Chapter 8 — Middle Road Rules

In the following days, HD E-sports entered an unprecedentedly harsh training cycle. From basic last-hit skills to basic communication during the match, Đăng tweaks every bit. Although the training intensity was very high, no one dared to complain after the valuable lesson from the practice match with Le Hong Phong.

However, there was one thing Bảo Châu realized: Hải Đăng never plays with the same team. He just stood behind, observed each person's screen, directed with a sharp voice, and occasionally held the mouse to show them a few small tips. He absolutely hadn't fought a complete match since that solo performance that day.

Châu's curiosity grew more and more. A genius at his peak, why did he suddenly retire and avoid playing like that? Just because of a wrist injury as rumored on the internet? The E-sports world had no shortage of injured players. They often had surgery, rest for a few months and then come back, or switch to becoming professional Analysts or Coaches. Why did Shadow choose to disappear completely, sneaking into a normal high school to doze off?

During recess on Thursday, Châu decided to find out the truth. She carried her familiar box of strawberry milk and approached Đăng's table. As usual, he was sleeping soundly with his face down on the table.

Châu gingerly pulled out a chair and sat down next to her. She took out her phone and opened a chat message with her cousin - a famous semi-professional gamer in the E-sports community, who knew a lot of the secret history of the professional gaming world.

"Brother, do you know the internal affairs of the VG team last year? The matter of the prodigy going to Mid 'Shadow'?" Châu clicked on the keyboard.

Five minutes later, the phone screen lit up. A long text message arrived, making Châu hold her breath as she read it.

*"That case made a lot of noise in the underground world, but the press didn't dare publish it because of lack of evidence. Don't you know? The injury was just an excuse."*

Châu opened her eyes wide and typed quickly: *"So what is the truth?"*

*"Shadow was unfairly accused of match-fixing. In last year's season final, team VG lost shockingly to the bottom team. All the public opinion pointed at Shadow because he had confusing moves and was caught alone at the end of the game. But the truth that people in the industry told each other was... VG's captain, that is, the guy who went to Jungle, was the one who received match-fixing money. That guy intentionally did not give up the blue buff, did not gank, and gave false information (wrong call) to force Shadow into a trap.”*

Châu felt a chill down her spine.

*"When Shadow found out, he made a fuss with the Board of Directors. But the Captain was the son of the main sponsor. The team's shareholders decided to cover up everything, blaming Shadow's playing attitude, forcing him to face an internal penalty and forced to retire early. How could a 16-year-old boy resist the power of money? He collapsed, combined with a chronic wrist injury that was not properly treated, so she quit her job."*

Châu dropped the phone to her lap, feeling a lump in her throat.

She turned to look at Hải Đăng. Her deskmate was still sleeping soundly, breathing evenly, long drooping eyelashes covering his fatigue and light dark circles under his eyes.

A sixteen year old boy. The age when one should be living carefree, happily, enjoying the aura of dedication and talent. However, he was stabbed in the back by the very teammates he trusted, and had his dream taken away in the most cruel and dirty way.

Bảo Châu suddenly understood why Đăng always built a cold wall towards everyone, understood why he said "E-sports is not for cowards who only know how to blame", and understood why he reacted so violently when Tuấn gave up the day before. The ghost of betrayal in E-sports still clings to him.

The corners of Châu's eyes were stinging. She gently placed the box of strawberry milk on Đăng's table, then gingerly took out her uniform jacket and gently placed it on his shoulders, which were shaking slightly from the cold air from the air conditioner.

"Don't worry, Hải Đăng," Châu whispered, her voice thin but firm. "At HD E-sports, no one will abandon you. You protected us, now it's my turn to protect you."

Đăng stirred a little, frowned, but then fell back into a deep sleep, seemingly feeling the warmth from his jacket with a gentle jasmine scent.

That afternoon, entering the computer room, the whole team was surprised to see manager Bảo Châu carrying a small foam box.

"What is it, Ms. Châu? A snack?" Kiên '3G' happily ran out to open the lid of the box.

"Get away! It's not food!" Châu pushed Kiên's hand away. She carefully opened the foam box, took out several medical heat packs and a roll of colorful Kinesiology tape.

She walked straight to where Hải Đăng was busy re-plugging the network cable for the server.

"Give me your hand," Châu ordered, her tone like a controlling mother.

Đăng turned around bewildered, looking at the pile of medical supplies in Châu's hand. "What the hell are you doing? I'm not sick."

"I said show your hands!" Châu glared, grabbed Đăng's right wrist and pulled him towards her. Đăng tried to pull back, but when Châu gently pressed her finger on his wrist joint, a sharp pain ran up her arm, causing Đăng to hiss softly, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I know your wrist has chronic carpal tunnel inflammation due too high APM manipulation for a long time," Châu said, her voice much softer, while carefully applying muscle tape to Đăng's wrist to stabilize the joint. "Don't hide it. The team manager is not a puppet. My job is to ensure the players' health."

Đăng stood still, letting Châu's small but warm hands stick each piece of blue medical tape onto his wrist. The dull pain that had been there for so long seemed to be eased a bit thanks to the heat from the heat pad.

He looked at the girl with ponytail who was diligently taking care of him, and a strange emotion suddenly flashed through his usually cold eyes. He didn't say anything, just turned his face away slightly, hiding his unusually red ears.

"It's done!" Châu patted the back of Đăng's hand. "From now on, every day before and after training, you must apply heat and tape your muscles. No arguments."

The remaining four members stood in the corner of the room, looked at each other, giggled darkly, and whistled teasingly at each other.

"Order! Focus on your machines!" Đăng huffed, hastily pulling down the sleeve of his hoodie to cover the blue tape. But that day's Captain's cold majesty seemed to have evaporated in half before the power of the little manager.

A secret had been uncovered, and an invisible connection had quietly taken root in the old computer room.

That night, after the whole team had left, Đăng lingered alone, sitting in front of the black screen, the blue muscle band still wrapped around his wrist. He opened his old email, which he hadn't touched in eight months, and read for the first time the offensive comments he'd received after the scandal. This time, he didn't feel the suffocating anger like before, only a faint tiredness, like he was re-reading a stranger's diary.

He typed the name "Lê Hoàng" into the search box, then stopped, his finger hovering over the Enter key. There was a part of him that wanted to know where he was, what he was doing, and if he ever had to pay for what he had done. But he closed the browser and turned off the computer.

Not because you forgave. But because he suddenly realized that sitting here looking into the past of the person who harmed him wouldn't get him any further. Meanwhile, here in the engine room, there were five people who had just learned to trust each other, and they needed a sober coach the next morning, not one wallowing in old resentments.

His phone vibrated slightly. A text message from mom: "Have you had dinner yet? Come home soon." Đăng looked at the short text and felt a strange warmth rising in his heart. During the past eight months, after the scandal, the relationship between him and his mother has always been tense, because she believes that it was video games that took away her good son. Now, as he returns to E-sports in a different form — not for fame, but because a group of friends needs him — maybe it's time for him to try to explain it to her.

Đăng stood up, put his hoodie on his shoulders, and turned off the engine room light. Before walking out, he looked back at the five chairs arranged neatly around the table, feeling for the first time in months that he could truly call a place "his".