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A placeholder captain is what they call him.
The media. The fans. His team’s own management. None of them say it outright but it’s in every line that they print, in the disparaging way they call for a “real” captain to step up, the way they constantly pressure him for news about the trainees. Blue Rain won’t announce a new lineup until after the summer break, but everyone knows Fang Shijing is merely marking time until the season ends.
Even his office is a placeholder. The sharp smell of cigarettes lingers on the walls and on the furniture.
Fang Shijing doesn’t smoke.
Another Saturday rolls around. Another loss. Back at the club, he runs numbers instead of sleeping. Blue Rain can still make the playoffs but it’s looking less and less likely unless a miracle happens. It doesn’t matter. What matters is there’s still a chance and Fang Shijing will do everything he can to seize it. And if he doesn’t, he can retire with the knowledge that he gave his all. He rubs at his temples, the crisp lines of the spreadsheet blurring into hazy boxes. The world might call him a placeholder but Fang Shijing knows better. He isn’t helplessly marking time. He isn’t struggling for nothing. Blue Rain is a shipwreck at sea and Fang Shijing will keep them afloat until they can be saved.
A less charitable part of himself wishes his critics had more appreciation for how difficult a task it was. The reporters circle like wolves and Blue Rain’s management nips at his heels, both sides never letting up. And that doesn’t count all the team practices, the matches, and the extra time he spends with the two teenagers who are Blue Rain’s future.
A knock at his door makes him jump.
His elbow hits the mouse, the bright light of the monitor blinding him for a moment when it flashes to life. Muscle memory lets him tab away from the spreadsheet in time to call out a tired, “Come in.”
The door squeaks open, and speak of the devil.
Standing in the doorway is none other than Yu Wenzhou, as if summoned from the murky depths of Fang Shijing's thoughts. He takes the seat across from the desk, looking far too awake for three o’clock in the morning. The perks of youth.
“You should be asleep,” Fang Shijing says, giving his best ‘disappointed captain’ face.
Yu Wenzhou frowns, eyes serious behind his thick glasses. “So should you.”
Defensive counterattack. Fang Shijing can already see the emerging playstyle in Yu Wenzhou’s practice games. Apparently, he utilizes it in real life as well.
There isn’t much Fang Shijing can say in his defense. The truth is, he’d sleep if he could but he never sleeps on game days. ‘You used to,’ the voice of Wei Chen taunts him, but Fang Shijing tells it to fuck off. Wei Chen doesn’t get a say, not when he’s the reason for the sleepless nights. Fang Shijing isn’t used to spending game nights alone.
Time to switch tracks. He already lost one match tonight, he doesn’t intend to lose another, either to a teenager or to a voice in his head. “Since we’re both awake, is there something I can help you with?”
Yu Wenzhou studies his hands, neatly folded in his lap. It isn’t unusual for him to think before he speaks but there’s an uncertainty in his bearing that hasn’t shown itself since before those three dramatic training matches against Wei Chen.
Fang Shijing waits. If he’s learned anything over the last half year it’s the value of giving Yu Wenzhou space to breathe.
When Yu Wenzhou looks up, his eyes are bright. “I wanted to thank you.” He twists his fingers together. “For letting us wait, I mean. Me and Shaotian. I know Manager Chen wanted us to debut this year and that you’re the one who held him off. He’s very stubborn, that couldn’t have been easy.”
Surprise straightens Fang Shijing’s spine. That was between him and Blue Rain’s manager, no one else was supposed to know. It was a hard-won battle, and not without its forfeits. In the end, Fang Shijing agreed to submit weekly progress reports on both Yu Wenzhou and Huang Shaotian detailing their growth and giving his assessment about their readiness to go pro. Luckily, the demands have been tapering off these past few months. Perhaps management is finally learning to trust his judgment.
The point is that he never let a whisper of those negotiations bleed into his dealings with the team. It isn’t their responsibility to shoulder that burden. Nor is it Yu Wenzhou’s or Huang Shaotian’s.
As the captain, it lies solely with Fang Shijing.
It’s a burden he’s happy to take on, though he’d gladly trade it if Wei Chen would get his head out of his ass and come back. But that’s wishful thinking. He left for good and it’s up to Fang Shijing to salvage what he left behind.
He fiddles with a pen on his desk. “How did you find out?” If it was anyone but Yu Wenzhou he wouldn’t admit to it so easily. But Yu Wenzhou is earmarked for captain. The team will be his soon, and he won’t insult him by pretending otherwise.
“Manager Chen came looking for you while I was waiting in your office a few months ago.” Yu Wenzhou straightens in his chair, looking more like the self-possessed trainee Fang Shijing has come to know. “You don’t have to worry, we came to an understanding.”
The recent lack of demands, that was Yu Wenzhou’s doing. Fang Shijing shakes his head, impressed at Yu Wenzhou’s ability to keep surprising him. It brings to mind another matter that’s been weighing on him. Now is as good a time as any to bring it up.
Opening a side drawer on his desk, he draws out an account card and places it on the desk between them. Yu Wenzhou’s eyes track it like he’s holding a grenade instead of a piece of plastic.
“I should have done this sooner. Yu Wenzhou, you—”
“No!” Yu Wenzhou shoots to his feet, his hands hitting the table so hard his glasses jump. They land askew on his nose. “You can’t leave. Not yet!”
The outburst sends Fang Shijing rearing backward in his seat. How did he manage to screw this up? He feels a sudden kinship with Wei Chen, both of them trying their best and never getting it quite right. Moving slowly, he stands up and reaches across the desk to place a hand on Yu Wenzhou’s shoulder. A bit of pressure and a gentle smile guides him back down to his chair.
Fang Shijing follows suit, emotions churning like the sea in a storm. Behind the receding clouds is a growing calm, the warmth of sunlight on his face. Yu Wenzhou has always been somewhat of a mystery. He plays his cards close to his chest, to the point where Fang Shijing could never tell whether he was glad to have him as a mentor or if he was bitterly disappointed it wasn’t Wei Chen.
He supposes he has his answer, now.
“I’m not leaving, not yet,” Fang Shijing reassures him, careful to keep his voice mild and steady.
And then he slides the account card across the desk.
“I don’t understand.” It’s a loaded admission from someone like Yu Wenzhou, who dons his knowledge like armor.
“That card will be yours next season, you’ve figured that out by now, right?” Yu Wenzhou nods, and neither of them are surprised. “You should start practicing with Swoksaar. The skill points will be different when he’s yours but you should get a feel for the account anyway. We’ll draw up a schedule. I still need to use him for practices and matches, but we’ll set aside time for you, too. How does that sound?”
Yu Wenzhou’s smile is one Fang Shijing has never seen. Happy and bright, without its usual edge of reserve. It’s enough to lighten some of the storm from Fang Shijing’s shoulders. This is what he’s here for. This is why he stayed. This season is a lost cause, with little hope of bringing Glory to the team, but he can set them up to shine in the future.
This will be his legacy, and even if no one else ever notices or cares, it’s enough.
Sometime during his musings, Yu Wenzhou must have stood and migrated towards the door. Whether his own exhaustion drove him to seek sleep or whether he sensed that Fang Shijing needed some time alone, he can’t say.
Except he doesn’t leave.
“Captain,” he starts, His hand lingers on the door but doesn’t pull it open. “I’ve heard what they say about you. All those stupid things. I know you know it’s garbage but…” He turns to face Fang Shijing, head held high, almost defiant. “You’re a good captain. You should hear it from someone, you deserve to hear it.”
Fang Shijing blinks, his throat suddenly tight. A million thoughts race through his mind, a million words. But what comes out is, “You’re going to be a great captain, Yu Wenzhou.” They both ignore how his voice is a little rough.
And there it is, that unburdened, pleased grin again. Fang Shijing files the sight away in his mind, a rare gift.
“There’s one more thing,” Yu Wenzhou adds. The door is open now, Yu Wenzhou standing in a pool of bright light from the hallway. “Retirement isn’t death, you know. You should stay in touch after you leave.”
At times like this, Yu Wenzhou reminds him a lot of himself. He still remembers those early days after Wei Chen left, when he stared at his phone and mentally berated him for cutting off contact because it’s not like you died, it’s just retirement.
Thinking about it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. And now he has a good memory to place beside it.
Perhaps his agreement doesn’t show on his face, because Yu Wenzhou takes out his phone and taps the edge of the screen. “You’re already in our contacts. Shaotian will be upset if you delete us.”
Going straight for the jugular. He must have learned that from Huang Shaotian. Or maybe Wei Chen.
Yu Wenzhou must be satisfied with what he sees this time, because he doesn’t wait for an answer. With a final nod, he strides down the hallway, his back straight and Swoksaar’s card tucked into his pocket.
When Blue Rain wins the Season Six championship, Fang Shijing is cheering in the audience.