TCWSITD – Chapter 46.1

Chapter 46 has 2 parts; 46.2 will be uploaded tonight at 20:00 EST.

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Chapter 46.1 – Post-Match Daily Life

After OT won the championship, they trended on over a dozen hot topics. Viewers who hadn’t tuned in to the finals were left completely baffled.

[OT won the championship? Never heard of them.]

[Huh? Weren’t they dead last in the Spring Split?]

[How did they win? Can someone fill me in?]

[Does Lin Jiang have some kind of magic? How did he manage to carry this team?]

[I just watched the match—TG’s strategies were completely countered. OT dominated all three lanes. TG lost fair and square.]

[All other teams are stagnating, while OT keeps improving.]

After discussing OT’s performance, netizens began digging into the feud between Lin Jiang and KUG.

Who would have thought that those who once called Lin Jiang an ungrateful bastard and a loser were now being mercilessly mocked no less than three months later.

[Did you all get your brains eaten or something? Did you really think KUG was unbeatable?]

[I’m seriously laughing my ass off. What rank do you even play to think Lin Jiang’s bad?]

[My rank is not high, but if Old Mao and the others say he’s good, then he must be. How could anyone call Lin Jiang trash?]

[Just look at his win-rate. After the whole Summer Split, Lin Jiang still holds the highest mid lane win-rate. What even is Alike?]

[Only elementary school students would think Alike is better than Lin Jiang.]

But the netizens didn’t stop there.

They started digging up the old posts from when KUG lost at Worlds, where everyone pinned the blame on Lin Jiang.

Back then, it was clearly the AD’s poor performance that cost them the game. Lin Jiang had been dragged down with the rest, yet he still stepped up to defend his teammates.

In the end, Lin Jiang became the scapegoat, condemned by thousands of people.

People cursed him for not being able to play Lucian, making their draft phase passive.

They accused him of relying on outdated strategies, failing to adapt to the meta.

They cursed him for being a liability to KUG—holding an important position, yet failing to deliver the expected results.

Some even claimed he forced the AD to carry the damage-dealing pressure while he only played weak, off-meta picks.

Even their coach said in the interview that it was difficult for him to do his job, saying that he could not choose Lucian as the mid laner if he wanted to, which seemed to be a hint that Lin Jiang had more power than the coaching staff.

In that match, everyone else walked away unscathed—only Lin Jiang was nailed to the cross of shame.

All the glory he’d earned evaporated in an instant. He never tried to explain or defend himself. He just kept moving forward, quietly walking the path he believed in. But from that day on, it had been difficult for everyone to see a smile on Lin Jiang’s face.

In an age where fan loyalty fades fast, Lin Jiang entered the darkest chapter of his career.

Only those who still remembered his brilliance waited and hoped for his return. Yet after two years of perseverance, they received news of him leaving KUG to join OT.

If even KUG had given up on him… was there really still a chance he could rise again?

Fear. Anxiety. Unease.

Voices from all sides questioned Lin Jiang’s choice.c

[Without KUG, you’re nothing.]

[At this age, you still think you can change your fate?]

[Admit it, you’ve been left behind by the times.]

Just when everyone thought Lin Jiang was written off for good, no one expected him to carve a bloody path through the blood and chaos, and stage a miraculous comeback!

Looking at Lin Jiang’s smiling face in the photo, it really felt like the once-unstoppable demon king had returned!

[Wuwuwu I’m crying to death — who can understand this feeling!]

[I never thought I’d live to see Lin Jiang win a championship again… I’m crying.]

[He was dragged through the mud, endured silently for two years, and now the truth comes out so suddenly.]

[Back then, I argued with online haters every day. It was impossible to win against those clueless keyboard warriors.]

[I explained things to them every day, but those elementary school kids even blew up my DMs.]

[My dear Jiang… you’ve finally made it through the hard times!]

Lin Jiang was not the only one who got his name cleared—there was also a once highly influential blogger from back then.

At the time, they reconstructed the details of that match and thoroughly analyzed why Lin Jiang didn’t pick Lucian.

In his blog post, he wrote:

[KUG had gotten so used to River carrying them that their teamplay had become stiff and inflexible. The moment Lin Jiang locked in Lucian, it was like the rest of the team wouldn’t know how to play anymore.]

He even compared it to a foreign team with a similar situation—offering a thoughtful parallel that made it clear Lin Jiang made the right call.

The post was sharp, well-argued, and backed by evidence, yet it was drowned out by the overwhelming tide of public opinion at the time.

Many didn’t even read it and directly called him Lin Jiang’s lackey. Netizens who didn’t know better followed by hurling insults.

Disheartened, the blogger eventually quit the platform, stopped updating entirely. And with that, the community lost one of its rare, high-quality voices.

Now that the truth had come to light, countless people rushed to apologize under his posts, but the blogger hadn’t logged into that account for two years.

When harm has already been done, no amount of apologies can make up for it.

It was hard not to relate it to the relationship between Lin Jiang and KUG. So in the end… he’ll never forgive them, will he?

A finger rests on a photo of Lin Jiang holding the championship trophy. Beneath the massive trophy, there’s no hiding the joy on Lin Jiang’s face.

That was their first year. And at that match… He Gu had been there too.

Then came the second year, the third year.

And then came the fourth year—the year He Gu left.

Why hadn’t he noticed it before?

That year, Lin Jiang smiled less and less. He’d grown up… but he also seemed less happy.

He Gu traced the photos with his fingers before packing them all into a box.

Tap, tap, tap. —footsteps approached.

“Young Master He, everything in the office has been packed. Is there anything else you need us to take care of?”

“No. That’s all.”

He Gu stood up. The only thing he took with him was Lin Jiang’s photo. Everything else… didn’t matter anymore.

As he walked down the hallway, it suddenly occurred to him—

Was this how Lin Jiang had felt when he left that day?

This hallway was so much longer than he remembered.

So long, it felt like a cage.

At the end of the hallway, he saw Alike. He looked stunned, clearly unaware of what was happening. “Ge, why are you moving your stuff?”

He Gu didn’t answer. He simply gave a nod to his assistant to take the box away.

Alike rushed forward, blocking his path. “Ge, what’s going on? What do you mean by this?”

The hallway stretched before him like some kind of monster, ready to devour him whole. For the first time, He Gu realized—without Lin Jiang, KUG had lost all meaning to him.

He stood straight, hands tucked in his pockets.

His voice was cold to the point of biting: “A’Wen, I don’t want KUG anymore. You’re on your own now.”

He gave Alike a light pat on the shoulder and walked past him indifferently.

Alike’s eyes widened, pupils dilating in shock, filled with terror.

He grabbed him on instinct. “Ge, what are you talking about? KUG is your life’s work! You built it yourself from the ground up! Don’t you remember how you even fought with your family over it?”

He Gu hadn’t forgotten. It’s just that once a person has a weakness… they’ll be restricted everywhere.

He reached out and brushed Alike’s hand off, reined in his expression, and walked away calmly.

The light suddenly dimmed, and an overwhelming fear crashed down. Alike reached out desperately but couldn’t grasp him.

“Ge! Ge!”

“What about me? Are you abandoning me too?”

Alike rushed forward only to be stopped by security. He struggled desperately, nearly going insane with effort, but the man never once looked back.

He pleaded bitterly: “Ge! I was wrong, please come back!”

“Ge! Just look at me! I really know I was wrong, I’ll apologize! Can’t we go back to how things were before?”

He Gu didn’t turn back. His eyes remained cold as he strode away.

He understood clearly—to become truly strong, one must first eliminate all weaknesses.

In the past, his weaknesses used to be Lin Jiang and KUG. But now that Lin Jiang was gone, and KUG was no longer what he wanted, he had nothing left to hold him back from now on.

After He Gu left, the work group chat exploded with gossip.

[Ahhh! Is this the end of KUG?!]

[It’s over, the funding has been withdrawn! The office is empty!]

[I told you Young Master He cared more about Lin Jiang. He didn’t take anything except Lin Jiang’s photo.]

[So it really was because of Lin Jiang, wuwuwu…]

[KUG management is so stupid!]

The news quickly spread online. At first, their fans refused to believe it. They thought it was just malicious gossip meant to stir trouble.

Until KUG performed poorly in the Regional Qualifiers, with the entire team dragging things down and losing their only chance.

Now, even the fans couldn’t deny it anymore.

[Is this really the end of KUG?]

[Is Alike just done with pro play or what?]

[What exactly does this guy have to compare with Lin Jiang?]

[Why? After all this time waiting, this is what you show me?]

[I defended you when the whole internet was blackening you, but you’ve disappointed me so much!]

[Leaving without cursing is my last courtesy.]

As news of KUG’s loss in the regional qualifiers, OT began climbing the trending charts. People compared match footage between the two teams and saw the massive gap.

Let’s start with the mid lane. Alike played like a reckless brute, completely useless when targeted or at a disadvantage, just like the passerbys you encounter in ranked matches.

Then there’s the top lane. Previously Lin Jiang’s presence helped stabilize the side lanes. Now, not only was there no support, but the top laner had to provide support instead. Their coordination was as messy as cotton being fluffed.

As for the jungle and bottom lane duo, they used to step up and carry now and then.

But now?

They’re just three speedy drones running around.

Fans were furious, shouting curses at the screen.

Meanwhile, OT had developed into a complete system.

Their top laner could both tank and deal damage, their dual carries took turns dominating matches, and their support and jungle frequently pulled off godlike plays. Every moment in the match is full of surprises.

Old Mao was absolutely right—OT was indeed a team with incredibly high potential!

Countless viewers went back to rewatch the finals, and many who had missed the live broadcast squatted in the streaming platforms to watch the replay.

As more and more people learned about the match, everyone began to change their view of OT. The number of fans skyrocketed, and the players themselves got a taste of the spotlight.

Lin Jiang and Shen Ju already had a solid fan following, so their growth wasn’t as dramatic.

Song Zhixu ended up being the biggest beneficiary of the sudden surge in attention.

Overnight, his entire history was dug up. From his early days of “losing to everyone” to his current state of “holding his own against anyone.”

The huge improvement attracted many fans, with many seeing him as a promising talent worth betting on.

When Song Zhixu woke up the next day and saw his flooded notifications and exploding follower count, his first thought was that he was being cyberbullied.

Only after opening the messages did he realize that he had actually gone viral!

He scrambled out of bed to share the excitement with Shen Ju: “Dude, dude, check the internet! I think I’m famous now…”

He peeked over the edge of the bed. “Huh? Where’d he go?”

The tournament was over. Where else could he go?

At that moment, Shen Ju was out on a morning run with Lin Jiang.

The night before, he had casually asked Lin Jiang what his plans were for the next morning. Lin Jiang had mentioned he might go for a run if he had nothing else to do.

So Shen Ju made sure to wake up extra early, and sure enough, he heard Lin Jiang getting ready to head out.

He immediately got ready, and then naturally followed Lin Jiang’s pace for a morning run.

Most professional players didn’t prioritize exercise, and their health often suffered as a result. Lin Jiang’s philosophy had always been like this. “Only when your body is healthy can your mind stay sharp.”

Since Shen Ju had taken the initiative to join him, Lin Jiang was more than happy to have him along.

After two laps around the park, Lin Jiang slowed to a stop, feeling it was enough for the day. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” Shen Ju replied, keeping pace beside him. “Captain, can you call me to run with you from now on?”

“Sure, but if it’s during break, I won’t be able to call you.”

“Captain, are you going home or back to your apartment during the break?”

“Back to the apartment.”

Lin Jiang had bought a small riverside apartment where he could breathe fresh air in the morning and enjoy the river view.

As he spoke, he glanced over at Shen Ju. “What about you?”

“Me?” Shen Ju had no plans to go home—returning would only earn him a scolding. He jogged a few steps ahead, testing the waters. “Captain… can I crash at your apartment?”

His ears burned the moment the words left his mouth. He was about to backtrack and say he was joking—

Who would have thought Lin Jiang would reply the very next second, “Sure.”

“Anyway, living alone is boring. You can come help me clean, and I’ll cook for you. I also have a two-player game I want to play but never had the chance. You can play it with me.”

If Shen Ju hadn’t restrained himself, he probably would have laughed out loud on the spot.

He lowered his head and mumbled an “Mm.” Afraid Lin Jiang might think he wasn’t sincere enough, he added, “I won’t stay for free. I’ll buy you lots of good food.”

Lin Jiang chuckled, a laugh so soft and warm it made Shen Ju’s heart flutter, like it might just take flight.

Shen Ju thought to himself, if one day Lin Jiang truly accepted him completely, he would probably be so happy he’d die on the spot.

After their run, Lin Jiang took him to buy water. Both of them downed a bottle before catching their breath.

Lin Jiang wiped his sweat with a towel and, noticing Shen Ju didn’t have one, offered his own. “I’ve used it already, don’t mind, okay?”

How could Shen Ju possibly mind? He took the towel and wiped his neck, catching a faint whiff of mint. Instantly, his neck felt hot, and the hormones in his body began to stir restlessly.

The two sat on a park bench. The morning breeze was so refreshing it cleared their minds.

Every now and then, a couple of birds would land near their feet, adding a bit of amusement to their morning.

How wonderful.

Shen Ju couldn’t help but wonder—if he and Lin Jiang were truly together one day, would moments like this become part of his everyday life?

The thought alone made his throat tighten, and he swallowed unconsciously.

He sneaked a glance at Lin Jiang and saw him turning his head to look at a small dog nearby, a smile in his eyes that he couldn’t quite hide.

Suddenly, Shen Ju asked, “Captain, do you like dogs?”

“Yeah, I do. But my mom’s allergic to dog fur, so we couldn’t have pets at home. I picked up a stray once when I was a kid, but it was given away after just a few days. Later, when I went pro and bought my own place, I had to stay at the team house long-term, so I never got the chance to have a dog…”

Sometimes, Shen Ju couldn’t help but feel that he and Lin Jiang were alike in more ways than one.

He, too, had kept all sorts of odd pets as a child, but in the end, they were all thrown away.

Eventually, the idea of keeping pets faded from his mind entirely. He grew indifferent to everything, as if nothing really mattered to him.

The first time he ever felt the urge to care for something was when he saw Lin Jiang holding a cup of milk tea. He thought then that if he could see Lin Jiang drinking milk tea every day, that would be the happiest thing in the world.

But that was a secret he would never say aloud.

Too much affection would scare him away.

The little dog sniffed around and wandered over to their feet. Lin Jiang couldn’t help but reach out and give it a pat.

The little dog was ecstatic—bouncing around Lin Jiang’s hand, licking and nuzzling, radiating a kind of innocence so sweet it made you want to scoop it up and take it home in your pocket.

Lin Jiang laughed out loud, clearly smitten. The way he played with the dog was unbearably gentle.

Even though he was the one teasing the dog, Shen Ju felt like he was the one being teased.

His face heated instantly. He buried his face into his raised collar, hiding the flush creeping up his ears, gaze cast downward but unwilling to look away from Lin Jiang—not even for a second.

He really liked him.

He liked him so much.

Every moment, he wanted to reach out and hold him.

He wanted to feel his warmth.

The puppy played for a while and then ran off to find its owner. Lin Jiang watched longingly, turning back twice as they walked away.

Shen Ju, face still buried in his collar, suddenly blurted out,“Captain, let’s get a dog.”

Lin Jiang laughed and refused, “If the two of us raise a dog, won’t it starve to death?”

Shen Ju didn’t bring it up again, and Lin Jiang thought he had dropped the idea. But after a while, he heard him say, “Let’s get a dog after we retire.”

Those words unexpectedly struck a chord with Lin Jiang. Retiring and raising a dog was his most cherished dream—but this was the first time he’d heard someone say “we.”

Truth be told, he had thought about it before: after retirement, he would buy a house in a quiet place and live there with someone he loved. They would raise a dog together, take walks, and do whatever they wanted…

…He just never imagined it would be Shen Ju.

Lin Jiang coughed lightly, cutting off his own train of thought. “What are you thinking? When did I ever say I’d raise one with you?”

The rejected Shen Ju wasn’t discouraged. He quickly caught up to Lin Jiang’s pace, not letting it hinder the fantasies in his heart.

He was already thinking about what breed they should get.

After a while, he asked, “Captain, do you think a Samoyed is better, or a Golden Retriever?”

Lin Jiang: “???”

“Puppy Shen, put away those dangerous thoughts in your head. We’re not even together.”

“I was just thinking…”

“Don’t think.”

“…Okay.”

The two returned to the base. Lin Jiang, worried someone might notice anything unusual, hurried upstairs in long strides.

But Shen Ju stubbornly followed close behind. As they passed through the hallway, he lowered his voice and asked again: “A Samoyed… what do you think? Feels like it suits you, Captain…”

Lin Jiang quickly shut the door behind him, feeling both annoyed and amused.

He really did think that Shen Ju’s personality was kind of like a dog—fierce and snappy toward others, but obedient and clingy at home, always sticking close—occasionally stubborn just for the hell of it.

Honestly, it really did fit.

Lin Jiang suddenly felt that whether they got a dog or not didn’t matter. Having Shen Ju around was more than enough.

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