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Beijing, China, Summer after Season One of the Glory Pro Alliance
An office was a strange place for a dream to quietly die.
Royal Style’s boss steepled his fingers on his brand-new desk, bought with money earned from their second place finish in the recent Season One finals. “This is a decision we’ve made after taking the club’s future into account.”
The fan on the boss’ desk whirred quietly, counterpoint to the dull, sinking feeling in Guo Mingyu’s chest.
“The two of you weren’t discreet about your relationship. Many of the pro players already know, and any reporter who does some digging will find the shared hotel rooms.”
Royal Style’s boss wasn’t wrong. Guo Mingyu and Lu Liang hadn’t hidden the intimate way they looked at each other, nor concealed the love inhabiting their quiet gestures of affection. The two of them had trusted their friends - as they had trusted the man in front of them.
Guo Mingyu glanced sideways toward Lu Liang. His captain stood stiff and unrepentant, anger clear in the narrowed corners of his eyes and the thin line of his mouth.
“If the club wants to continue developing, we need sponsors,” the boss continued. “And sponsors don’t want clubs with messy backgrounds.”
“That wasn’t what you said before,” Lu Liang cut in with an icy voice.
Royal Style’s boss grew stern. “I know what I said, but this is the price of success. Royal Style needs a clean image.”
The boss shook off his anger, showing now the concern of an elder for the young. “The two of you will thank me in a few years. Glory is going to be more successful than anyone imagined, and you both have the talent to go far. It’s not worth throwing your careers away because of one error in judgement.”
A mistake. That was all Royal Style’s boss thought Guo Mingyu and Lu Liang were to each other, as if all the days and nights of their partnership were meaningless.
Guo Mingyu struggled to breathe evenly underneath the disappointment.
“The two of you will break things off immediately,” ordered the boss, “I shouldn’t see anything between you other than appropriate behavior between teammates.”
The boss’ face revealed a hint of chagrin. “Mingyu...for now, I’m pulling you off the roster for team battles. If you’re playing in the group arena, you two can’t play in succession.”
“ Ridiculous ,” Lu Liang snapped, losing control of his anger. “Mingyu is our second-best player. Taking him out of the team competition diminishes our strength. In case you’ve forgotten, that double Exorcist combination just brought us to the finals!”
“Enough!” the boss responded, hitting the desk with his palm. “The team is dissolving your partnership, effective now. Having the two of you play together...the sponsors don’t feel it’s good press. We need to take action to prevent any rumors.”
Lu Liang’s hands were clenched so tightly the knuckles had turned white. “And what will you do about the rumors you’ll cause when our vice-captain doesn’t play?!”
Royal Style’s captain burned incandescent in his anger, the flame in his eyes kindled high.
This time, Royal Style’s boss tolerated Lu Liang’s outburst without responding in an equal temper. “I’m sorry, Mingyu, but I have to protect the team’s future. While you’re both at Royal Style, you’ll accept the new rules.”
He paused, hesitated, then continued.
“If you don’t accept the new rules, you can look for a new team.”
Guo Mingyu flattened his palms against his thighs, before falling back into stillness. It was a particularly cruel thing to say in front of him, the person who loved Royal Style the most, and also the person who had sacrificed the most for Royal Style.
Both sides knew the choice to leave Royal Style was an illusion. Players like them - players labeled as homosexuals - would find no opportunities in the current Alliance. If Lu Liang and Guo Mingyu wanted to keep playing professionally, they must stay at Royal Style. Their only choice was to obey the boss’ orders.
“Is there anything else?” Guo Mingyu spoke up, keeping his face impassive.
“No, that was all,” the boss said after a moment, as if expecting another outburst from Lu Liang. Attacking Guo Mingyu, on the other hand, had always been like throwing stones in a pond - after a brief ripple, they sank to the bottom without a trace.
“Then excuse us,” Guo Mingyu said, and waited until Lu Liang moved first, following his captain out of the office and closing the door behind them with a quiet, definite snap.
In the silent hallway, Royal Style’s Exorcist pair studied one another. Even now, Lu Liang carried himself with his native arrogance, unbowed by defeat. That innate pride was one of the things Guo Mingyu had always loved about him.
At the thought, Guo Mingyu’s affection twisted painfully in his innards.
“Mingyu,” Lu Liang said, voice low, mouth cradling the syllables of his lover’s name. “I still believe what I told you. It has been my greatest fortune to have you as my Shadow.”
Guo Mingyu’s smile came tinged with grief. “I don’t regret entrusting Peaceful Hermit to you. I don’t regret anything between us.”
Lu Liang replied with an abrupt nod, and looked away. “We won’t be able to keep living together.”
“I’ll move out,” Guo Mingyu answered. “You have more things.”
Lu Liang gave a sharp shake of his head. “Living there will be a reminder of what I can’t have. You can keep the room, or pick another one.”
“Alright,” Guo Mingyu said, and like that, their six-month relationship ended.
No other discussion was needed. Before beginning their relationship, Royal Style’s captain and vice-captain had agreed that if it harmed their team, they’d end things immediately - ironically, becoming lovers had only improved their performance.
As Lu Liang and Guo Mingyu undertook the bloody, ugly business of cutting apart two lives grown together, they dedicated themselves once again to seeking victory - even if it came alone.
Guo Mingyu and Lu Liang understood each other’s devotion to Glory, and held an equal commitment to their team’s success. After coming one step short of the highest throne, neither of them were ready to give up yet.
To chase that championship cup, Guo Mingyu had already sacrificed his account, his captaincy, and his position as the team’s core. The love between them had become one more thing he’d sacrificed on the altar to Glory.
Beijing, China, Season Two of the Glory Pro Alliance
To desire without being able to touch: there could be no greater torture.
This thought rose to Lu Liang’s mind whenever he saw Guo Mingyu without the anesthetic of Glory to block the unhealed ache: during moments of rest in the training room, brushing past each other in the halls, sitting an appropriate distance apart while eating, and watching each other enter their separate dorm rooms at night.
It would have been easier if the love between them had died of natural causes, instead of becoming a jagged wound that ached every time Guo Mingyu looked at him with that glint of sadness in his eyes.
While Guo Mingyu grieved, he seemed to bear the separation steadily, carrying the loss with him and continuing forward.
Lu Liang loved that part of Guo Mingyu; Royal Style’s captain had often appreciated how Peaceful Hermit was an apt name for the account his partner created.
Lu Liang could not pretend he possessed the same endurance. His anger, his resentment - it escaped him in flashes, and lay awake in the back of his mind, thrashing, when he had business with management.
He channeled his emotions into Glory instead, relieved to find that he still loved the game with the same fervor as always. Glory accepted Lu Liang’s passion and rewarded him with victory.
Only when Lu Liang stepped down from the stage did he feel that these victories couldn’t compare to the satisfaction of his past triumphs - emptier, or lonelier, perhaps. He watched the success of Hundred Blossoms’ new dual core with a bitterness akin to envy.
Banned from the team battle, Guo Mingyu had accepted the first position in the group area, while Lu Liang held the anchor position. Just like their players, Pyre’s Crossing and Peaceful Hermit could remain close, but never touch.
A full half of Royal Style’s roster this season were rookies, partly due to retirements at the end of last season, and partly because the team was expanding their numbers beyond the original seven players.
Royal Style’s rookies have taken Lu Liang as their model, imitating his pride in Royal Style’s strength and achievements, and his bone-deep belief in himself that some called arrogance, and others confidence.
To his disappointment, they learn nothing from Guo Mingyu.
It was a side-effect of his partner’s demotion from his position on the roster. Guo Mingyu still held the position of vice-captain, but it was an empty title. Management clearly disfavored him. He was no longer included in meetings or part of the team’s decision making.
Royal Style’s rookies followed those cues, clustering around Lu Liang and the other remaining veterans while paying little heed to Guo Mingyu and the lessons he could teach them - the lessons of a Shadow - to work hard and selflessly in places no one would see or appreciate, sacrificing your own ego for the team’s sake.
Lu Liang worked to compensate. He praised Guo Mingyu’s contributions, and assigned the rookies training time with their vice-captain, hoping they would learn to listen to his partner, but to no avail.
Frustrated, Lu Liang found himself without any other ideas. This had always been Guo Mingyu’s role in the team; Lu Liang’s skills lay in other directions, and he could only substitute poorly in Guo Mingyu’s place.
Carrying a vice-captain’s title with none of the duties, Guo Mingyu often found himself with free time. Lu Liang only discovered how his partner spent that time when Guo Mingyu brought him into the newly established training camp one day after team practice.
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Guo Mingyu explained with a smile, both of them sensitive to their proximity. Management’s eyes were always upon them - weighing, judging, searching for errors that could reveal their past relationship. It had become easier to avoid one another entirely.
Anger clenched hotly again in Lu Liang’s belly; he brushed it aside, and turned to examine the young trainees at their computers.
One of them, a bear-like boy with a round, earnest face, stood out - unlike the other trainees, he watched Guo Mingyu, the vice-captain, instead of Lu Liang, the captain.
Lu Liang glanced at Guo Mingyu; his partner nodded in affirmation. With an amused smirk, Lu Liang stepped toward Guo Mingyu’s not-so-little apprentice.
The boy rose to his feet immediately, towering over his two seniors while he respectfully introduced himself. His name was Tian Sen, he would turn eighteen next year, and he played Exorcist.
Guo Mingyu smiled fondly at his student, and patted his shoulder before allowing Tian Sen to sit down while the vice-captain logged into a nearby computer. The two immediately began a coaching match, Exorcist against Exorcist.
Lu Liang raised his eyebrows, impressed with the talent this boy showed. Exorcist was a complex class, which made it rare among Glory’s player population. It was too early for Lu Liang to train a successor - he had debuted at eighteen, while Guo Mingyu was only a year older - but potential like this wasn’t easy to stumble across. Lu Liang understood why Guo Mingyu wanted to raise him.
The two players finished their coaching match. Rather than initiate another one, Guo Mingyu looked over his computer at Lu Liang. “Captain, I hope you won’t mind teaching Xiao Tian when you have time. He’s a very good student, but our play styles aren’t identical. I feel he has much he could learn from you.”
It was true. Unlike Lu Liang, who specialized in scythe skills, or Guo Mingyu, who invested his skill points more heavily in talismans, Guo Mingyu’s apprentice used a balanced skill point build. He would benefit most from being taught by both senior Exorcist players as he polished and refined his personal style.
Lu Liang didn’t mind teaching a student that Guo Mingyu felt was worthy of his time, especially one as respectful, hard-working and good-natured as Tian Sen. He inclined his head in approval, the movement unconsciously regal.
Guo Mingyu returned Lu Liang’s gesture with the small smile he used when he felt unreservedly happy, and for a moment, Lu Liang imagined that everything had returned to before, when their partnership was whole and unbroken.
Guo Mingyu went to go speak with the training camp supervisors, leaving Lu Liang with Tian Sen.
Lu Liang made an effort to draw the boy into conversation; anyone who encouraged Guo Mingyu to smile like that had his approval. Luckily, the only thing Tian Sen wanted to talk about was Guo Mingyu, a topic that never displeased Lu Liang.
It was clear that he admired and appreciated Guo Mingyu’s efforts to teach him. He praised Guo Mingyu’s skills and patience, and it was only when he remarked that Vice-captain Guo was very gentle that Lu Liang interrupted.
“Gentle?” Lu Liang repeated. He watched his vice-captain chatting with the supervisors, then shook his head.
“No. Mingyu is no gentler than others. Mingyu is simply a person who is not at war with himself. He accepts the past as it was, and the present as it is.”
Lu Liang knew his expression was too unguarded; he turned away from Tian Sen. “That’s what makes him a rare person.”
When he looked back at the boy, Tian Sen was watching him with shining eyes, and Lu Liang realized he’d picked up an admirer of his own.
He chuckled, and took Guo Mingyu’s place at the other computer, ready to begin his own coaching match.
Teaching Tian Sen restored an equilibrium that Lu Liang hadn’t realized he’d needed. Guo Mingyu’s apprentice was a good-hearted young man, a clean refuge where Lu Liang could enjoy Glory without the bitterness that had crept into many other aspects of life at Royal Style.
It also gave him a reason to interact with Guo Mingyu that management couldn’t criticize. Lu Liang had missed his vice-captain’s frequent company, and the time they spent together with Tian Sen finally healed some of their wounds. If they could not be partners on the field, then at least they could work together honestly here.
Royal Style entered the finals, but tasted defeat against Tiny Herb in the quarter finals. Guo Mingyu’s continued exclusion from the team battle and their rookies’ inexperience left openings that Tiny Herb and their talented rookie Cleric tore wide open.
It was a blow to a team who had entered the finals only one season ago. Management conducted meeting after meeting, placing blame and trying to reassure their sponsors.
Lu Liang declined to attend unless it impacted the team’s affairs. Another member of Royal Style’s original roster had retired, and he had two new rookies to integrate into the team. Now only Lu Liang, Guo Mingyu and their healer remained from Season One.
Then, one morning, Guo Mingyu came to Lu Liang pale as new snow, with the news that he was being traded.
Cold fury carried Lu Liang straight to the boss’ office, stalking inside without any attempt to knock.
Royal Style’s boss sat at his desk, unsurprised to see his team’s captain.
“Why is Mingyu being traded,” Lu Liang asked in a voice that could slice diamond.
The boss folded his hands together. “Royal Style is moving in a direction that doesn’t require Guo Mingyu’s talents. We’ve already ended the double Exorcist configuration. We’ve decided it’s better to let Mingyu move on to a team that needs his skills.”
“Without consulting your own team’s captain first?” Lu Liang’s lip curled in derision.
Royal Style’s boss sighed, as if disappointed. “We knew you wouldn’t be able to be objective about this.”
Lu Liang sneered. “Objective? Did you think our fall in the rankings this season had nothing to do with the changes you forced on our roster?” He wiped his expression clean, revealing only high, cold anger. “We broke off our relationship and followed your rules. At least tell me which team you’ve traded Mingyu to.”
Lu Liang guessed it would be one of the newer teams - Misty Rain could use a strong melee player, or perhaps Wind Howl wanted a partner for their promising young Brawler. The two of them could see still each other a few times during the season, and visit during the summer.
“Mingyu has been traded to a team in the new Korean Glory League.”
Seoul, Korea, Season Three of the Chinese Glory Pro Alliance
Guo Mingyu was grateful, in a way, for what Royal Style had done.
If one of Royal Style’s Exorcists had to be exiled from the domestic league, better that Guo Mingyu was the one sent away, rather than Lu Liang.
His captain had looked so betrayed that day in the boss’ office, and Guo Mingyu knew that Lu Liang still carried the alienation and indignation of that moment within him. His recklessness and wounded arrogance in his recent training proved that well enough.
Guo Mingyu imagined how much deeper that anger might have cut if Lu Liang was the one alone in a strange land, and he shuddered. Better that his captain remain in China, where he had teammates who knew him and who might ease the weight.
Though he was the one sacrificed, Guo Mingyu shouldered a lighter burden than his former partner. Was he hurt by Royal Style’s decision? Immensely. Royal Style was the team he’d built and loved from the beginning - but just like he’d once passed on the account that was a part of himself, Guo Mingyu found it simpler to open his hands and let self-injurious feelings go.
When Guo Mingyu boarded the plane taking him out of China for the first time in his life, he left the hurt and anger in the terminal behind him. Only the sadness and yearning came with him, tucked like stones in the pockets of his sweatshirt.
It had been enough, at Royal Style, to know that Lu Liang was nearby and well. Now Guo Mingyu didn’t even have that.
He tried not to dwell on it. Despite everything else he’d had to leave behind, Guo Mingyu still had Glory.
Glory didn’t come easily in those first early days.
Guo Mingyu’s new teammates were all Korean. Unable to speak or write each other's native language, they struggled to find ways to communicate. It took weeks of frustrating trial and error before Guo Mingyu and his teammates could cobble together enough scraps of English to coordinate on the field. Holding any conversations outside Glory remained distinctly out of reach.
Guo Mingyu was once Lu Liang’s Shadow, though in name only. Theirs had been a relationship of mutual respect and consideration.
Here, Guo Mingyu lived as a shadow - an existence of silence in the midst of sound, standing in rooms without presence while surrounded by people.
His teammates meant no ill toward him. They had been mostly polite toward their foreign vice-captain, and this situation was not their fault. Still, when practice ended and the illusion of connection broke, Guo Mingyu couldn’t help feeling lonely.
Only the messages Guo Mingyu received from his friends and former teammates turned him from thin shadow-silk back into something living and warm-blooded.
He owed special gratitude to Tian Sen, who maintained frequent contact with his former teacher. Through Tian Sen, Guo Mingyu still received news of Lu Liang and Royal Style.
That news worried him more and more. On the surface, Lu Liang seemed to have returned to normal, but Guo Mingyu felt uneasy whenever he received his partner’s scattered messages. The tone was abrupt, and the wording terse and cramped when it should be free and expansive.
A country away, and without any viable means of helping the situation, Guo Mingyu could only observe from afar. He didn’t trouble himself further. Leaving Royal Style couldn’t erase his concern for his former team, but they were no longer his responsibility.
Guo Mingyu’s new team was called RNG, one of the many teams debuting in the brand new Korean professional league.
The name came from English and meant ‘random number generator.' In a game where the players spent long hours of practice trying to eliminate the random, it reminded players that not everything was under their control. Luck held an indisputable place - the luck of innate talent, the luck of serendipitous encounters, and the luck of each individual match.
It was a reminder Guo Mingyu sorely needed, and it had created a slight fondness toward his new team even before he’d arrived.
Guo Mingyu would have preferred to remain in China, naturally, but from RNG’s perspective purchasing his contract had no disadvantages. In a league without veteran players, Guo Mingyu’s experience playing at a professional level was an advantage that couldn’t be understated, not only tactically, but in his ability to mentally adjust himself and steady the team. His experience with Silver Equipment was equally irreplaceable - Peaceful Hermit’s scythe Death Savvy was in part his work.
If it turned out that Guo Mingyu couldn’t mesh well with the team, only the final year of his three-year contract was left anyway, and RNG could simply decline to renew it.
RNG was far better funded than Royal Style had been at this stage, but much about the new club reminded Guo Mingyu of Royal Style’s origins. A spirit, or an excitement, perhaps. A sense of common purpose and the feeling of building something together. Guo Mingyu’s presence here began to feel more like a new beginning - a privilege, rather than a punishment.
When the team’s uniforms arrived a week before their first match, Guo Mingyu tried his on with a hint of wistfulness.
RNG’s colors were white and black, while he’d worn black and gold at Royal Style. The two were similar but not identical, as if connecting his first team with his current one.
Guo Mingyu watched himself in the mirror, and acceptance settled over him. Sometimes you had to give something up to gain something new.
Korea’s Glory league had adopted the same competition schedule as their predecessors in the Chinese League, which meant RNG played their opening game on the same night that Royal Style began its season in Beijing. Guo Mingyu wished Lu Liang good luck before entering the stadium dressed in RNG’s white and black, and received the same blessing in return.
RNG took the win, though not as cleanly as Guo Mingyu would’ve liked. Because of the language barrier, he wasn’t expected to attend any interviews or press conferences despite his position as vice-captain. Instead, Guo Mingyu took out his phone once he returned to the team’s preparation room and sent Lu Liang a message with the results.
By the time RNG reached their hotel, he hadn’t received any response from his former partner. Guo Mingyu put aside his phone, an ill premonition overshadowing his heart. Lu Liang always replied promptly. Perhaps he was simply tied up in team affairs, otherwise…Guo Mingyu remembered Lu Liang’s reckless mental state before he’d left China, and frowned.
As soon as he came out of the shower and saw Lu Liang’s reply, Guo Mingyu knew something was amiss.
Lu Liang’s message contained a file named ‘S3G1 Tiny Herb’ - Royal Stye’s opponents in tonight’s match - and a single line of text: ‘I’d like to speak with you after you’ve watched the match recording.’
Guo Mingyu sat down and watched the file immediately, from start to finish.
When he finished, he re-watched the group arena again. After that, he sent a video chat request to Lu Liang. Guo Mingyu knew the captain would still be awake, despite the late hour.
As expected, the request was accepted immediately. Guo Mingyu saw the somber tension visible in his partner’s face, and he ached .
“Mingyu,” Lu Liang said slowly, the grim bite of his words only meant for himself. “Have I become a fool?”
Familiar with his former partner’s flair for the dramatic, Guo Mingyu considered the question objectively.
“Tonight’s loss was ugly, but it was not entirely your fault. No one could have predicted Wang Jiexi’s absurd play style. I’ve never seen any Witch like him. Lacking any information or experience to make preparations, Royal Style’s defeat was inevitable. You can only blame fate for turning you into the Magician’s stepping stone.”
Guo Mingyu looked squarely at his captain through the screen. “At the same time, Royal Style made many errors.”
Lu Liang gritted his teeth, and gave a tight nod. “We dismissed the rumors and didn’t put Tiny Herb or its new captain in our eyes - he made fools of us for it. Royal Style will be a laughingstock in the alliance for suffering such a humiliating defeat.”
Guo Mingyu waited serenely, sensing Lu Liang wasn’t finished.
His partner passed a hand over his face. “Mingyu...I had doubts before the match, but I didn’t voice them. I know some of our teammates did too, but none of them said anything either. My arrogance is to blame. I’ve created a team environment where no one can lower their head, and it’s made Royal Style weak.”
“Lu Liang,” Guo Mingyu replied, “If you feel your team’s attitude isn’t right, then change it. You still have time. Is this the end of your season, or the beginning of one?”
The corners of Lu Liang’s lips rose briefly. “As always, you see to the heart of the matter. I’ve missed your presence. What would you have me do?”
“If the captain leads, the team follows,” Guo Mingyu prompted.
Lu Liang released a low chuckle, leaning back in the camera frame. “Learn to lower my head?”
“Show your teammates that pride in themselves can coexist with recognizing the talents of others,” Guo Mingyu corrected. “You already know how. Didn’t you recognize me as your Shadow?”
Lu Liang’s gaze became distant. “You were always my greatest fortune.” He sighed, and the set of his shoulders slumped a little. “Thank you, Mingyu.”
Guo Mingyu smiled. “You’re welcome. Contact me more often. I’ve missed you too.”
Lu Liang chuckled. “Your little apprentice is doing well, by the way. I teach Tian Sen when I can spare the time. I have no doubts regarding his ability to debut next season.”
“He’s a diligent student,” Guo Mingyu agreed, relaxing into his chair. “Will you tell me how everyone’s been?”
Lu Liang crossed his arms, his eyebrows lifting with some of his usual hauteur. “Only if you tell me the details of your team's first match.”
“If you’d like,” Guo Mingyu replied, and felt something long-disjointed settle into balance.
By winter, Guo Mingyu had began to venture outside of RNG’s club building - first with his teammates, and then occasionally by himself, outfitted with his phone and its translation apps.
Veiled by light snow, Seoul held a comforting familiarity. All large, modern cities were interchangeable, in a sense. Only the details gave Guo Mingyu a feeling of dislocation - the sound of voices, the smells from the street food stalls he passed, and the street signs he still couldn’t read.
As winter slipped into the new year, Guo Mingyu’s ability to communicate with his teammates continued to improve, while his teammates gained experience as professionals. Their performance became steadier, and the team seemed to have real hopes of a shot at a championship title.
In China, Lu Liang attended the Alliance’s first All-stars weekend, and shared a number of amusing stories regarding his fellow players.
After Royal Style’s devastating defeat against Tiny Herb, the team had suffered no other shattering losses, but neither had they played outstandingly. After their recent games, much criticism had been leveled against Lu Liang and his teammates. Royal Style won with no difficulty against low-tier teams, but had fallen consistently short against top-tier opponents. Burdened by high expectations, the team’s performance remained underwhelming in the eyes of its supporters.
Only Guo Mingyu and the insiders at Royal Style knew this was because of adjustments within the team. Lu Liang had chosen to forego short-term success in favor of the team’s long-term health. Only if he achieved results would his actions prove worth the cost.
Guo Mingyu passed Chinese New Year without celebration. The Korean Glory League had no break in its match schedule, and Guo Mingyu preferred to spend his time training anyway.
The only difference was Lu Liang’s near-constant availability to video call. Unlike RNG, Royal Style had a few days of vacation. His former partner normally kept in daily contact, but Lu Liang seemed determined to create the impression of being beside Guo Mingyu.
It stirred a comforting kind of nostalgia. At Royal Style, Guo Mingyu and Lu Liang had always spent their holidays together. Between their sexual preferences and their choice of careers, their families had long ago cut contact. The only family they had left was Royal Style, and each other.
Guo Mingyu made sure his phone stayed charged so Lu Liang could stay as long as he wanted, even if the two of them did nothing but work in mutual silence.
“Ye Qiu asked about you after our last match,” Lu Liang remarked one afternoon. “He said something about you owing him money.”
Guo Mingyu laughed beneath the sound of spring rain hitting the window panes. “Tell him I haven’t forgotten my debts.”
Moving out of the country took money , and Guo Mingyu’s meager savings hadn't been able to cover the cost.
Before he’d signed a contract with Royal Style, his teenage self had scraped out a living through internet cafes, and pro player salaries were only now beginning to rise. If Royal Style hadn’t paid for his visa papers and airplane ticket, Guo Mingyu couldn’t have afforded traveling to Korea at all.
Lu Liang had offered to help with funds, but Guo Mingyu had gently declined. Royal Style’s captain had played other games professionally before Glory, but the winnings weren’t much. Accepting Lu Liang’s money would consume a large chunk of his captain’s savings, and Guo Mingyu refused to place Lu Liang in a bad financial position. After retiring, those savings might be all his former partner could rely on.
Instead, Guo Mingyu had followed a rumor that Ye Qiu often gave money to retiring players - an unusually profligate act for such a conscientious person - and borrowed a tidy sum to pad his coffers until he started receiving his salary from his new team.
Guo Mingyu’s decision proved it was the correct one. If Ye Qiu only asked about the loan now, almost a year later, he clearly didn’t feel the absence.
The New Year Festival soon ended, and Lu Liang returned to Royal Style’s usual match schedule.
Guo Mingyu didn’t have time to feel any loss. RNG’s ranking was holding steady in the playoffs range; teaching a brand-new team how to shift to a playoffs tempo consumed Guo Mingyu’s attention. Lu Liang was also making similar preparations to ensure Royal Style reached the playoffs in a peak state.
In such a situation, it fell once again to Tian Sen to be Guo Mingyu’s primary link to home. The young Exorcist was preparing for his debut next season and Guo Mingyu offered his former student what help and advice he could. Tian Sen had skill, hard work, and a steadfast heart. Everything else he would learn with time.
The end of the regular season drew into sight. Both RNG and Royal Style had locked in a spot in the playoffs - RNG finishing third overall, and Royal Style falling between fifth and seventh, depending on the remaining matches.
Late one Tuesday afternoon, Guo Mingyu received a video call request from Lu Liang. The timing was unusual enough to concern him - outside of their weekly post-match calls the former partners kept in touch through QQ messages - so he hurried back to his room and returned the call.
Seeing Lu Liang’s deliberately impassive expression on the screen gave Guo Mingyu pause. Unable to think of any recent difficulties at Royal Style, Guo Mingyu waited for his former partner to speak.
“Has RNG discussed renewing your contract yet?” Lu Liang began, still keeping up his mask of neutrality.
“Management says they’ll make a decision after the regular season ends. Has something happened with Tian Sen’s contract signing?”
Lu Liang shook his head. “ Xiao Tian is fine. I’ve seen his contract draft and the terms are very favorable.” A barely perceptible pause delayed his words. “The issue is with my contract.”
Guo Mingyu must have looked alarmed, because Lu Liang quickly added, “Royal Style is willing to renew my contract, but only on an annual basis.”
Guo Mingyu frowned. Three years was the standard pro player contract period in China, especially for main roster players. Lu Liang’s current contract that would expire at the end of the season had a three-year term, and Royal Style should have offered another with a similar term. Annual renewal wasn’t the treatment given to a god-level core player and captain.
Lu Liang gave a curt nod of confirmation. “It’s as you think.”
Guo Mingyu frowned again. “How much has Royal Style said?”
His former partner chuckled. The sound had a bitter undertone. “Very little directly. Only that Tian Sen will use the Peaceful Hermit account when he debuts next season.”
The message was clear enough: Royal Style preferred Tian Sen over Lu Liang as their core, and whoever held the team’s core account would also become the captain. Lu Liang could remain as captain for another year or perhaps two, but no more.
“Have you said anything to Tian Sen?”
“This is my own matter,” Lu Liang answered, spine straight and unbowed as always. "He need not become involved."
Guo Mingyu watched Lu Liang through unfocused eyes, and remarked, “I’m not entirely surprised this was their choice.”
There were many reasons for Lu Liang to be an objectionable figure to Royal Style’s management. Putting aside the scandal of his homosexuality, Lu Liang disliked their decisions regarding player handling, and having management and the captain be at odds wasn’t good for the team.
From Royal Style’s perspective, there was very little to lose. They would lose a top god-level player, but Tian Sen was a promising replacement. Having Lu Liang step down would also be seen as taking responsibility for the team’s declining performance and give Tian Sen a clean record.
“I find myself less outraged than I expected," Lu Liang remarked, sounding bemused. "Tian Sen will be a good captain.”
“I’ve never met another player of his generation who carries our spirit and ideals so clearly,” Guo Mingyu agreed.
Lu Liang’s voice lowered. “Mingyu…you once told me that Peaceful Hermit was like a part of yourself. Your account has become part of me, too. Now I understand how you felt giving a part of yourself up.”
Guo Mingyu could only respond with a pained smile. Retiring and giving up their account was inevitable for pro players. Lu Liang could only find his own way to respond.
Silence passed between them as they each reflected on the past.
Guo Mingyu finally sighed. “Has Royal Style told you anything else? What are their plans after you’ve handed over the captaincy?”
For a moment, Lu Liang’s anger visibly escaped his control. “It has been suggested that my retirement would be best for the team.”
“And what do you think?”
Lu Liang lifted his head, confidence inherent in the motion. “I’m not finished with Glory. Why should I retire?”
Guo Mingyu smiled. “Do you have plans?”
“With the black marks in my history, no team in the domestic league would be open to me. Even if they would, they’re already calling Xiao Tian’s group of rookies the Golden Generation.” Lu Liang shrugged, a little of the bitterness resurfacing in his eyes. “There’s no place for me here.”
Guo Mingyu’s heartbeat jumped. “You intend to look internationally.”
“Why not? I’m only twenty-one. I’ll have many more years before I need to retire.” The intensity of Lu Liang’s gaze felt like a caress. “You’re no different, Mingyu. Your contract also ends this season. Are you willing to become my Shadow again?”
“I was never unwilling,” Guo Mingyu answered. He touched the screen with his fingertips, a long-suppressed desire awakening in him.
“RNG doesn’t have a place for a second Exorcist,” Guo Mingyu remarked after a moment’s thought. “There are new leagues starting in North America and Europe this year. There will be many new teams being built. Finding at least one team willing to take both of us should be possible.”
“Then we’ll fight together again?” entreated Lu Liang, watching his partner.
“For glory,” Guo Mingyu agreed, echoing the words Lu Liang once said to him before their championship match.
“Perhaps we can also try again, between the two of us?” Lu Liang added softly, his eyes lingering on Guo Mingyu’s face.
Guo Mingyu breathed in deeply. A new place. A new team. A new beginning. Let there be no place for regret.
“I’m willing,” he promised. “Let’s try again.”