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Wang Jiexi can make a perfect cup of tea. It doesn't matter what kind of tea, the brand of the tea leaves, how hot the water is, whether the person even likes tea or not—when Wang Jiexi makes a cup of tea for someone, it will always be to their taste. Even if the person in question had never drunk tea before or doesn’t even like tea in the first place, the moment they take a sip of tea made by the hands of Wang Jiexi, they will find it oddly appealing. Just something about the tea will be wonderfully comforting, like being wrapped in a lightly heated blanket or being hugged by the softest cloud.
In the grand scheme of things, it's an useless talent. But Wang Jiexi can't find it so when he quietly sets a cup down in front of a downtrodden Fang Shiqian and is rewarded with a content smile once the other takes a sip of the tea.
(What Wang Jiexi does not know, and will never find out, is that his talent isn't making the perfect cup of tea—it's the ability to make a cup of tea that suits his needs. Since he's under the opinion that his talent is to make a perfect cup of tea, that's what he makes. But if he ever were to come across someone he absolutely hated, someone he wanted to disappear off the face of the earth, someone he despised with his whole being, if he ever made them a cup of tea, they would take a sip and drop dead.
But Wang Jiexi never will so instead he’ll live his life making perfect cups of tea for the people he cares about.)
Fang Shiqian has the ability to know exactly what time it is without looking at a clock or a watch. It makes him terrifyingly efficient at time management. It also gives him extra fuel for lecturing his fellow teammates.
“Do you realize what time it is,” Fang Shiqian states without greeting, coming into the doorway to stare at the dark figure in the room. The person in question startles slightly and then turns around.
“I’m just reviewing some recordings,” Wang Jiexi comments mildly, turning back around to the computer. “We do need to prepare for our next opponent.”
“We do,” Fang Shiqian agrees. “But not at 1:07am.”
The sound of a pen scribbling some notes echo through the room for a few seconds as Fang Shiqian’s temper slowly rises.
“Okay,” he declares. “Up.” He walks over, yanks Wang Jiexi up by the shoulders, and then turns him to the door. “March,” he commands, pushing the other forward.
“W-wait,” Wang Jiexi protests, resistance littering his every step. “I need to finish—”
“It’s now 1:10am,” Fang Shiqian announces, his hands gripping the other’s shoulders tighter, “and that means it is too late for me to deal with your bullshit. Go. To. Bed.”
“I don’t really mind staying up later to—”
“Well, I mind,” Fang Shiqian interrupts. “Look, the recordings will be there in the morning, the team will be there in morning, hell, I will be there in morning so please, could you think about your health for once and get some goddamn sleep?” His eyes narrow at Wang Jiexi’s back. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staying up late to take notes on our opponents.”
A faintly sheepish air overtakes Wang Jiexi’s demeanor but the other noticeably doesn’t say anything.
Fang Shiqian sighs and stops pushing, letting his hands gently rest on the other’s shoulder. “Have faith in us, Captain,” he murmurs, “Like we have faith in you.”
Wang Jiexi stays silent and lets out a small exhale. “Okay,” he says, just as quiet. “Thank you, Vice-Captain.”
Fang Shiqian rolls his eyes and begins pushing the other. “Now that we’ve wasted another 2 minutes, keep marching, Wang Jiexi.”
Wang Jiexi lets out a laugh and walks forward.
Yu Wenzhou's talent has nothing to do with his current job position and everything to do with the ever growing field of computer science and all it entails. It’s one of the reasons his parents bemoaned the fact he decided to be a professional gamer instead of a professional game programmer.
Yu Wenzhou can look at any programming code and clearly point out where there are bugs in the program. Doesn't matter if he knows the language or not—he just needs to look at it and the problematic section in question just becomes highlighted for him.
It's an ability computer programmers would kill for.
The only reason Yu Wenzhou knows he has this ability is because he’s accidentally looked at some of his older sister’s homework assignments and asked why a certain part was highlighted. The incredulous look that his sister gave him, after she had changed something in said paragraph and all the red error statements turned to green, was one of jealousy and slight mania.
Yu Wenzhou calmly observes the near homicidal look on his sister’s face and silently notes to stay far away from any game developers.
Huang Shaotian has really good hearing. Huang Shaotian is a chatterbox.
The two are correlated.
Normally, Huang Shaotian ignores his talent. It isn’t much use, especially when he has headphones and the chat box to use instead. In fact, he would say it’s a detriment because when his captain quietly (scaringly) says his name from across the room, Huang Shaotian has no reason to ignore it. It’s not like he can say “I didn’t hear you.” He did. He can. He just wishes he couldn’t.
He doesn’t let people in on the real detriment of his talent.
Only a few people have stumbled across the blonde, hunched over and covering his ears against a world that is just so loud. When the sounds of an ant walking on the ground are drums pounding in his head, when the people whispering in the hallways are shouting at full volume, when the click of the mouse is the strike of a hammer against a gong, when his ears are listening to the entirely wrong sounds and projecting them to be closer, louder, deafening—
Huang Shaotian fills his world with chatter and words, speaking as fast as his mouth will let him.
After all, he can't hyperfocus on the smallest sound if he's the loudest thing in the room.
To the disbelief of many, Han Wenqing's talent has nothing to do with intimidation. That, unfortunately, is just his face and 100% just his face. But his ability does have to do with his appearance.
Han Wenqing can never take a bad picture. Never. In every picture he takes, he always appears immaculate (read: his usual stone face). No matter what angle it’s taken from, what moment it’s taken during, how fast, how slow—it doesn’t matter. Han Wenqing always comes out with the exact same expression and sometimes, the exact same pose.
[AbsoluteRuler]
Congratulations to @HanWenqing and @ZhangXinjie for being selected to appear at All-Stars again! In commemoration, some of my favorite pictures across the years.
[triumphant_tree]: ...han wenqing...is in the same pose...in every single picture...
[tyrannical85]: you must be new. Captain Han can never take a bad picture
[Rainy Star]: depends on your definition of bad
[tyrannical85]: how dare you! Captain Han has a perfectly respectable face!
[truimphant_tree]: .......
[Rainy Star]: .......
[tyrannical85]: it’s a nice face! Well done proportions! His eyebrows match his frame!
[Rainy Star] maybe @tyrannical85’s talent is brainwashing? Unfortunately, looks like they used it on themselves
[win_the_war]: Congratulations Captain, Vice-Captain!! Here’s to many more years of All Stars!
[refinedtastes]: my favorite picture is the one that’s clearly supposed to be a sneak shot yet captain han is staring directly at the camera
[oasis]: My favorite one is the one where Bai Yanfei is clearly posing for the camera but Han Wenqing looks the same. Is that his actual pose? Is it his talent taking over? We will never know.
[whispering_smoke]: my favorite are official ones taken from around tyranny HQs that are supposed to be “candid” but captain han has his arms crossed in every single one of them
[imperial_winner] : has shared @SilverFountain’s photo
[AbsoluteRuler]: WHAT IS THAT
[GloriousWind]: OMG OMG OMG pros interaction!! I love!!
[king852]: i heard this place is infamous for its notoriously spicy food
[boldfaced]: even by Sichuan standards?
[king852]: even by Sichuan standards
[KnightMe]: IS HUANG SHAOTIAN CRYING THIS POOR BOY
[NoFalteringNoStutter]: i can tell han wenqing is sweating judging by the discarded jacket (sweaty arms!!!) and that guy cut off in the picture that’s hand fanning him, but han wenqing’s face....is immaculate
[win_the_war]: that’s our Captain Han for you!
[refinedtastes]: of all magical talents for him to have
[RebuildRebirth]: i just want to know who that figure cut off on the side is. Those hands...are suspiciously familiar...
[tyrannical85]: and here come the yx delulus
[RebuildRebirth]: listen, your captain looks great in any picture. I would die for my captain to even BE in a picture. let me have my bread crumbs
Zhang Xinjie thinks his talent is to make things perfectly symmetrical. Whether it be a plate of food, a painting, the furniture in his room, text on a page, anything that requires placement of some sort, Zhang Xinjie can make it perfectly symmetrical.
He's wrong. His talent isn't the ability to make or place things perfectly symmetrical to each other. That has nothing to do with his talent. That's just Zhang Xinjie himself.
No, Zhang Xinjie's talent is the ability to draw a perfect circle.
The reason he hasn't discovered this is because based on who he is as a person, he ensures that any circle he draws comes out perfect. But if he were to be woken up at an obscene hour and handed a pencil and paper, he would still be able to draw a perfect circle, half asleep. If he were drunk and his coordination was shot to high hell and he couldn't even walk in a straight line, if he were told to draw a circle, it would still come out to be a perfect circle.
No one ever discovers this until after the World Glory Competition, at the Afterparty No One Is Allowed To Mention, when even Zhang Xinjie gets drunk (someone spiked the drinks. All the drinks. No one knows who and the person will never fess up out of self-preservation) and all the bespectacled man does is go around drawing perfect circles on everything.
Everything.
Eventually, people with good memories (i.e. the people that have the unfortunate pleasure of remembering everything even when they’re drunk or hungover) realize that every circle is perfectly formed. All of them. Even the ones drawn on the napkins. Even the ones drawn on people’s faces.
He does comment on the symmetry of the circles as they’re scrubbing it off the walls but no one ever brings it up to Zhang Xinjie because no one is allowed to mention The Afterparty That No One Is Allowed To Mention.
Zhou Zekai is the only one who knows what his talent is and he will forever keep it that way.
When people ask, he usually points to his throat and spouts out "singing" and then lets people draw their own conclusion.
It is the only lie he has consistently told people. It is the only lie he will forever swear by.
What he will never tell people is that he has gotten verbally angry just once in his life. Just once.
He was eight years old. Another child that had been bullying him for the past school year or so had just knocked over the small building block castle he had made. Zhou Zekai had stood up, trembling with anger, and with every fiber in his body had shouted "Go away!"
The other boy had scoffed, saying a few more jeers before parting ways. The incident fades from Zhou Zekai's mind but it isn't until a few days later when he notices the other boy hasn't been back in school that he finds out something is wrong.
"Did you hear?"
"I heard! He ran off, right?"
"They found him but he was acting crazy, they said. Kept crying and stuff."
"Yeah! They said he kept repeating he needed to ‘go away’. No one knows why."
"Apparently he keeps trying to run away, even after they bring him back."
"Maybe there's something wrong with his family? Maybe they're not as nice as we think!"
"Can't be, if their only child keeps trying to leave."
Zhou Zekai was horrified. From that day onwards, he’s always been careful to watch his words and to never explicitly say direct commands. He doesn't know the extent of his ability. He never wants to find out.
No one believes Jiang Botao when he says his spice tolerance is a magical ability until he walks in one day eating Carolina Reapers like it’s popcorn.
“No way, these have to be fake,” Du Ming scoffs, reaching over and grabbing one out of the bag. He carelessly tosses it in his mouth. A few seconds later, he’s gagging all over the floor and running to the bathroom in tears.
“I think they taste wonderful,” Jiang Botao comments, biting into another one.
Everyone gains a healthy fear of him after that.
No one quite understands why Ye Xiu refuses to go drinking with Su Mucheng. Whenever the two of them grab something to eat, there is never anything alcoholic on the table. When Team Happy goes out to the bars to relax, Ye Xiu always refuses to attend.
At first they chalk it up to Ye Xiu having a terrible alcoholic tolerance. Then, they chalk it up to Ye Xiu not enjoying alcohol in general.
They are wrong. The key to this lies not with Ye Xiu, but with Su Mucheng and her magical talent.
Su Mucheng can never get drunk.
On first look, most would believe it to be a downside. Can’t even enjoy a nice glass here or there? Can’t enjoy the rest of the party? What a shame.
Su Mucheng sees it differently. She sees it as an opportunity.
(Being raised by two cutthroat boys has taught her to use every little thing to her advantage and to use it well. The first thing Su Muqiu taught her, when he found out he never had to worry about someone trying to get Su Mucheng under the influence, was how to throw a punch.)
She can’t get drunk. But she still enjoys the taste of the beverages, of the different types of drinks, plain or mixed. And it’s not necessarily that she can’t enjoy the party. She enjoys it just fine.
Su Mucheng calmly sips at her cocktail as she watches the rest of the Chinese Glory Team make absolute fools of themselves. She notes Zhang Xinjie drawing circles all over the walls, Sun Xiang doing...something...in the corner, Fang Rui returning from the hallway with a face covered in not lipstick, but eyeshadow for some reason, and other interesting events that she stores in the back of her head for later.
Catching Huang Shaotian and Wang Jiexi beginning to use salad dressings to draw what looks like replicas of their avatars, she grins into her drink and then walks over to observe.
(The pros are under the impression that it’s Yu Wenzhou who has the most blackmail on people. It isn’t. It’s Su Mucheng.)
One day Mo Fan comes in with bright red nails. Everyone stares. Mo Fan stares back. The team remains at a standoff until Ye Xiu enters and gives everyone an odd look.
“What’s the matter?” he asks.
No one answers but everyone, someway or other, whether it’s out of the corner of their eye, in the reflection of the window, or even just directly, looks at Mo Fan’s hands.
Ye Xiu looks at the other man’s nails, raises a singular eyebrow, and looks back at Mo Fan’s face.
Mo Fan stares at him and then changes his nail color to black. Silence reins again.
“So...you can change your nail colors?” An Wenyi cautiously asks, everyone staring at the flickering colors on Mo Fan’s nails.
Mo Fan nods.
“Ah,” An Wenyi mildly comments. “That’s it?”
Mo Fan grunts. That’s it.
Wei Chen's talent, in his humble opinion, is absolutely useless. He can make his eyes glow.
There is no trick, no extra hidden secret, no undiscovered addition. All he really can do is make his eyes glow, to his everlasting disappointment.
(Believe him, Wei Chan has tested this hypothesis thoroughly. There really isn't anything more he can do with it.)
On the plus side, he muses one night as he walks downstairs to grab a drink and a sandwich for a midnight snack, ignoring the light switch during this whole endeavor, he never has to worry about stubbing his toe in the dark.
Qiao Yifan has a green thumb. Any plant he tries to grow will never die. In fact, it is literally impossible for him to kill any plant he’s trying to grow. Even if he gives it minimal care, the plant will stay alive and prosper.
At Tiny Herb, unbeknownst to most members, Wang Jiexi got many of his tea leaves from Qiao Yifan’s little small garden pots that he kept in the window of his dorm room. When he moved out, he handed it over to Gao Yingjie who tries his best to maintain it but can never quite reach the level of success that Qiao Yifan had with the herbs.
In contrast, his shared room at the Happy dorms hosts not herbal plants but instead flowers. Sweet smelling ones, the kind that bloom into colorful blossoms, the kind that fill the air with soft scents. An Wenyi's and Qiao Yifan's room slowly turns into the best smelling room in the whole house and is frequented by many members that want a calming, relaxing space to be in.
At full bloom, Qiao Yifan usually clips, trims, and arranges his flowers in beautiful bouquets that he then gifts to his team members.
The only plant that he nevers gives away is a little succulent that he keeps on the windowsill closest to his headrest. It's twin sits on the windowsill of a certain rookie successor cities away, both carefully maintained by the two friends.
(One day, Bao Rongxing gifts him a pot of tall green leaves for his birthday. Qiao Yifan thanks him, waters it, puts it in windowsill on An Wenyi's side with his permission and due to lack of space on Qiao Yifan's own side, and wakes up the next day to the sound of An Wenyi shouting havoc at the vines that have suddenly overtaken half the wall.
“What the hell?” An Wenyi mutters as they rip the vines down from the wall.
“What the hell?” he repeats empathetically as they attempt to peel the vines out from the windowsill but fail.
“What the hell,” he states when the rest of the team gather to assess the damage—at the windows that need replacing, the cracked wall with roots still stuck, the stains that just can’t seem to leave.
“From now on,” Chen Guo angrily chides, “everyone must do their RESEARCH before bringing in any plants of unknown source. Before bringing in ANYTHING of unknown source.”
“I’m really sorry,” Qiao Yifan says miserably. He had no idea his talent could even do this.
“I didn’t know you had it in you,” Wei Chen cackles. “Imagine if you got your hands on a venus fly trap.”
Bao Rongxing gets a sudden gleam in his eyes.
“No,” Qiao Yifan says, horrified.
“No!” Chen Guo nearly shrieks.
“Hm,” Ye Xiu hums thoughtfully. Chen Guo turns on him in fury.
It only descends from there.)
Tang Rou has perfect pitch.
Actual, legitimate, uncanny perfect pitch.
She can hear the tap of a keyboard and say the exact note it is, what octave it is. She can hear a chair do a series of squeaks across the floor and transcribe it perfectly to music notes within seconds. The flush of a toilet, the sneeze of the person next to her, the water dripping down from a leaky faucet—every sound in the world is nothing more than simple music notes on a page, easily distinguished and easily understood.
It's why she went into music, originally. With such a niche talent, it would make sense to go into the one field where her talent provides her with an extra edge over everyone else. It’s only logical. It was simple. It was easy.
It's why Glory, with its mechanics and theories and roles and tactics and skills encapture her so. Here is something not easily understood. Here is something not easily deciphered. Here is a world where taps on a keyboard create a song that could end in victory or defeat. Here is a world where mouse clicks sing of hidden tricks and powerful skills. Here is a world where the music twists and changes, flows upward and downward, ever confusing and never revealing what awaits at the end of the path.
Here is something that excites her.
Bao Rongxing doesn't have a talent. That's what he believes. That's what he tells everyone.
But everyone has a talent! they would protest.
Hmmm, then I just haven't found mine! he would respond with a grin. Bao Rongxing doesn’t care enough about his talent to really examine or test it any further. He has a lot of theories: a perfect sense of smell, excellent looks, superior arm strength, ability to predict the weather. He shares them vividly and in great detail with anyone standing next to him but each talent gets disproven down the line sooner or later.
Bao Rongxing just shrugs and moves along.
(Deep within Bao Rongxing, so deep that it could probably be considered nothing more than his subconscious, is a voice that suggests small, tiny, miniscule things.
The burgers will be discounted tomorrow.
Create a Glory account.
The neighbor's cat is hiding next to the dumpster behind the apartments.
The man in the bomber jacket will bring a knife to the bar tomorrow.
Stop the lady in the red dress from taking any drinks.
Enter the Boneyard dungeon tonight.
His real name is Ye Xiu.
Join his team.
Bao Rongxing just chalks it up to luck. Outsiders chalk it up to the man's ever changing whims. Only a few people suspect it could be more but no one will ever recognize it for what it truly is.)
No one knows what Ye Xiu's talent is. Few have asked and no one has ever gotten a straight answer.
Some think he can read thoughts. Especially during moments when Ye Xiu will offhandedly make a comment about an event he should had no business knowing, and never elaborates and how and why does he know Windward Formation fell off a bridge because Wei Chen dropped a cup on his keyboard, Ye Xiu get back here and explain—!
The idea terrifies people and for good reason.
Some people think it's related to Glory. That it has to do with hand speed or memorization or something with the game mechanics, something that explains just why he’s so good at the game.
Once, the outcry grew so great that the Alliance themselves had to step in and release a statement saying Ye Xiu’s talent did not directly affect his gameplay. The public was slightly tamed but a vast majority still raged about it for weeks afterwards.
No, the Alliance said, they cannot release what his talent actually is; there is such a thing as a NDA clause.
No, they will not find someone with a negation talent to stand next to Ye Xiu as he plays. First off, that talent was very rare and second off, it would change nothing because his talent does not affect his gameplay.
No, they will not ban the usage of talents. Some of them are physically impossible to turn off; do you understand how talents work?
No, they will not ban Ye Xiu. His talent has nothing to do with how he plays. It cannot affect his gameplay. Ye Xiu’s skills have nothing magical about them. That’s all Ye Xiu. He’s just that good.
Granted, the Alliance never explicitly says these things, but it’s implied in many press releases as they and the Glory devs continuously keep getting asked about Ye Xiu. It’s a question that comes up every year without fail. No one will admit to it, but the officials were slightly relieved when his retirement was announced. Finally, they were free!
And then he returned with a grassroots team and they despaired again, but this time for different reasons.
(Ye Xiu does not speak of the voices whispering to him, every time he slots an account card into the reader. He will not speak of the screams and cries as he hands away One Autumn Leaf, a tremor in his hand the only giveaway. He will never mention a voice, so foreign yet so very familiar, greeting him like an old friend as he pulls out a first server card and plugs it into the card reader. He won't speak of the countless stories he's been told each time he holds a card in his hands, of the victories, of the defeats, of the lowest points in their owners lives, of the highest points, of their deepest and personal secrets.
In a way, he technically has told people the truth. Glory has always been more than just a game for him.)