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Zhang Xinjie looked distressed the second he stepped off the plane. “What’s wrong?” Xiao Shiqin threw him a side glance, noticing the other tactician kept checking his phone.
“We’re behind my schedule.”
Xiao Shiqin raised his eyebrow. “We just landed and you’re already stressed about that?”
“Yes,” Zhang Xinjie’s expression betrayed no signs of joking. “There is a lot that I must catch up on.”
“Ah…” Xiao Shiqin gave him a gentle smile. “I understand. But I’m sure Captain Han can also catch you up on what you’ve missed. I’m sure they’ve trained a lot while we were in Switzerland.”
“That is true,” Zhang Xinjie adjusted his glasses. “Nevertheless, I must continue to work diligently so I do not lag behind my team.”
“You…” Xiao Shiqin could only shake his head as Zhang Xinjie continued to walk forward. You’ve been training for months! In a world-level team with the best players of Glory! How could you possibly be lagging behind your team…?
They fell silent to the sound of wheels against tiles, the fourteen of them exiting the plane and standing on stable ground. Ye Xiu turned to them as they reached the gate, a serious look in his eyes. “This is the end of our journey. I finally get to rest. Good luck in the next season, I will watch all your games.”
“Shut up!” Zhang Jiale pushed his shoulder with his hand. “I don’t want to see you anymore. Go away.”
“So rude,” Ye Xiu faked an offended look. “After all I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?”
“All you’ve done?” Huang Shaotian stuck out his tongue. “What have you done? Literally from the first day you just said to look at the videos and study it ourselves. You did nothing! Except stand there and laugh as they messed up. You didn’t even play in any of the games! What have you contributed? Why are you even a part of the China Glory team?”
“My presence was good enough, was it not?” Ye Xiu crossed his arms. “Besides, do you really want me to describe to you in detail how much I have helped you throughout all the seasons you’ve been in the pro league?”
“Let’s not get into that,” Chu Yunxiu stepped forward, smiling. “We’re all tired; let’s get some rest before our connecting flights.”
Murmurs of agreement rose up as the pro players pushed their carry-ons together, some dropping their backpacks onto the pile and taking a short bathroom break. “We’re really back,” Fang Rui sighed, looking at the familiar chinese characters imprinted above every sign.
“Captain, captain,” Huang Shaotian nudged Yu Wenzhou. “What time is our connecting flight?”
“It should be at 1:30,” Yu Wenzhou looked at his phone. “We have a little bit of time before we have to check in. Do you want to explore?”
Huang Shaotian’s expression brightened. “Let’s go buy some food! There’s gotta be a bunch of food that they don’t have back at Guangzhou, right? Maybe we should ask Wang Jiexi for any suggestions since he lives here. Wang Jiexi, Wang Jiexi, Wang Jiexi!”
“I heard you,” Wang Jiexi looked at him unamusedly. “Just because I live in Beijing doesn’t mean I know everything about its airport. Besides, I’m not going to check in with you guys again. Go explore on your own.”
To the side, Fang Rui turned to Su Mucheng. “Is the boss going to pick us up when we land?”
“I think so!” Su Mucheng nodded. “Ye Xiu said he’d contact her before we take off. Are you excited to go home?”
“Oh, definitely,” Fang Rui groaned. “I can’t wait to lay down on my bed and fall asleep for twenty hours straight.”
Su Mucheng laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. A short distance away, Sun Xiang was chatting with Tang Hao, the two of them immersed in conversation.
“Vice captain,” Zhang Jiale stepped toward Zhang Xinjie.
“Is Sun Zheping picking you up here?” Tyranny’s vice captain asked, remembering that his teammate had mentioned not going back to Qingdao immediately.
“Yeah,” Zhang Jiale nodded. “I’ll be back before next week.”
“Alright,” the other acknowledged. “These few weeks have been intense; make sure to not overexert yourself.”
“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? You take a break too.”
“I would, but there is much to do.”
Zhang Jiale gave him a sympathetic look before he started to leave, following Wang Jiexi, who was also heading toward the exit to the airport. Zhang Xinjie let out a soft sigh before brushing his hair out of his eyes.
The rest of the team who had to take connecting flights talked quietly as they went through customs and checked in their luggage again. The topics of their talks varied from the latest news to popular songs to family stories. Zhang Xinjie decided to stay quiet, listening to the others speak.
By the time everyone had passed security again, it was around one in the morning. His connecting flight started boarding at 2:15. Considering the flight was about an hour and a half, he’d arrive at Qingdao’s airport at around four in the morning. Even though it would be past his curfew, he was still accustomed to Switzerland’s time zone, which indicated it was currently around nine at night. He had slept a bit on the plane, but it definitely wasn’t enough to get a proper night’s rest.
If he was to adjust to China’s time properly, he would have to stay awake until the next night, which was almost a whole 24 hours away. He could do it, probably… since all of China operated in one time zone, traveling to different cities never subjected him to jet lag.
But he had already written out a simple schedule of what he planned to do when he got back. There was more training to organize, videos to watch, always more, always more. It made his head start to hurt but he ignored it; he couldn’t afford to be negligent now.
Of course, outwardly he was calm. He took a short walk, leaving his luggage with the rest of the team. Su Mucheng gladly took up the responsibility to keep watch over their items. While walking, he took a look at a few of the duty-free stores, although nothing really caught his eye. “Zhang Xinjie?”
He turned to see team Void’s captain walking toward him. “Didn’t realize I’d bump into you.”
“The Beijing Airport is not limitless,” Zhang Xinjie pointed out, and the other laughed lightly.
“Yes, yes. Although, I noticed that you looked slightly dazed just now. Is everything alright?”
Zhang Xinjie blinked. “I’m fine,” he reassured the other. “I do not mean to worry you.”
The two of them walked side by side for a short while, exchanging polite conversation. Li Xuan left soon after, as his connecting flight was a little earlier than Zhang Xinjie’s. After parting ways, Zhang Xinjie continued to wander, the thoughts of his responsibilities starting to run wild again.
It usually wasn’t like this; after all, usually he’d be in Tyranny’s team building right now, talking to Han Wenqing or training on one of the computers. He missed his captain. That wasn’t a new thought — rather, it was one that occured quite often.
The China Glory team was a very close-knit community as all of them knew each other well from countless battles. But none could compare to his partner of seven years — the one and only captain of Tyranny — Han Wenqing.
Han Wenqing had always been a constant presence by his side and Zhang Xinjie could not say he would’ve been able to last this long without him. Starting from his debut in season 4, they were always together, captain and vice captain. Their days passed like water running through a river, continuous, flowing.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking him out of his current train of thought. It was a message from Su Mucheng into the China Glory team chat, saying that they were going to leave, calling Zhang Xinjie to return so he could ensure his luggage wasn’t stolen.
Zhang Xinjie replied swiftly, thanking her for her reminder and quickly searching for a map for him to find his way back. When he had returned, Su Mucheng waved him over before leaving with Fang Rui and Ye Xiu, the three of them departing for Hangzhou.
He checked the time: 2:04. It was a bit too late to do anything else now, so he decided to find his new gate and settle into one of the seats. Before long, he was called to board the plane, and he got up to stand in line. He sent a quick text to Han Wenqing, saying that his flight would be departing soon. His captain responded quickly, wishing him a safe trip.
The one and a half hour flight passed swiftly. After landing, Zhang Xinjie exited the plane as fast as he could, receiving a text from Han Wenqing that he had arrived, and called a taxi to take them back to Tyranny’s building. He passed through customs and claimed his luggage from the baggage carousel with no delay, following the stream of people that exited the airport.
Han Wenqing wasn’t too hard to find; there were a few people who were milling about him and recognized him as one of Glory’s top players. Zhang Xinjie’s pace hastened as he spotted his captain, Han Wenqing’s expression softening imperceptibly after making eye contact with him.
“Xinjie,” Han Wenqing greeted him once he was close enough. “How was your flight?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Zhang Xinjie let out a sigh. “Although, I cannot say that I am accustomed to the time difference yet.”
They exited the airport, Zhang Xinjie shivering slightly at the impact of the cold air. Han Wenqing glanced at him before signalling for the taxi, the former helping load his luggage into the trunk.
“Did you sleep at all?” Han Wenqing noted his vice captain’s apparent tiredness.
“A little. Not as much as I’d like to have.”
The vice captain was already starting to drift off slightly, his posture not as rigid as it usually was. Han Wenqing looked at him with slight concern, deciding to sit with Zhang Xinjie in the back instead of taking the passenger seat.
“How is the team doing?” Zhang Xinjie’s voice was slightly muffled as he pulled his jacket closer around his body.
“We’re doing well,” Han Wenqing said as he leaned forward to adjust the temperature in the car, turning the dial a few degrees to the right. “Song Qiying and Qin Muyun have been making good progress.”
Zhang Xinjie nodded with approval, and Han Wenqing shot a glance at him. “You can take a nap,” he said. “We have about half an hour before we get back.”
“Alright,” Zhang Xinjie relaxed, leaning back against the car seat. “Forgive me.”
For what? Han Wenqing wanted to ask, but he already knew the answer. “There’s nothing to forgive you for,” he shook his head. “Rest is more important than team matters.”
The rest of the car ride passed silently, Han Wenqing looking out of the window, watching lights glitter on blurry buildings, though his focus was on the reflection on the glass.
When they arrived back at Tyranny’s team building, it was already four in the morning — rather, nine at night for Zhang Xinjie’s biological clock. Although, taking into consideration that he hadn’t slept well on the flight back and he was constantly being jostled awake, he wasn’t in much condition to stay up.
“You should go to sleep,” Han Wenqing said softly, not wanting his voice to echo throughout the halls.
“I should stay up to quickly get over jet lag,” Zhang Xinjie rejected the idea. “It is much more efficient this way.”
Han Wenqing sighed in defeat, knowing that his vice captain wouldn’t be changing his mind any time soon. Zhang Xinjie walked into the room they usually used for discussions of past games, the door clicking quietly behind him.
He let Han Wenqing bring his luggage back to his room; their rooms were right next to each other’s anyway. Han Wenqing had been to Zhang Xinjie’s room enough times to know where he liked to put everything, so he had no qualms about letting him do so.
Inside the room, he turned on the light, wincing as the brightness reached his eyes. He made his way to the table, pulling out his laptop from his backpack. For now, he’d focus on a training regime to implement some of the tactics he had learned from watching other professionals in the world competition. The room was completely silent, save for the constant tapping of a keyboard.
-
Morning arrived silently, golden rays peeking through the drawn curtains of the building. When Han Wenqing pushed open the door to the room, he spotted Zhang Xinjie, asleep, a pen still in his hand. His face softened at the sight, crossing the room to see what he was working on.
Zhang Xinjie’s notes were clean and succinct; they focused on possible battle strategies that the team could try throughout the season. Han Wenqing looked at the first page with curiosity before noticing his vice captain shivering slightly next to him. It was slightly cold in the room, after all, and Han Wenqing shrugged off his jacket, placing it over the other’s shoulders.
It draped over him like a blanket, and Zhang Xinjie shifted, making a quiet noise of contentment as he nestled back onto his arm. Han Wenqing left the room to grab a snack for him when he woke up. Since Zhang Xinjie preferred to eat healthy, Han Wenqing ended up bringing him a bowl of minced pork and preserved egg congee and a few mantous.
A few people looked at him confusedly when he walked back to the room with a plate of food on his hands. He brushed past them, nodding in greeting but not explaining why he was carrying food. Most people didn’t notice Zhang Xinjie missing during the breakfast meal — well, it was more like they hadn’t realized that their vice captain had returned during the night.
Han Wenqing re-entered the room a few minutes later, placing the tray on the table after making space by moving the notepad. He gently tugged the pen out of Zhang Xinjie’s hand; since he was sleeping, he wasn’t holding onto the utensil very tightly. Han Wenqing stood there for a second before deciding to slide Zhang Xinjie’s glasses off as well, folding them neatly and placing it on top of his notepad.
He left a few moments later, proceeding with his normal daily routine. If anyone had seen what had just happened, they wouldn’t have believed their eyes. Yes, their captain was a human who possessed emotions, but they had never seen him act affectionate toward anyone before. So, the gentleness that Han Wenqing had displayed when taking care of his sleeping vice captain… well, that was something unprecedented.
But, no one had seen him.
And so, no one knew about it.
Not even Zhang Xinjie, who had woken up a while later, his eyes focused on the blurry background of the room that definitely wasn’t his own bedroom. He hadn’t remembered falling asleep; he was working on something, but his notepad had seemingly disappeared, in its place, a tray of food.
He reached around blindly for his glasses, unfolding the temples and putting them on after feeling the familiar frame. His notepad was under the spot he had found his glasses, his pen placed there as well. The food on his other side was still steaming, which meant that not too long had passed.
Unsightly, he thought to himself as he pulled the tray closer, taking a bite of the food and suddenly remembering how much he was grateful for the daily meals provided by the team.
As he sat up straighter, a weight fell off his shoulders, and Zhang Xinjie quickly picked it back up, realizing that it was a Tyranny jacket. It wasn’t his, as his was still in his luggage, and it was a size too large. Oh, he pulled the jacket back over his shoulders without thinking. This is Captain Han’s…
He made a mental note to return it later. Considering no one else had known he had returned, and no one usually went out of their way to disturb him, then it was easy to guess who had brought him his food as well. He smiled slightly as he ate the food, finishing it without hurry and taking his time to return the tray to the cafeteria.
Even though he was still extremely tired, he continued to work after returning to the discussion room, immersing himself with his work. From the morning until noon, he didn’t take any breaks, constantly clicking through videos and making notes. It was only after he walked out of the room for lunch that he noticed he was slightly lightheaded.
Zhang Xinjie was able to make it to the cafeteria without trouble, greeting some of the people that hadn’t seen him yet. He quickly grabbed a meal and sat down at one of the tables, starting to eat. A short while later, someone sat across from him, setting their own plate down as well. He looked up to see Han Wenqing staring back at him.
“Captain-” Zhang Xinjie’s eyes widened as he realized he was still wearing Han Wenqing’s jacket (which is why the people he had greeted looked at him strangely…), although the other didn’t seem to be focused on that.
“Eat first,” Han Wenqing cut him off swiftly, knowing that his vice captain preferred to eat in silence before attending other business.
For a while, the only sounds exchanged between them was the click of chopsticks against porcelain bowls. After Zhang Xinjie set down his napkin, Han Wenqing leaned forward, pressing the back of his palm against the other’s forehead. “You’re burning up,” he said, his tone allowing no argument. “Have you taken any breaks after you woke up?”
Zhang Xinjie opened his mouth to say something before thinking twice. “No,” he sighed. “There is simply too much to do.”
The two of them returned their plates and started to head back to the hallways. “You’re going to rest.” Han Wenqing put his hand over Zhang Xinjie’s when the other reached for the door handle to the discussion room.
“But-”
“Your work can wait. Your mental health cannot.”
A soft sigh, followed by a concession. “Alright,” Zhang Xinjie turned away, changing his route so that the destination was his room.
To be honest, his head had started to hurt more. He had brushed it off as a side effect of jet lag, but if Han Wenqing had noted his rising temperature as well, that must mean that he had a fever.
A fever meant that he wouldn’t be able to work for a day or two, and that meant…
“Stop thinking so much about it,” Han Wenqing broke though Zhang Xinjie’s spiralling thoughts.
Zhang Xinjie looked at him with surprise. “I’ve known you for seven years,” his captain sighed, following him in as they entered Zhang Xinjie’s room. “Surely you don’t think I can’t take a guess as to what you are thinking?”
“You’re right,” he smiled slightly, even though his head was throbbing.
They hadn’t been partners for seven years for nothing.
Han Wenqing stood awkwardly by the side of the bed as Zhang Xinjie climbed in, pulling the blankets over his chest. The former pressed his palm against the latter’s forehead again, using his other hand to compare their temperatures.
Zhang Xinjie leaned into the touch, just barely. He couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed when his captain drew his hand back. A few minutes passed in silence as Zhang Xinjie suddenly felt the wave of sleep hitting him; he had held it back for a few days, and now it came crashing down.
As the captain got up to leave, he heard a rustling noise beside him, and felt a pressure around his wrist. He turned around, seeing Zhang Xinjie half asleep, his grip loose. “Don’t go,” he mumbled, his fingers tightening slightly.
The clock in the corner of the room read two in the afternoon, and Han Wenqing let out a soft sigh. It was Saturday, after all. There wasn’t much to do. He gently pried off Zhang Xinjie’s fingers, quickly retrieving the chair that was on the other side of the room so that he could sit by his vice captain.
After returning, he reached out, Zhang Xinjie nearly clinging onto his arm instantly. He let out a breath, a fond look on his face as he used his free hand to take off Zhang Xinjie’s glasses once again.
Without his glasses, Zhang Xinjie’s exhaustion was apparent: he had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was slightly more messy than normal. If anyone had thought the vice captain wasn’t human, they certainly would’ve at this instant. He looked so vulnerable, so precious-
Something — no, someone — Han Wenqing wanted to protect.
Protect from what? He wasn’t quite sure. Maybe it was the people who had argued that they could be doing so much better, or from the prying eyes of the people who wished to know the truth of their vice captain, that he was someone just like them, not an angelic figure that could never be brought down.
The two of them had never questioned their relationship. It was steady and unwavering, their level of mutual understanding way above most people’s. Taking care of each other was already part of their daily routine. Sometimes it was Zhang Xinjie bringing him an extra bottle of water, sometimes it was him carrying an extra notebook to meetings. Something they had never agreed upon, yet something they had always done.
Han Wenqing used his free hand to caress the side of Zhang Xinjie’s face, throwing all caution into the wind. It wasn’t like his vice captain was going to jump up and snap his neck, anyway. So, what was the harm? He shifted his arm and Zhang Xinjie whined softly. “I’m not going anywhere, Xinjie,” he murmured.
Zhang Xinjie shifted closer, sighing with content as he adjusted into a more comfortable position. It’s nice, Han Wenqing thought to himself. To see his guard down…
Trust.
It was trust that allowed Zhang Xinjie to show his captain this side of him. Otherwise, he would’ve insisted on working, and would’ve passed out (again) at his desk. Han Wenqing pushed the thought away. He was resting now, and that is what counted.
-
When Zhang Xinjie woke up, the sun was starting to set in the sky. He was facing the wall, so he turned to look around his room. Though everything was slightly blurry, he was able to make out the shape of a person sitting by his bed.
“Captain?” His voice was slightly hoarse. “You haven’t been here the whole time, have you?”
“I did some errands,” Han Wenqing answered, and Zhang Xinjie sighed with relief.
He attempted to sit up a little too quickly, his head still throbbing as he brought his palm to press against his temple. “Don’t move too much,” Han Wenqing immediately stabilized him, putting his hand on Zhang Xinjie’s shoulder and having the other lean against him.
“I just thought it would’ve gone away by now,” Zhang Xinjie closed his eyes as the pain slowly started to fade. “I was wrong to assume so.”
“You’re not superhuman,” Han Wenqing said, passing him a bottle of water. “You need to take care of yourself too.”
Zhang Xinjie uncapped the bottle and took a sip. “Team matters are important as well. I cannot risk messing up the team dynamics due to my lack of ability.”
“Xinjie, there is no one on the team more capable than you. Your health is more important than the team.”
Han Wenqing used his hand to turn Zhang Xinjie’s face, so that they were looking at each other. Zhang Xinjie’s vision suddenly focused on Han Wenqing’s features, his mind blanking for a second. He opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by his captain saying his name again.
“Xinjie.”
The tone was soft but insistent, and Zhang Xinjie knew that at this point, he should relent. After all, Han Wenqing only wished the best for his vice captain. For a second, his impulse shattered. He leaned up just slightly, brushing his lips against Han Wenqing’s.
“I concede,” he sighed, pressing against his captain's side.
“Good. There’s always tomorrow,” Han Wenqing moved his hand to rest on Zhang Xinjie’s waist. “For today, just rest.”
There’s always tomorrow… Zhang Xinjie repeated the words in his head. Maybe, it was okay for him to be like this, vulnerable and exposed. Maybe, just for today.