Chapter 32 Back in the dorm that evening, after washing up…

Back in the dorm that evening, after washing up, Zhao Zhinian, still affected by Yizhan's loss, buried herself in the soft bed. After lying there for a while, she still took out her phone and habitually started scrolling through short videos.

Big data-driven targeted content pushes seven or eight out of ten videos are related to Honor of Kings. In addition to heartbreaking pushes like "Yi Zhan lost again and again" and "Wang Jiexi of Tiny Herb descended like a god and won two games in one go," the currently popular Samsara team is also naturally included.

Samsara has been playing against lower-ranked teams in the last two rounds, and their performances have been nothing short of stomp.

She clicked on a highlight reel with extremely high views. The blogger was praising Zhou Zekai's amazing plays in an excited, almost hysterical voice, showering him with compliments. As if by some strange twist of fate, Zhao Zhinian clicked on the blogger's homepage, where the pinned video was titled "The Road to Gun King: From Silent Rising Star to League Number One - Zhou Zekai and the Rise of Samsara".

This video is incredibly moving, showing the boy's journey from his green debut in Season 5 to his crowning victory in Season 8. Accompanied by either rousing or melancholic background music and the blogger's heartfelt commentary filled with fan camaraderie, even Zhao Zhinian couldn't help but empathize with the fan and be touched by the boy's growth trajectory in the video.

Watching Zhou Zekai in the video, his eyes focused yet slightly lonely in the fifth season, a thought suddenly popped into my mind: In the fifth season, before Jiang Botao transferred in, did Zhou Zekai, who carried the team forward on his own, also experience a period of unknown stumbles and falls before he truly shone?

Did he also experience the darkest moments like today's slash? Did he also blame himself for not being able to lead his team to victory on some late night?

That past that she had completely missed, that belonged to him, was now particularly important to her.

Her emotions were subtly stirred, and she finally couldn't resist opening that familiar chat window. A thousand words were on her mind, yet she didn't know where to begin. She deleted and rewrote, rewrote and deleted, until finally it boiled down to the most ordinary, yet most tentative, greeting: "What are you doing?"

After sending the message, she held her phone to her chest and stared blankly at the ceiling.

Both of them have been busy lately, and their contact frequency has decreased significantly. When they do chat, it's like they're talking to an online friend. Zhou Zekai isn't a talkative person to begin with, so most of the time she's the one sharing her daily life, and he responds briefly.

Just when she thought she would receive a brief "just finished training" or "getting ready to sleep" message as usual, her phone screen suddenly lit up and vibrated. She picked up her phone and saw that it was a call from "Zhou Zekai".

Zhao Zhinian was startled and instinctively sprang up from the bed, sitting up straight and clearing her throat before answering the phone: "Hello?"

A voice came from the other end: "Hello."

Then, there was a brief silence. Only the soft breathing of each other could be heard through the receiver.

Perhaps because they had both been busy lately, with only occasional text communication, this sudden phone call caught Zhao Zhinian, who was used to the rhythm of a certain "online friend" relationship, off guard. She was initially a little flustered, but the strange silence made her laugh, with a hint of coquettishness that she herself did not realize: "You called me, and you're not going to say anything?"

On the other end of the phone, Zhou Zekai exclaimed "Ah," as if only then realizing that his call had been somewhat abrupt. After hesitating for a moment, he spoke in a low voice, his tone carrying a barely perceptible seriousness: "Fang said, when asked what I was doing, she said... she missed you."

Zhao Zhinian was stunned for a moment, the shyness that had been exposed mixed with a strange sweetness in her heart, turning into a hint of feigned anger: "Your reincarnation love little class hasn't ended yet!"

Zhou Zekai immediately defended the legitimacy of this "non-governmental organization," stating frankly, "We haven't caught up yet."

Zhao Zhinian was both amused and exasperated by his self-righteous and shameless attitude: "Aren't you afraid that what they're teaching is wrong?!"

Zhou Zekai was indeed silent for a moment, as if seriously considering the possibility, before retorting in a low but firm voice: "I also think... you're thinking of me."

Zhao Zhinian's face flushed instantly. She couldn't help but think of the blogger's confident assertion in the video that Zhou Zekai was a shy, unsociable young man. That blogger should really hear Zhou Zekai's "shameless" statement now! See how this "young man" has redefined shyness and timidity!

She instinctively retorted, "Who misses you!"

Zhou Zekai didn't expose him, but a low chuckle came from the other end of the phone, tinged with smugness: "Fang said that some denials... are actually admissions."

Zhao Zhinian silently made a mental note of Fang Minghua's words, wondering what kind of teaching he had given her!

In her panic, she blurted out, "I'm going to hang up!"

“No.” Zhou Zekai replied immediately, his two words crisp and decisive.

Zhao Zhinian suddenly recalled Lin Shuang's analysis of her, which was full of pity and anger at her lack of assertiveness, suggesting that she should be in control in this relationship. However, in reality, perhaps due to their different personalities, she always felt that Zhou Zekai was more at ease. Maybe… she could be a little more willful with him? As soon as this thought arose, she tentatively retorted, "Why should I listen to you? I'm hanging up!"

Zhou Zekai paused for a moment, then softened his voice, but became even more direct: "Then... I miss you."

Zhao Zhinian quickly interrupted him with "Ah ah ah," as if afraid he would say something that would make people blush and their hearts race, but her tone softened: "...Then I'll reluctantly chat with you for a while longer."

Zhou Zekai chuckled softly on the other end, no longer puncturing Zhao Zhinian's stubbornness, and obediently replied, "Okay."

Although it's called "chatting companionship," it's unrealistic to expect Zhou Zekai to talk eloquently; the conversation is mainly supported by Zhao Zhinian.

She shared how Gu Yin would constantly mutter in the game, "When will Captain Zhou come to the tenth server again?"; she shared how Yi Zhan went from being full of hope to being crushed by Wang Jiexi, and how the base was filled with gloom and despair; she also shared funny stories about the interaction between Tiny Herb fans, complaining that every Tiny Herb fan would shout "Long live Wang Jiexi" before going on stage, as if Tiny Herb was some kind of feudal imperial overthrow, and Wang Jiexi could accept it without changing his expression.

"Wang Jiexi wasn't embarrassed at all. When a fan came on stage and shouted 'My King,' he even smiled and took photos with the fan, making a heart shape with his hands," Zhao Zhinian exclaimed. "Sigh, Wang Jiexi is really too powerful. It feels like everyone in Yizhan has had their Dao hearts shattered."

Zhou Zekai listened quietly, occasionally humming in agreement. When he heard about Yizhan's current situation, he paused, then said earnestly, "It will be alright." He seemed to think for a moment, then added, "After all, no contestant will give up...the pursuit of the championship."

These words carried a pure, professional player's conviction, which touched Zhao Zhinian's heart. She couldn't help but ask, "What about you? From season five until now, have you ever felt very sad, very tired, or felt like you couldn't go on?"

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, then his deep, reassuring reply came through: "Yeah." He seemed unaccustomed to long monologues, but ultimately managed to convey the core message: "Season 5, it's exhausting. But, I want to win."

Those few words struck Zhao Zhinian's heart with great force.

As she gained a deeper understanding of the Honor of Kings community, she came to realize the cruel reality of esports: here, everyone except the champion is a loser.

Professional athletes train hard day after day, all they want is to win, to win that one and only championship.

“I think I… understand you guys a little now,” Zhao Zhinian said softly. “I understand why you continue to persevere even though you know it will be difficult.”

She thought of those players who had only a fleeting moment of brilliance in the league. Each of them, to become a professional player, was already a one-in-a-million genius among ordinary people. But after entering this circle full of "monsters," they had to constantly endure setbacks. Many of them didn't even have the chance to lift a trophy throughout their entire professional careers.

Even more cruelly, players from weaker teams may never have a chance to make the playoffs until they retire.

Their names will not be remembered, and their efforts will ultimately amount to nothing more than an insignificant number on the leaderboard.

Every summer, when the champion team lifts the trophy, fans always shout, "This summer belongs to [team name]!" For example, the summer of the eighth season belonged to the cycle.

But for many teams like Yizhan, summer never comes.

Every summer ends exceptionally early. And no one remembers the summer of the losers.

The professional careers of esports players rarely end well. Everyone is striving in the same direction, but the peak of their careers usually only lasts a few years. Ultimately, this path leads to the same destination—retirement.

If the life of a professional athlete were a novel, winning the championship would be the perfect ending. The story could forever remain at the moment of lifting the trophy, freezing the glory into eternity.

But reality never waits for anyone.

Few people can gracefully turn away at their peak, so perseverance becomes the most tragic confrontation with time.

There are no eternal champions in the esports arena. This is almost the inevitable trajectory and fate of every professional player: falling from the peak, lingering amidst doubts, until quietly leaving the stage.

Even someone like Ye Qiu, who has won three championships, still faced criticism when his team, Excellent Era, was in a slump in recent years, ultimately forcing him to retire. Now, he's still struggling in the Challenger League, which is probably a sign of his unwillingness to accept defeat.

Zhou Zekai, after several seasons of ups and downs, finally won his first championship in the eighth season. Now, because of his title as the "best player in the league," he is being scrutinized by countless people, and even his recent fan promotional video has attracted some sharp comments.

People love to create gods and are also keen to see gods fall.

Under the spotlight, the light is mixed with goodwill and malice. Some people are staring at you not to applaud your success, but to wait for the moment you fall to the bottom.

Thinking of this, a feeling of heartache welled up in her heart. Zhao Zhinian felt the atmosphere was a bit heavy, so she changed to a joking tone and said, "I really want to see what kind of life you are living every day without Jiang Botao in the fifth season. How many words do you say each day? How do you communicate with your teammates? But knowing your personality, you probably won't tell me about your past."

“I can talk about it,” Zhou Zekai immediately denied.

Recalling his concise style when he previously "explained" Glory knowledge to him, Zhao Zhinian couldn't help but tease him: "What you said was probably just a general outline, right? 'Training, competition, if you lose, extra training'... something like that?"

On the other end of the phone, Zhou Zekai made a short, nasal sound, as if he disagreed with her stereotype but couldn't find a strong way to refute her accurate "prediction." He remained silent, seemingly conducting some kind of futile mental search, trying to find a less "general" opening, but to no avail.

Hearing the silence on his end, Zhao Zhinian couldn't help but laugh, offering him a way out with her understanding words: "Alright, I won't make things difficult for you. Let's wait until you come to Beijing. I was thinking of inviting Deputy Captain Jiang to dinner to thank him for his previous 'guidance'." She deliberately emphasized "guidance," adding a mischievous touch, "You can tell me your past stories then, and Deputy Captain Jiang can act as your translator. I guarantee it will be vivid and engaging."

"..." Zhou Zekai fell silent. This silence lasted a long time, tinged with obvious dissatisfaction. To have Jiang Botao "translate" him into telling his story... wasn't that tantamount to admitting that he even needed Jiang Botao's help to explain things about dating?

Zhao Zhinian could almost picture him with his brows furrowed slightly, looking somewhat aggrieved yet unable to refute, and her smile deepened.

"Why aren't you saying anything? I think this is a great idea," she teased him deliberately.

“…No need for translation.” Zhou Zekai finally spoke up, his tone carrying a hint of stubbornness and protest that was barely perceptible.

"Oh? So how do you plan to say it?" Zhao Zhinian asked with great interest.

Silence fell again on the other end of the phone, with only the sound of soft breathing, as if someone was struggling with the world-class problem of "how Zhou Zekai can vividly recount his past".

Zhao Zhinian didn't rush him, waiting patiently with a smile. In the quiet of the night, a subtle and intimate atmosphere permeated the air.

"I'll find a way," Zhou Zekai promised finally, his tone carrying a sense of forced determination, as if he were making a solemn pledge for a difficult competition.

Zhao Zhinian rarely saw him so frustrated yet earnest, and her heart softened. She smiled and agreed, "Okay, I'll wait for you."