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1.
Lots of things terrify Huang Shaotian. Okra. Squirrels. Being unheard and forgotten. Tall places. It’s normal to be afraid of stuff, everyone has fears they’d rather not admit to. At least, that’s what he tells himself when his teammates laugh at him for yelping at the squirrels in the park when they get too close.
One thing that doesn’t scare him is the training camp’s uncontested deadlast player. On a scale from PK to okra, Yu Wenzhou isn’t important enough to get a ranking. Sure, he’s smart, maybe even scary smart, but in Glory that isn’t enough.
And then everything changes.
Wei Chen’s Warlock falls for the third time. The ending animation isn’t even finished before Yu Wenzhou gets to his feet, thanking Captain Wei for the match like he hadn’t just humiliated him in front of the entire reserve team. Everyone is frozen in place. Fang Shijing, who never bats an eye at anything, is openly staring.
A shiver runs down Huang Shaotian’s spine. Around him, whispers gather like the crisp grey before a storm.
“Is this a dream, someone pinch me.”
“How’d he do that?”
“Me next, play me!”
And just like that, the room is in chaos. Huang Shaotian is caught in the vortex, too shocked to do anything but watch as his teammates all clamor for a match. His gaze catches on Yu Wenzhou’s unnaturally steady one, and the back of his neck prickles. He resists the urge to look behind him.
He shakes off the weird apprehension—what is he, scared? He’s not scared, he’s the one who makes others shake in their boots—and shoves his way to the front. “Hey, hey, move aside, it’s my turn, I wanna play him first. Come on, come on, show me what you’ve got!”
He never calls Yu Wenzhou deadlast again.
2.
“Shaotian.”
Huang Shaotian whips around, the tip of his blue pen trailing a line down Fang Rui’s sleeping face. Oops.
Hastily, he stuffs the pen in his pocket before anyone can see. Really though, Fang Rui should consider himself lucky. Sleeping in the training room where anyone can find you is a dangerous move. Huang Shaotian has woken up more times than he can count because someone put shaving cream on his hand and then tickled his face.
When he looks up, Yu Wenzhou’s gaze is mild but there’s a hint of steel beneath his smile. Huang Shaotian rubs at his bare arms, suddenly cold without his jacket. “Um, what is it, Wenzhou?”
He's not sure why, but he gets the strange feeling Yu Wenzhou could ask him to do anything and it would be the most natural thing in the world to go ahead and do it. Which is silly. Just because Yu Wenzhou will probably be captain next season doesn’t mean Huang Shaotian has to listen to whatever he says. Never mind that he practically listens to everything already.
That's only because Yu Wenzhou says so many smart things.
There's no point examining it too hard. He's an action kind of guy. It's not that he doesn't think. He thinks all the time, but he works best when he can suck in information and tease out the patterns as he goes. Examining his reactions to Yu Wenzhou feels like that time he was dared to lean over the ledge of Blue Rain’s rooftop garden, heart rabbiting wildly at the steep drop so close to his feet.
“Nothing,” Yu Wenzhou says, shaking his head with a rueful laugh. “It was just a question.”
The moment breaks, memories of adrenaline and terror sinking back down into nothingness like they were never there. Huang Shaotian is still breathing hard when Yu Wenzhou changes the subject.
“I was discussing last week's pro matches with Captain Fang and wanted your opinion on Hundred Blossoms. Did you think they played differently than usual?”
Gobs of half-formed ideas unstick themselves from Huang Shaotian’s mind. Ideas he hadn’t realized were there until the question prodded them loose. He hurries over, observations and speculation spitting rapidfire from his mouth. Yu Wenzhou is so good at stuff like this, at finding the missing pieces to Huang Shaotian’s patterns and building new ones, like thread tied between their fingers.
He can’t wait for next season. Together, they’re going to be unstoppable.
It isn’t until hours later that he realizes he completely forgot his sneaky plan of drawing a dick on Fang Rui’s face.
3.
The metal claw opens its jaws, releasing nothing but empty air into the prize slot. Lights flash and upbeat music pounds a steady beat, unknowing and uncaring of Huang Shaotian’s loss.
His sixth loss in a row.
He slaps his fist on the console next to the little joystick. “I almost had it, I was so close this time, didn’t you see.” He scowls at the glass separating him from the trove of cute little plush toys up for grabs.
He doesn’t really want one, but he hates to lose.
“Why don’t you let me try?” Yu Wenzhou’s voice is soft but the authority it carries cuts through the background noise. It’s a rare Saturday with no matches and no practice, and it’s as if the whole city is packed in here with them.
“One more, one more, just you see I can get it this time. I’ve been studying the terrain, I’ve been practicing my speed, I’ve been—”
Yu Wenzhou clears his throat.
The sound is barely audible beneath the clanging of arcade games and music and conversation, but Huang Shaotian’s back snaps straight. “Captain.”
Yu Wenzhou leans in close. The urge to talk his way out of trouble itches in Huang Shaotian’s throat but he doesn’t dare risk digging himself in deeper. He’s learned not to question the instinct.
He holds his breath, waiting for the verdict. His toes wriggle in his shoes at the thought of what Yu Wenzhou might say.
Once, when Huang Shaotian inadvertently disrupted a practice by forgetting to leave his phone outside the room, Yu Wenzhou assigned him extra training. Huang Shaotian could have protested it, and probably would have won. His position as vice-captain gives him authority over his own schedule. And yet, he didn’t. He only squirmed and whined and pleaded for leniency before obediently sitting down and accepting his fate. For the entirety of his punishment, Yu Wenzhou stayed in the room and supervised his every move. Sometimes, if he concentrates, Huang Shaotian can still feel the weight of his observation.
A nudge on his shoulder breaks him out of his memories.
“Do I need to ask you to move again?” Yu Wenzhou says.
Huang Shaotian jumps out of the way, letting Yu Wenzhou access the controls. He watches in silence as Yu Wenzhou maneuvers the joystick with the same detailed precision he uses to play Swoksaar. Soon enough, a bright blue octopus plushie falls into the prize bin. Yu Wenzhou beams like Blue Rain just won the Team Competition, hands extended to offer the prize to Huang Shaotian.
Little Fish Legs finds a home perched beside Huang Shaotian’s monitor in his bedroom.
4.
“You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you, Shaotian.”
The urge to shuffle to his knees and plead his case nearly takes Huang Shaotian to the ground, except the whole team is still in the room. He locks his legs and concentrates on standing. And defending his honor. “Captain, what are you saying? Aren’t I always good? I listen to your instructions all the time.”
Off to the left, someone coughs, probably Zheng Xuan. Huang Shaotian makes a note to remember this betrayal for later.
“Shaotian. Answer me.” Yu Wenzhou’s hand is heavy where it comes to rest on Huang Shaotian’s shoulder.
Huang Shaotian tries not to melt into a terrified puddle when he feels a light stroking along his collarbone. Screw staying standing, he has much bigger problems. Way bigger problems. Ye Qiu-sized problems, except his captain is so much scarier than even Glory’s infamous pain-in-the-ass textbook. He squirms, but it’s more for show than a real attempt to free himself. They both know he can’t escape. “Um, what was the question?”
Yu Wenzhou tilts his head.
“Okay, okay, fine. I broke curfew during the away game last week, which was bad but it wasn’t my fault. Wang Jiexi needed to talk to me about—” he cuts himself off just in time. “About stuff! He needed to talk to me about so many things because I’m such a great friend who gives the best advice. Ask anyone, it's true.”
For the first time, a crack appears in Yu Wenzhou’s composure. A crinkle around his eyes. Huang Shaotian knows that crinkle, it means he’s trying not to laugh.
Huang Shaotian squares his shoulders, pressing his advantage. All he needs is an opening, that’s all he ever needs. “Was that good, was I good?”
The warning strokes along his neck resume. Yu Wenzhou answers, a short, “No.”
“But I—”
A squeeze on his shoulder cuts him off.
Yu Wenzhou pauses, letting the silence stretch, an old routine to make sure he won’t be interrupted when he finally speaks. “What I meant was that you didn’t answer my original question. I wanted to know if you would be on your best behavior for the sports water advertisement first thing tomorrow morning, but thank you for confirming your whereabouts after the match last week. I had been wondering.”
Huang Shaotian slumps. Crap, crap, crap, how does Yu Wenzhou wring out all his secrets without even trying? One of these days he’s going to figure it out and then the tables will turn. Let Yu Wenzhou see what it’s like to be at the center of one of those terrible smiles.
A finger under his chin guides his head back up. The stern look is gone, its harsh edges replaced by a softer tilt of lips. “Well,” Yu Wenzhou prompts, not releasing his chin.
It’s a confusing moment before Huang Shaotian realizes. “Oh! Oh that, okay. Yes, Captain, I read the instructions for tomorrow. I read them three times! You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Very good.” Yu Wenzhou pats his shoulder, his praise warm like being wrapped in a nice, fuzzy blanket. With a final nod of dismissal, he walks to the whiteboard. A single clap of his hands draws the entire team’s attention. “Alright everyone, let’s talk about diversionary tactics and why they’re so hard to deploy against Tyranny.”
“Because Zhang Xinjie has already thought of everything that could happen!” Yu Feng calls out.
“Unlike Huang Shao,” Song Xiao adds.
Huang Shaotian resists the urge to clap his hands over his flaming ears. And yeah fine, it’s not the first time he’s been caught out in front of the whole team like this and it probably won’t be the last. But he’s their vice-captain, can they not leave him with at least a little of his dignity.
He flips his middle finger at his cackling teammates and joins Yu Wenzhou at the whiteboard.
5.
Huang Shaotian doesn’t mean to spy, it just kind of happens. The moment he realizes what he’s seeing, he hides behind the door frame.
It’s too late; Yu Wenzhou’s face is burned into his memory. His usually expressive features are set in unyielding stone, the glow of his monitor sending flickers of shadow dancing along his jawline as he speaks.
“There will be no second time, do you understand.”
The words aren’t directed at Huang Shaotian, but that doesn’t stop the spike of fear. This smile is different from the usual ones, the stern grins that knock Huang Shaotian off balance and make his heart race. This one has no edge of teasing, no playful reassurance, no hidden promise that beneath the impending punishment is a blanket of safety and security that will never let Huang Shaotian fall. There’s nothing but cold, hard steel in that tight press of lips. It makes Yu Wenzhou’s other smiles look like cute puppies looking for playtime. Huang Shaotian thanks all his lucky stars it isn’t directed at him.
Across the desk, Wei Chen nods, though Huang Shaotian can only see the back of his head. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“But you did.” Yu Wenzhou’s voice is ice. “I was the one who picked up the pieces.”
Huang Shaotian squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to relive those days. What’s done is done, there’s no need to drag it back into the light. It’s enough for him that his old captain has reappeared from retirement and wants to be a part of his life again. Huang Shaotian doesn’t want to yell at him, he just wants him back. But he understands that Yu Wenzhou isn’t like him. Huang Shaotian lances his wounds by steeping in them until the pain is gone; Yu Wenzhou tucks his away and buries them deep.
He doesn’t have to be a genius shotcaller to see how much Yu Wenzhou needs to clear the air. It’s why he gave permission for Yu Wenzhou to say all those things about him, even though he doesn't feel the need to say them himself. Everyone tends to forget because they're too focused on Huang Shaotian's mouth, but he's a leader, too. He gets it.
“If he doesn’t want to talk to me, he can tell me himself.” And there, that’s more like the stubborn asshole Huang Shaotian remembers.
Yu Wenzhou is undaunted. “If you want to be welcome in this building again, I need more than that from you. Why should I trust you around any of my team?”
Silently, Huang Shaotian backs away from the door and heads for the open streets. Being Blue Rain’s hidden assassin means knowing when to strike and when to retreat. He's heard enough. Yu Wenzhou will give him the full recap later if he asks for it.
Eventually the frost in his bones thaws, chased away by the relentless Guangzhou sun and the knowledge that he has people in his life willing to fight for him.
And one of them is the most terrifying person in all of Blue Rain.
+1
“Shaotian.”
The staging room is noisy, it always is before an All-Star event, so Huang Shaotian has a perfectly good reason not to hear his captain’s call. He flaps a hand at Su Mucheng, chatting as they make their way to the long table with drinks and snacks. They have so much to catch up on.
“...and there was slime everywhere. Every time I tried to walk, I slipped in it! All the kids were laughing at me, can you believe it? At me.”
“If it was anyone but you, I’d say no, I don’t believe it.” Su Mucheng says from behind her bottle of water. If she’s trying to hide her laughter, she’s doing a terrible job. Which means she isn’t trying to hide, she’s just laughing at him.
Huang Shaotian takes a big breath, ready to defend his stellar decision making. Off to the side, Yu Wenzhou tries to catch his eye—
“Shaotian.”
—and Huang Shaotian quickly looks away.
Only to catch a glimpse of Lu Hanwen and Yu Feng drifting towards Liu Xiaobie on the couch.
“Crap, gotta go.” Huang Shaotian hastily makes his excuses. “Little Lu’s been hot for revenge all summer, and my super secret spy network tells me Yu Feng has been egging him on.”
Which maybe isn’t the most flattering description of his former teammate but there’s no time to explain that their youngest player somehow struck up an unlikely friendship with Yu Feng after taking over his attack position. On one hand, Huang Shaotian is thrilled Lu Hanwen is making friends—he knows all about the excitement of making so many new friends as a relatively new pro player—but on the other, Wang Jiexi might actually murder him if this gets out of hand.
How embarrassing, death by mismatched eyeballs. Almost as bad as the escaped slime incident. And even worse, if Wang Jiexi is out for his blood, that means the captain will—
“Shaotian.”
By unlucky coincidence, the room falls into a lull of silence between conversations. Yu Wenzhou’s voice rings across the room and bounces off the walls.
Fuck.
The room goes pin-drop silent, all eyes on Yu Wenzhou. Even Huang Shaotian turns to look.
His captain’s face is as calm as a still lake, but there’s a twitch to his lips that says he’s slightly embarrassed at being the cause of such a disruption. He clears his throat. “My apologies, everyone, please resume what you were doing.” And then he turns to Huang Shaotian and says his name again.
“Shaotian.”
Under the eyes of the entire room, Huang Shaotian slinks over to his captain. But not before sending a glare at Su Mucheng, who’s most definitely laughing at him with Fang Rui.
“Hi Captain, you called. Look, I’m here, I heard you calling because I’m a very attentive and punctual vice-captain.”
“Four times.” Yu Wenzhou crosses his arms.
“You should have been louder, Captain, this room is so noisy and so crowded, I can barely move without hitting someone, and there aren’t even enough chairs for us to sit. I don’t know why the organizers don’t let us rest in the stands before the event starts, that would be so much more convenient. And then you would know exactly where to find me when you—”
Yu Wenzhou’s smile lands like an avalanche. The rest of Huang Shaotian’s argument is buried in the rubble.
“You were saying?” Yu Wenzhou prompts.
“I was saying you were right, I should have paid more attention,” Huang Shaotian jumps to respond. He shuffles his feet, leaning in so he can whisper, “Captain, you can let this slide, right. I didn’t ignore you on purpose.” Behind his back, he crosses his fingers in silent apology.
The ignoring was mostly not on purpose. He hadn’t done it because he wanted to, he just had other stuff he had to do first.
From the corner of his eye, he sees Zhou Zekai tap Jiang Botao on the shoulder and point. Huang Shaotian shoots him the stink-eye, because he knows, he just knows that turncoat is spilling secrets about all the times this exact thing happened at the Glory World Invitational when they wore the same uniform.
Zhou Zekai gives him an innocent thumbs up but Huang Shaotian isn’t fooled.
“We’ll talk about this later.” Yu Wenzhou’s voice drags him back to his predicament. The heat in his face is gone, replaced by his usual calm authority, though his eyes are brighter than normal. “When we return home, I expect you to propose a suitable punishment for yourself. Do you understand?”
Huang Shaotian can’t hide the way he squirms. “Yes Captain!”
There's no response, but when he looks away, he can swear Yu Wenzhou's whole face goes soft in his peripheral vision.
(“Does this happen often,” one of the Shu twins says to the group of assembled Blue Rain members.
Song Xiao groans. “Don’t ask.”)
In the next moment, the stadium loudspeaker crackles to life, loud enough that everyone in the room can hear. “Welcome to the Season Eleven All-Star Weekend!”
A group of staff shows up at the door to lead the players to their seats. As they file out of the room, Huang Shaotian considers that at least he has three full days to come up with a suitable punishment.
The weekend can’t end soon enough.