fair, usually it was just someone getting back at someone else over a prank or a joke made in poor taste. Like a 1v1, it was easy enough to keep up with.

Tomorrow, though? Tomorrow was going to be a lot worse than a 1v1.

Then Ye Xiu realized something. He realized something beautiful.

“I’m not technically captain anymore,” he told Su Mucheng. “This is your job now. You have to corral them.”

Su Mucheng blinked.

Ye Xiu gulped down his juice as he walked away, feeling indescribably smug.

* * *

An Wenyi had already come up with and discarded about a half-dozen plots by the time everyone was ready to face the music and go back to the board games. Most of the team had chosen to sit the next round out, including An Wenyi, who didn’t need any more people to be angry at. His hit list so far consisted of Steamed Bun, Wei Chen, Fang Rui, and Luo Ji.

Luo Ji was a new addition. He was usually a harmless guy, all told, but that shit he pulled in Monopoly just couldn’t be forgiven.

 Now, Chen Guo, Wei Chen, Steamed Bun, Fang Rui, and Tang Rou were sitting around the coffee table while the rest of them took up the couches. These five brave souls had decided on some kind of detective game next, of the who-killed-the-neighbor variety. It was simple enough, but making sure Steamed Bun understood all the rules was always a hassle.

The game was boring to watch, but that was all right. An Wenyi still enjoyed the frustration on everyone’s faces when they guessed wrong. He was sure Steamed Bun wouldn’t win this one. Sure, there was an element of luck involved, but…

And then Steamed Bun won.

“I’m going to puke,” Luo Ji said beside him.

An Wenyi scooted away with a glare. “I’m sure that was a figure of speech, but I forgot you were next to me and I honestly cannot stand to be near you right now.”

Luo Ji blinked at him. “What—oh. Monopoly.”

“Yes, Monopoly, you bastard.”

Luo Ji raised his hands innocently. “I did what I had to do.”

“And tomorrow I’m going to do what I have to do,” An Wenyi promised.

They stared each other down for several seconds.

“You guys! I won again!” Steamed Bun announced happily, prancing around the living room.

“Sit the fuck down,” Wei Chen barked at him, his expression thunderous. “I’m losing my patience here. Someone has to put this punk in his place.”

“Steamed Bun,” Fang Rui called, “seriously, come sit down if you still want to play round two.”

“I think we should just ban him from any more games,” Chen Guo said. “This cannot be okay. How much longer are we going to let him walk all over us? I’m just one defeat away from firing him!”

“That’s the coward’s way out,” Tang Rou argued. “We have to beat him fair and square.”

“I’ll play,” An Wenyi said out of nowhere, sliding to the floor. “There’s still room for more players, right?”

“Yeah,” Fang Rui said, eyeing him cautiously. “Choose a character. Steamed Bun, if you don’t come over here right now, you won’t get to play!”

Steamed Bun finally stopped his ridiculous posturing and came over, a wide smile on his face. He looked so innocent in his joy, so childlike, but An Wenyi knew the monster that was hiding underneath.

“Hope you’re prepared to lose,” An Wenyi told him.

Steamed Bun just blinked. He was really playing it up. “Good luck!”

An Wenyi scoffed and made a quick scan of the room. Their teammates gathered on the couches seemed to be suffering food comas and were not paying much attention.

Luo Ji, though. That upstart was definitely watching.

An Wenyi gave him a little glare before he turned his attention back to the board game. He had a clown to beat.

* * *

Ye Xiu decided not to intervene when An Wenyi lunged for Steamed Bun. He’d warned the kid.

* * *

As the oldest member of Team Happy—former member, whatever—Wei Chen took pride in his ability to maintain his composure. There wasn’t anything that scared him because he had seen it all before. There was no adversary he was unwilling to face because he had already faced them all. There was nothing he would not do for victory.

He was implacable. Unstoppable. Dominating.

This was what he said to justify his decision to wake Steamed Bun up tomorrow with a glass of water poured over his face.

Ye Xiu grunted at him. “As long as you don’t wake me up.”

Wei Chen huffed. “What do you think I am, an amateur? I’ll be up before everyone else. I want to get the first hit in.”

“I’ll wake up earlier and stop you,” Steamed Bun said cheerfully.

“You stay out of it,” Wei Chen snapped. “Accept your fate like an obedient child.”

“No! I don’t want to do that.”

“I will give you no choice. And neither will everyone else you’ve pissed off tonight.”

Steamed Bun turned a pleading look on Ye Xiu. “Boss, tell them I’m just lucky. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You stole those cookies,” Tang Rou said.

Luo Ji perked up. “Yeah! The rest of us had one or two each and you took three of them.”

“That’s just how life is sometimes,” Steamed Bun said sagely.

Wei Chen agreed entirely. Life really was like that: you stole somebody’s cookies and then paid for it later. You stole somebody’s win and then paid twice as much. You stole Wei Chen’s win and you paid triple.

“I hope you remember those words when I make you regret ever crawling out of your mother’s womb tomorrow,” Wei Chen told him.

Steamed Bun blinked.

“Ugh, can we leave off the dramatic threats this one time? We all know the worst thing that’s going to happen is someone drawing a penis on Steamed Bun’s face. Nobody here has the guts for murder,” Chen Guo said. “Though I’m sure I’d have less problems if that weren’t the case.”

Wei Chen was almost offended. “Well, don’t suffer on our account. If you want us to go all Hunger Games up in here, we can do that.” He mimed rolling up his sleeves as if in demonstration of his willingness to fuck shit up.

“How about we just bake some more cookies instead?” Su Mucheng suggested. “That seems like a heartwarming thing we can do together. It’ll really cement tonight in our memories.”

“I’m down for more cookies,” Fang Rui said.

“Good, because you’ll be doing most of the work this time,” Chen Guo grumbled, getting up from the floor.

Wei Chen watched everyone stand and make their way to the kitchen with varying levels of enthusiasm. He was absolutely speechless.

“Hey, morons!” he snapped after them. “You really want to bake cookies rather than play games?”

“What’s the point anymore?” Luo Ji called back.

“This dumbass is going to keep winning,” Fang Rui added. “C’mon, it’s my time to shine. I’ll show you all the power of baking. Steamed Bun, you’re not getting any, but feel free to observe and look awed from over there.”

Wei Chen glared down at the detective game spread on the coffee table. He grumbled to himself for a full minute before the ruckus in the kitchen became impossible to ignore.

Learning how to bake cookies better than any of those posers would be a good enough way to establish dominance. Maybe he could eat a plate of them tomorrow right in front of Steamed Bun.

Or…he could just do that now.

* * *

Ye Xiu thought that baking cookies would be a good way to defuse tension, which was why he went along with this despite having no desire to learn to bake. In some ways, he was right; in most other ways, he was tragically wrong.

Wei Chen and Fang Rui were like oil and water, ribbing each other endlessly as Fang Rui attempted to teach and Wei Chen attempted to learn. The rest of the team more or less watched from the sidelines, fascinated and horrified in equal measures. Fascinated because no one thought the day would come when they’d see these two human disasters arguing about baking, of all things; horrified because no one could tell what was happening to the cookies and the thought of enduring any more of this party without any sweet, chocolate chip goodness was a painful one.

“Can you move? You are hogging this lesson all to yourself! If you want private classes, pay me first!”

“As if. Your private classes aren’t worth my money. Your qualification to give even free lessons is questionable by itself!”

“And yet you’ve elbowed your way to the middle of the kitchen just to force your help on me as you watch my every move.”

“A man wants to learn how to make cookies, big deal. Not like the rest aren’t watching.”

“It is kind of hard to watch like this, Senior Wei,” Qiao Yifan admitted.

“Even Qiao Yifan said so! And he’s been playing the wallflower this entire time.” Fang Rui sniffed.

Qiao Yifan, as if realizing he’d just drawn attention to himself, ducked behind Tang Rou. Ye Xiu admitted his strategy of staying in the background was a good one: you couldn’t offend anyone if you didn’t do anything with them in the first place.

Ye Xiu wondered if he was having fun. That was always questionable, but Qiao Yifan had expressed in the past how much he liked hanging out as a team. It was probably safe to assume that Qiao Yifan really was enjoying himself despite remaining low-key.

Someone else who was low-key and had an attitude toward anything team-related suddenly came to mind. Ye Xiu trailed his gaze over to Mo Fan, who was situated at the end of the bar, somewhat close. He was leaning against the counter with his phone in hand and was currently scrolling down, down, down. Always down, always bored, and always by himself.

Sometimes Ye Xiu really didn’t know what to do with Mo Fan.

* * *

Once the cookies were in the oven, Fang Rui declared their work done and Chen Guo herded everyone back to the living room. Nobody seemed to be in the mood for playing games anymore, but that was fine by Mo Fan. He hadn’t not had fun, but he admitted to some…feelings of frustration.

Now that games were off the table—quite literally off the coffee table, might he add—Su Mucheng suggested they watch a scary movie to top off the night.

Chen Guo seemed accepting of this. “Movie, and then pictures.” She pointed at the far wall, where all the…colorfulness in the house seemed to have congregated.

There were some subtle mutters of complaint, but ultimately no one could bring themselves to earnestly protest. Seeing as his own strength was flagging, Mo Fan understood. Sometimes, arguing with Chen Guo was more trouble than it was worth.

The movie was selected with minimum fuss—he suspected everyone just wanted to get tonight over with so they could all go to bed—and the team settled down in various positions on the couch or the floor. Popcorn and drinks were passed around, and silence fell.

Horror movies were horror movies; the suspenseful music and weird effects were probably to be expected. Mo Fan wasn’t terrible interested, to be honest, and only managed to endure the first third of it by drawing on his supposedly endless well of patience.

By the time they were nearing the end of the movie, he’d decided that well was definitely not endless.

Screams sounded as the undead creature on the screen came around the corner, its hideous face taking up most of the screen. Somebody flung their leftover popcorn into the air and little kernels of the stuff rained down on Mo Fan.

“Could you bastards get a hold of yourselves?!” Wei Chen roared.

Mo Fan glanced around the darkened room, searching for the culprit. The girls were all curled up on the couch with Ye Xiu, wide-eyed and huddled close together. Ye Xiu had an indifferent expression on his face where he sat at the end, apparently refusing to join the cuddle pile. As Mo Fan watched, he raised his drink to his lips and sipped, casual as could be.

Mo Fan tried not to feel irritated at this and dragged his gaze elsewhere. Wei Chen, Fang Rui, and An Wenyi were on the floor to one side of the coffee table; Steamed Bun and Qiao Yifan were on the loveseat, probably because Qiao Yifan was the only one who could tolerate Steamed Bun at this point; and Mo Fan himself was sitting near Luo Ji, who seemed to have been rejected by his usual group of friends. Mo Fan wouldn’t have minded so much if the guy weren’t such a wuss.

Luo Ji met his eyes in the dark, deeply embarrassed. He hugged his now-empty bowl of popcorn close to his chest. “S-sorry…”

Fang Rui cursed. He was the next closest person to Luo Ji. “That was you? If I wake up with popcorn in my hair tomorrow, I swear—“

Another round of screams interrupted Fang Rui, causing him to jump. Mo Fan also found himself flinching back and very nearly hitting his head against one of the end tables.

Ye Xiu sighed loudly in the aftermath. “See, I told you all that the thing came from the graveyard. And now that stupid jock is at the graveyard like some sort of sacrifice. He should have just buried his girlfriend and moved on.”

“Burying your girlfriend’s body in a graveyard was pretty smart, though. Who would look for a dead body in a graveyard, right?” Wei Chen said.

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

“Because I make an excellent point and you don’t have a response to give.”

Mo Fan grunted. Wei Chen didn’t have to sound so smug; burying someone in a graveyard wasn’t that original of an idea. Besides, graveyards had people looking after them; it would be sadly easy to get caught burying a whole body in one. Discarding the dead where the dead were usually discarded may sound logical, but it would at most buy time. Mo Fan was pretty sure someone working at a graveyard would notice some disturbed dirt.

Unfortunate, really. He wouldn’t have minded committing murder tonight. But the cleanup afterward would just be a nightmare. Maybe he should take his high school chemistry teacher’s advice and dissolve the bodies in acid. Surely nobody would ever be able to link that back to him…

Luo Ji, who had scooted closer to him as if seeking comfort, suddenly scooted away again. “Hey, can we not give Mo Fan any ideas…”

“Don’t insult the guy, Mo Fan would never be this stupid if he had to dispose of a body,” Ye Xiu said.

Indeed he wouldn’t. Mo Fan found himself nodding firmly before he realized just who he was agreeing with. Then he shot Ye Xiu a dirty look.

Ye Xiu smirked at him. “Everyone knows the best way to get rid of the evidence is to burn it. But burning a body can take too long, and it’s not easy to do in a densely populated place like a city, so acid would be the better choice. As long as you have access to the materials required, it’s no big deal to melt the body into unidentifiable paste.”

…What the fuck.

“What the fuck?” Chen Guo demanded. Then the music peaked warningly and everyone screamed again. Even Mo Fan confessed he jumped about a foot in the air when he saw the butt-ugly monster erupting from the dirt to latch onto the jock’s ankle.

Ye Xiu, the asshole, didn’t react at all. He was too busy silently laughing at Mo Fan.

* * *

Ye Xiu sat through the ending of the movie with a feeling of smug superiority. He had guessed the entire plot after the first third and gotten just about everything right. The jock got his comeuppance; killing girlfriends was a big no-no. His friends managed to survive the vengeance of the ghost creature in the graveyard, though one of them got seriously injured. The girl in the group only tripped over nothing one time, and there had only been a single halfhearted romantic subplot between her and the nerd.

All in all, not the worst way to spend the rest of the night. Ye Xiu stretched and yawned as the end credits began to roll.

Next to him, the girl pile stirred, and Chen Guo warily lifted her head from where she’d hidden herself behind Tang Rou. How those three even managed to stay on the couch, Ye Xiu had no idea.

“Is it over?” she groaned.

“Guoguo, if I’d known you were that scared of horror movies, I would have chosen something else,” Su Mucheng said consolingly, patting Chen Guo on the back.

Tang Rou almost leaped off the couch the moment Chen Guo unattached herself. She huffed as she stretched her arms above her head, brow furrowed.

“Something wrong, Little Tang?” Fang Rui asked from the floor.

“That was awful,” she immediately complained. “I think Guoguo almost ripped my arm off.” She gestured at the scratches littering her upper arm.

“Sorry, sorry!”

Fang Rui snorted. “Wow, okay. Well.” He got up as well, staggering a little on wobbly legs. “Now that that’s over, let’s go to bed. I’m old and tired.”

“No!” Chen Guo cried. “Pictures!”

The rest of the team, who had been more or less in a state of shock up until then, scrambled to their feet and tried to make a run for it.

If they had asked Ye Xiu, he would have told them that even if they escaped Chen Guo, they would certainly not escape her wrath. Or her nagging.

* * *

The pictures were almost a bust, but after a lot of yelling and some reluctant help from Ye Xiu, she got everyone to stand by the wall and smile. The entire team looked like they had been through some sort of ordeal, and Chen Guo suspected the horror movie was only part of it.

Notably, nobody wanted to stand next to Steamed Bun, which complicated everything. Except Qiao Yifan, because he was an angel.

Chen Guo, for the most part, was the one taking the pictures, because she didn’t trust anyone except maybe Su Mucheng to do it right. But she did get some shots in with them afterward, more like really bad selfies than anything, and these were much more casual and fun in her book.

“Okay, I think I’ve been traumatized enough. I’m going upstairs,” An Wenyi grumbled.

“Me, too,” Luo Ji said, already skulking away.

Various noises of agreement emerged from the group and, by the time the stampede was over, only Chen Guo and Ye Xiu remained downstairs.

Chen Guo glared up at the ceiling. “Even Mumu and Rourou ditched us! Who’s going to help with the cleanup?”

Ye Xiu shrugged, smiling faintly. “We can always just clean up tomorrow. How about we get the bowls and stuff to the kitchen and worry about the rest in the morning?”

Chen Guo sniffed, but caved in the end. She didn’t want to spend the rest of the night picking up after those ungrateful louts, no matter how it pained her to leave the living room in such a state.

Honestly, though, the living room was the least of her concerns. The kitchen looked like a hurricane had swept through.

Ye Xiu eyed the dirty dishes that spilled out from the sink and onto the countertops. “I’m not washing these,” he declared.

“Me neither.”

“You don’t live here, nobody expects you to do anything.”

She smacked his arm. “I expect me to do so something! But it’s definitely not going to be washing the dishes.”

Ye Xiu chuckled a little, but even though they talked big, they still soaked some of the worst of it and swept up any baking debris from the floor. They also set the furniture in the living room to rights and wiped down the dinner table.

“Ye Xiu,” Chen Guo said as they were piling up the board game boxes on the coffee table, “are you sure you want to retire?”

“It’s not about what I want.”

She pursed her lips. “Well, maybe you should think about what you want.”

Ye Xiu looked up. He smiled when he saw the expression on her face. “I’ve been doing that for over ten years now. It’s time I go back home and take responsibility for everything. I may be shameless, and I may be a bad son, but I’m not heartless.”

“C’mon, you’re not a bad son.”

He laughed a little. “Say that to my family. Look, I’ve already done all I set out to do. Now it’s time I rested and found something else to focus my energy on. I have a lot to make up for.”

Chen Guo frowned. There was nothing wrong with his words, nothing wrong with wanting to make amends with his family, but she couldn’t imagine Ye Xiu doing anything but this. He was made for this. Glory was…

Glory meant different things to all of them, but Chen Guo didn’t think she’d be exaggerating if she said it meant the most to Ye Xiu.

“And Mucheng? And the team?” she asked quietly.

“Haven’t we already talked about this before?” Ye Xiu’s smile turned gentle. “Everything will be all right. Despite what the critics say, I’m not what holds this team together anymore. You guys will find a way to carry on without me. Wei Chen definitely isn’t going anywhere, either; he’ll be the most meddlesome retiree you’ll ever see. And…if you really need my help, I’ll be here. I can’t leave my investment behind completely, right?” He winked.

Chen Guo rolled her eyes at that. “Right, how could I forget.”

“Heh. Just trust me, Boss Chen. Things will work out.”

Ye Xiu straightened and put his hands on his hips as he examined the board games, neatly piled on top of one another. “I think we’re done here. Let’s get some sleep, eh? I’m sure Mucheng and Tang Rou won’t mind you bunking with them tonight.”

Chen Guo stared at him. Even now, she couldn’t believe this guy had walked into her Internet café one night and utterly changed her life. It was hard to accept that so much had happened merely by chance; that he was now stepping out of her life as if nothing had happened at all.

But that wasn’t really what he was doing, was it? Ye Xiu hadn’t given up even once on the journey here, and he wasn’t giving up now. He was just moving on with his own life. Everything they’d worked to achieve, he was now entrusting to her and the rest of Team Happy.

Because he believed in them. Because there was nothing else left for him to do.

She couldn’t resist anymore. Before Ye Xiu could say anything else, Chen Guo rushed forward and hugged him.

“Thank you,” she whispered before hastily drawing away.

Ye Xiu stared at her. Then he smirked.

“It was no trouble.”

* * *

Ye Xiu woke up after Team Happy’s first celebration party with a headache.

In the future, they would have more victories to celebrate, more championships to prove their mettle. They would have formidable records, formidable members, and promising rookies to replace the old guard. A new guard to take up what the originals had left behind.

They would grow, they would evolve, and they would endure. Yes, they would do it without him, but always with his memory. And he would always be watching from wherever he ended up.

Ye Xiu smiled a little as he sat up. He reached for a cigarette—and then nearly knocked the entire pack off the end table when the yelling began.

At the other side of the room, Wei Chen bolted upright. “Those fuckers! They’re getting started without me!”

“Then I guess you better haul ass,” Ye Xiu said apathetically, lighting up as if nothing happened.

When he was alone in the room and the screaming coming from the rest of the house had only intensified, Ye Xiu found himself staring outside the window, ruminating not on the past or the future, but the blindingly bright present.

There was nothing to be afraid of, was there? When you reached the end of the road, all you had to do was start over.

This was just another beginning.