Chapter 37 has 2 parts; 37.2 will be uploaded tonight at 21:30 EST.
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Chapter 37.1 – Even If He Doesn’t Like The World
Song Zhixu relaxed his body and leaned on the same step as Lin Jiang.
His tone was casual, as if discussing someone else’s affairs. “The one asking me for money? That’s my stepmom. My real mom died when I was born. It was a medical accident. The hospital paid a hefty settlement. My dad raised me until I was three, then remarried to her.”
“At first, she talked sweetly. She said since I didn’t have a mom, and she had no son, I was like her own. I even kowtowed, served tea, and called her ’Mom.’ In our town, this was a very serious matter. It meant she was formally accepting me as her own son and would treat me like her biological child.”
“At the beginning, she was really good to me. When others laughed at me for not having a mother, she stood up for me. When my school bag was torn, she stayed up all night to mend it for me. She would make delicious food for me to share with my classmates, and even went to parent-teacher meetings for me. Back then, I truly saw her as my real mother. I felt that she was sent by my birth mother to protect me.”
“And then,” Song Zhixu murmured, eyes on the beer can in his hand, the light in them dimming, “She had a son. Then a daughter.”
His thoughts were dragged back to that terrifying stormy night. Rain drifted in through the balcony window, and lightning flashed like demons trying to devour him. He asked his stepmother if he could not sleep on the balcony that night.
The woman held his hand and said earnestly, “Be good, okay? You have a little brother and sister now. Of course the room has to be for them. You’re older, you’re the big one—you’re supposed to protect them. Mom’s been good to you, hasn’t she? You should love them the way Mom loves you. Now go on, don’t wake them up.”
Through the crack in the door, he watched his stepmother patiently coax them to sleep and suddenly realized he had never been comforted like that.
Perhaps the signs had always been there.
He just chose to ignore it.
“Back then, I didn’t understand anything. I just gave my all foolishly, naively believing the love we received was the same.”
“They always told me that our family is poor, that we could barely afford steamed buns, and that my allowance was scraped together from nothing. So I learned to be sensible very early—I never asked for anything beyond my basic needs.”
“One day, when my siblings came back from their school in the city, I went to pick them up myself. That’s when I found out they were attending the most expensive middle school, ate the finest seafood, and wore beautiful custom-made school uniforms.”
Song Zhixu suddenly found it laughable. “I went to the shabbiest high school in town, with a monthly food allowance of 300-yuan. At my worst, I only ate one meal a day. My family told me we had no money. My school uniform was all tattered but they wouldn’t even buy me a new one—they just sewed and patched it up again and again. Other kids mocked me for being motherless, and I fought them. Now I realize they weren’t wrong. I really didn’t have a mother from the start…”
A tear fell heavily onto his hand, and he wiped it away indifferently.
“Maybe the most unfair thing in this world…” he murmured, “…is when the love’s given to you, but the money goes to someone else.”
“They always said I was the one they loved most, but in reality, my mother’s death benefits and all my father’s salary—all of the money were spent on my siblings. I wasn’t even allowed a part of the leftovers…”
Song Zhixu was an adult now. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what was trapping him and he knew how to break free.
He just didn’t know where to go after breaking free. Staying shackled to them like this at least meant he still had a home.
His body felt like it was sinking into the ocean, he didn’t know how to get out but he was too exhausted to resist the slow descent.
He had once fantasized about someone pulling him out, but everyone was afraid of his family, avoiding the issue like the plague.
Even Duren—kind-hearted to a fault—would hesitate and step back when it came to facing his relatives.
Song Zhixu smiled and asked, “Can I have a cigarette?”
Lin Jiang checked his pack—there were two left. He handed one to Song Zhixu.
Watching how naturally Song Zhixu held the cigarette, Lin Jiang asked, “You smoke often?”
“Yeah,” Song Zhixu said, exhaling smoke slowly. “When I was a kid, my grades were not good. I hung out with the kids in town and picked up smoking and drinking. My stepmother would always pinch my ear, then make me kneel and reflect on myself. She would warn my siblings not to end up a useless person like me. She told them to be someone who contributed to the family.”
The love he received was never equal to his siblings, and yet he was still expected to give the same amount as them in return. It was so unfair.
Lin Jiang spoke up for him indignantly. “You’re supporting your entire family right now. How can they say you’re not contributing?”
“That’s the joke,” Song Zhixu laughed bitterly. “I send home 200,000 to 300,000-yuan every year, and they still think I’m useless. Even my relatives look down on me. My stepmom often says that once my younger siblings graduate, they’ll be ten thousand times more useful than me. She tells me to keep sending them money so they’ll be able to ‘repay my kindness’ when they grow up.”
“But damn, these are the same kids who fought me over an apple during New Year’s—and I’m supposed to expect filial piety from them?”
“I’ve been throwing cash at them for years—not even a ripple in return.”
Song Zhixu took a drag of his cigarette, laughing at himself. He’d long known his family was a bottomless pit—no matter how much he poured in, he’d never get what he truly wanted.
“Then why not just cut ties?” Lin Jiang asked.
Song Zhixu lowered his head despondently. “I’ve thought about it… but they cling to me like flies.”
Back when he first joined the team, his stepmother had hounded him daily about his salary. She even tried to take control of his bank card.
It was Duren who fought tooth and nail to protect him then, patiently explaining to them: “Youth trainees don’t get salaries, just a little stipends. He can only make ten-thousand a month until he starts competing. Do you understand?”
He remembered her expression—twisted in disgust, her voice dripping with scorn. She almost dragged him home that very day, calling Duren a scam artist, saying the whole team was a sham.
At that time, he was still underage and had to compromise with his mother so he could be allowed to compete. He promised to send home his entire salary every month.
Later, he started competing and the money he made increased.
His stepmother came sniffing around again.
She had a nephew in the esports scene—knew exactly how much Song Zhixu could earn. The two would constantly scheme together when they have nothing to do.
The slightest discrepancy in Song Zhixu’s remittances would trigger a loud, guilt-laced performance about how unfilial he was.
Duren had helped him tremendously over the years. Song Zhixu did not want to burden the team further, so he simply just let them do whatever they wanted.
He’d just wallow in the mud like this. At least it will give him some peace and quiet.
The faint scent of alcohol lingered in the night air as his thoughts drifted.
Lin Jiang couldn’t judge his family situation, but he knew Song Zhixu would break free from them eventually—they couldn’t trap him forever.
When oppressed to the extreme, people either snap or rebel.
Just like he once did—tearing up a contract, slamming the door on his way out.
But he looked at Song Zhixu and wondered—when that moment comes for him, what will be left?
Will he also get the chance to choose again like himself?
He wasn’t sure. Song Zhixu might not be as lucky as he was.
The aluminum can in his hand creaked under the pressure of his grip, and with genuine sincerity, warned him: “Cut your losses in time. Love goes both ways—one-sided giving always leads to trouble.”
“I’Il have Duren get you an extra bank card—one for your basic salary to handle family matters, and another for you to keep and save some money for emergencies.”
Song Zhixu had thought Lin Jiang might look down on his background or pity him like Duren did, but he never expected him to offer such sincere advice.
He lowered his head and couldn’t help but smile.
Even if he doesn’t like the world, at least he likes Lin Jiang.[mfn]纵然这个世界为他所不喜，至少林江是他喜欢的 (zòng rán zhè ge shì jiè wèi tā suǒ bù xǐ, zhì shǎo Lín Jiāng shì tā xǐ huān de) – the world is cruel, but Lin Jiang is his warmth—an emotional anchor in chaos.[/mfn]
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll listen to you.”
Lin Jiang didn’t look down on him, nor did he offer charity from a high pedestal. He simply sat beside him and calmly gave him the courage to break free from his struggles.
“Captain, do you think what I’m doing is right?”
“I don’t know,” Lin Jiang said gently. “But if it makes you unhappy, then it’s definitely wrong.”
Song Zhixu was drunk.
Looking at Lin Jiang who was right beside him, he really wanted to hug him.
But he didn’t have the courage. Maybe he never would, even if years passed. Still, the beating of his heart at this moment was undeniably real.
“Captain…”
His phone suddenly vibrated, and Song Zhixu answered without checking the caller.
On the other end, a voice he knew too well exploded through the speaker. “Song Zhixu, you really are something! If Xiaoshan hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have known you’ve become quite the celebrity in your circle! You send clumps of change home every month, who do you think you’re fooling here? You might as well give it to beggars. Do you even know your siblings’ tuition is still waiting to be paid? Your dad and I are borrowing money everywhere, and here you are, hoarding it all for yourself!”
Then his father’s voice chimed in, “Let me talk to him.”
“Zhixu, let Dad talk to you. The family really has no money left. Your mother and I ate nothing but steamed buns yesterday just to save for your siblings’ tuition. We’re doing this for your own good. When your brother and sister succeed in the future, you’ll enjoy the benefits too, won’t you?”
Now that Song Zhixu was older, he understood money better and couldn’t stand hearing phrases like “we’re doing this for your own good,” “the family has no money,” or “eating steamed buns.”
The wind stung his eyes as he asked, “I send you hundreds of thousands every year, and you’re still so poor you’re eating steamed buns? Where did the money go?”
His father fell silent, and his stepmother snapped at him, “Useless. Let me handle this.”
The phone changed hands again, and his stepmother’s tearful voice came through. “Your sister isn’t good at academics, so she’s taking the art route. Painting lessons and training sessions, each costing 70,000 or 80,000-yuan at a time! Do you have any idea how competitive other parents are? She’s already behind. If we don’t catch up now, do you want her to fail the college entrance exams?”
Song Zhixu looked away, the wind making it hard to keep his eyes open. “If she can’t get into college, then she can start working and help support the family. Isn’t that what you said to me back then?”
The other end erupted in anger. “Song Zhixu! Are you cursing your own sister? You just can’t stand to see her succeed, can you? Do you want her to end up as useless as you? Do you even think your industry is any good? I asked Xiaoshan–you’ve only got a few years to make money. Hurry up and invest in your siblings now. You will have to rely on them to support you when you are old!”
Normally, Song Zhixu wouldn’t bother arguing, but with Lin Jiang beside him today, he didn’t want to seem weak.
Peeling the label off his beer can, he muttered, “If she can’t even get into college, who exactly is she supposed to be taking care of?”
The line sent his stepmother into a frenzy. On the other end, she shrieked, her voice nearly incoherent—calling him cruel, heartless, a child born bad.
Song Zhixu slammed his hand over the phone, waiting for the shouting to die down before answering again with a calm voice. “I swear, I don’t have a single penny left. Even if you killed me, there’s nothing more to take. If you think I’m lying, have Xiaoshan come see me. I’ll show him the bank statements. He knows this stuff—let him check how much is really left in my account.”
The line went silent immediately.
Probably unwilling to lose her cash cow, she quickly switched to emotional manipulation.
Same old tricks, recycled without any new lies.
Honestly, Song Zhixu felt a sting of disappointment. They couldn’t even put in the effort to come up with fresh lies—draining hundreds of thousands from him every year broke his heart.
He glanced over at Lin Jiang and saw him watching quietly.
At this moment, this was enough—just sitting side by side, drinking, talking, always knowing there was someone right there beside him to lean on.
Suddenly filled with courage to defy the world, Song Zhixu said into the phone, “You know what, why don’t you send me 500-yuan? I’m completely broke right now and can’t even afford instant noodles. After Xiaoshan checks my bank account, maybe he can treat me to a meal, too?”
The voice on the line erupted again, cursing him for being useless, but Song Zhixu barely flinched.
After hanging up and staring at this mess that is his life, Song Zhixu realized it didn’t hurt as much anymore.
“No money left, only my life remains. Let them do what they want.”
He clinked the can with Lin Jiang and downed his drink in one go. He wasn’t much of a drinker, so after a few cans, his cheeks flushed red, and nonsense started spilling from his mouth.
“My father’s a selfish man who never loved anyone but himself. He didn’t love my mom, didn’t love me, and didn’t even care for my stepmom. He just likes having someone to cook, do laundry, a wife and kids to keep warm by the stove, so he always does whatever my stepmom wants.”
“I don’t love him either. Never met my mother, so when my stepmother showed me the slightest kindness, I was pathetically grateful like a dog.”
“I don’t know if it’s because people’s hearts are fickle, or if she was always like that.”
“There was a long time,” Song Zhixu murmured, “where I couldn’t tell if she really saw me as her own son… or if it was just another way to keep me under control.”
“I could still fool myself when there was no comparison. But after my siblings came, the difference was obvious. If she truly loved me, she would not be willing to limit me to only 300-yuan a month for living expenses…”
“Sometimes I’m glad I grew up. Cheap affection like that doesn’t fool me anymore. But other times… I hate that I did. There’s nothing left that makes me feel truly happy.”
Song Zhixu spoke calmly. He hadn’t meant to cry.
But then Lin Jiang quietly said, “You still have us. Once we win the championship, there’ll be plenty to smile about. Your best days are yet to come.”
He leaned into Lin Jiang’s knee, arms wrapped tightly around his calf like a drowning man clinging to driftwood. His voice was choked and pitiful. “Captain… you’re really such a good person…”
Lin Jiang didn’t speak. He just quietly stayed by his side, patting his shoulder in comfort.
Song Zhixu had been holding it in for too long and he needed to cry it all out. Once the tears were shed and his mind cleared, he’d be able to move on.
By 2 AM, he had cried himself exhausted and sat on the steps, leaning against Lin Jiang’s knee for a breather.
Lin Jiang’s phone vibrated—tt was a message from Shen Ju.
[Shen Ju: Still talking with Song Zhixu?]
[Lin Jiang: Yeah. He’s upset and had some drinks.]
[Shen Ju: Where?]
[Lin Jiang: Rooftop.]
It took Shen Ju less than five minutes to reach the rooftop. Judging by the way his chest heaved with every breath, he’d taken the stairs at a sprint.
He walked over to Lin Jiang and saw the scattered beer cans on the ground. Song Zhixu was still clinging to Lin Jiang’s leg, crying like a fool.
Shen Ju kicked him lightly. “Get up. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
But Song Zhixu only switched targets, clutching Shen Ju’s leg instead, wailing louder, sobbing about all the hardship he’d suffered over the years.
Lin Jiang couldn’t help but laugh. “Let him cry. He’s been holding it in for a long time.”
As he spoke, he casually took a sip of beer, tilting his head back slightly, unaware of how alluring the angle made him look.
Shen Ju stared at him intently, his dark eyes unreadable.
A strange feeling rose in Lin Jiang’s chest. He looked at Shen Ju in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
Shen Ju averted his gaze and hauled Song Zhixu up from the ground. “Song Zhixu gets handsy when he’s drunk. You shouldn’t drink alone with him in the future.”
Lin Jiang chuckled again. “Got it.”
There was still half a can of beer left in his hand, and the alcohol hadn’t quite worn off yet. Feeling too lazy to get up, he said, “Take him down first. I’lI finish this and come after.”
He barely lifted the can to his lips when Shen Ju took it from his hand, tipped it back, and drained it in one long gulp.
He handed the empty can back without a word. “There. It’s finished. Come on, I’ll clean this up later.”
Lin Jiang stared at the empty can in his hand, absentmindedly crumpling it. A subtle ache rippled through his chest.
When he looked up, Shen Ju had already slung Song Zhixu over his shoulder and was carrying him away.
It was strange—Shen Ju was younger than him, so why did he give off such a reliable vibe?
Just like in their matches. Lin Jiang could charge ahead without hesitation, knowing Shen Ju would always be there to clean up the aftermath.
Realizing his thoughts were veering into dangerous territory, Lin Jiang quickly reined them in.
He forced his sluggish body up and started gathering the cans. Before he could pick up more than a few, Shen Ju came running back up.
Lin Jiang blinked. “That fast?”
Even using the elevator wouldn’t have been that quick.
Shen Ju’s forehead was still glistening with sweat. He took the bag from Lin Jiang’s hands and swiftly cleaned up the mess before helping him downstairs.
People in the industry called Shen Ju “The Crown Prince,”—arrogant, foul-tempered, impossible to get close to.
Before joining, Lin Jiang had braced himself for the worst, only to find Shen Ju completely different from what he’d imagined.
“Did you take Song Zhixu back?”
“Yeah, dumped him in the shower.”
Lin Jiang frowned. “He was that drunk—can he even manage a shower?”
“No idea,” Shen Ju said casually. “I turned on the cold water. He snapped out of it immediately.”
Lin Jiang: ???
The elevator dinged open. Lin Jiang swayed on his feet, and Shen Ju quickly stepped in to steady him.
Too lazy to hold himself up, Lin Jiang let his full weight sink into Shen Ju’s shoulder.
After trying and failing to straighten up, he settled back comfortably against him.
Shen Ju’s arm stiffened. He lowered his head to look at Lin Jiang resting against his shoulder—close enough that he could catch the faint mint scent lingering on Lin Jiang’s skin.
The alcohol had tinted Lin Jiang’s skin a soft pink. It hadn’t been obvious on the rooftop, but now under the light, his fair complexion flushed with warmth, looking irresistibly biteable.
Shen Ju’s throat moved involuntarily again.
He figured if Lin Jiang knew what was going through his mind right now, he’d probably shed his usual good temper and beat him up without hesitation.
“Puppy Shen,” Lin Jiang looked at him, “You didn’t overtrain today, did you? Why are you still up so late?”
Shen Ju caught another whiff of alcohol on him, frowned slightly, and grumbled, “Captain, you didn’t apply medicine for me today.”
Lin Jiang really thought he resembled an obedient puppy. He pinched Shen Ju’s cheek and coaxed him, “It’s too late today. Can’t do it tonight. I’ll do it tomorrow, okay?”
His voice was too gentle, especially when coaxing someone—enough to make one’s heart tingle.
A flush crept up Shen Ju’s ears. “Mm.”
Then he turned to look at him sideways, his throat bobbing faintly. “Captain, let me take you back to your room.”
“Mm.”
The elevator dinged open. Shen Ju supported him all the way back.
The key was in Lin Jiang’s trouser pocket, but after fumbling for a long while, he still couldn’t get it out. In the end, Shen Ju pulled out his spare key and unlocked the door.
Yes—he’d always had a spare to Lin Jiang’s room.
Lin Jiang stared at the key in his hand, puzzled. “Where’d you get this?”
Shen Ju answered calmly, “There was an extra. I forgot to give it to you.”
“Oh, that’s fine then.” Lin Jiang gave his shoulder a light pat, a subtle gesture for him to let go. “It’s your room, after all—I’m just crashing for now.”
Shen Ju thought that it was a temporary stay, but if it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have given up this room, not in a million years.
Just as his thoughts settled, he looked up to see Lin Jiang stripping off his clothes.
The rooftop breeze and alcohol had left Lin Jiang sticky with sweat. He stripped off his shirt without a second thought and tossed it over the rack, then casually undid his belt while walking toward the bathroom to run the water.
Shen Ju had seen everything. Caught off guard, he spun around fast. “Captain, if you’re showering, I’ll leave you be.”
The sound of running water came from inside, stirring restless thoughts. “Mm, could you toss my clothes in the washer for me? Thanks.”
Shen Ju inhaled deeply, stuffed the clothes into the laundry basin, and carried them outside to the washing machine.
His body was burning up. Without thinking much more, he peeled off his own clothes too, figuring he might as well throw them in with the rest.
Suddenly, Lin Jiang’s voice came from inside the room, “Shen Ju, are you still there?”
Shen Ju hurriedly pulled his clothes back on. “Yeah.”
“Can you pass me the towel hanging on the balcony?”
Shen Ju was speechless.
It seems Lin Jiang had zero sense of danger. Did he act this carelessly in KUG too?
With a sigh, Shen Ju reluctantly brought the towel to the bathroom door, hesitating. “Captain, even though I’m a guy, I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to—”
Before he could finish, the bathroom door swung open. A wave of steam rolled out.
Before Shen Ju could see clearly, Lin Jiang reached out, took the towel from his hand, said a quick “Thanks,” and shut the door again.
His heart was thudding so hard it felt like it might burst, even his lashes quivered with the rhythm.
Breath short and shaky, Shen Ju’s wide eyes still hadn’t recovered from the shock. His hand on the doorframe curled inward on instinct, fingertips faintly trembling.
The sound of the shower seemed to echo in his chest, spreading like vines that tangled around him, drowning him.
He couldn’t stay in this room any longer.
Shen Ju quickly retreated. “Captain, if there’s nothing else, I’ll head back first.”
“Wait,” Lin Jiang’s voice came through the steam, water suddenly cut off. “Take the ointment on the table and apply it yourself later.”
Shen Ju no longer had the brain to think, he said casually, “You can keep it for yourself.”
Then he fled, shutting the door behind him.
The bathroom door opened again, revealing Lin Jiang wrapped in a towel—
Do you dare to say it again in front of me?
Back in his room, Shen Ju had another dream.
He dreamed of Lin Jiang showering, separated only by a thin curtain. The cramped bathroom was unbearably hot.
The damp curtain reflected the rose tattoo on his waist. Even without seeing anything else, just imagining it alone was enough to make his blood boil.
Just as his rationality was about to snap…
Shen Ju jolted awake, horrified by his own dream.
Then he slapped himself hard. How could he be so perverted?
— — — —
