TCWSITD – Chapter 34.1

Chapter 34 has 3 parts; 34.2 and 34.3 will be uploaded tonight at 20:00 and 21:00 EST, respectively

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Chapter 34.1 – He Will Leave OT

Shen Ju had a nightmare.

In the dream, he was surrounded by monsters wearing white masks, each revealing a gaping mouth, grinning at him.

The sharp, piercing noise made his head feel like it was splitting open.

Shen Ju wanted to tell them to get lost, but his throat felt strangled, unable to make a sound.

The monsters grew human limbs and walked toward him, their white masks merging with their faces, turning them into emotionless puppets.

Overwhelming fear pressed down, suffocating him. He could only curl his body into a tight ball.

It’s so cold. His body was so cold.

Until a hand touched his forehead. “Still feverish?”

The nightmare miraculously vanished. The white turned soft, like a quilt warmed by sunlight, carrying a faint scent of mint.

Shen Ju fell into a deep sleep.

He didn’t know how long he slept before slowly opening his eyes.

White curtains filled his vision, swaying gently in the breeze, carrying the unpleasant scent of disinfectant.

But beneath it lingered—

A clean, faint whisper of mint.

Shen Ju gradually opened his eyes to find Lin Jiang curled up and asleep beside his bed, leaning slightly, sleeping in a way that seemed to make space just for him.

Lin Jiang… had been with him all this time?

He cautiously reached out, brushing against Lin Jiang’s drooping eyelashes.

He wanted to take him home, hide him away where no one could find him.

Before his fingers even made contact, Lin Jiang’s eyes opened.

Those clear eyes appeared to be confused and dazed, blinking twice before slowly sharpening into awareness. “You’re awake?”

Shen Ju quietly hummed, his voice nasal like a puppy.

“Has the fever gone down?”

Lin Jiang pressed his palm to Shen Ju’s forehead. “Much better now.”

Lin Jiang tried to pull back his pinned arm, only for numbness to instantly spread.

Shen Ju’s fingers gently massaged it, careful not to cause any discomfort.

As the numbness faded, the warmth of Shen Ju’s fingertips lingered on his skin, stirring something strange in Lin Jiang’s heart.

Shen Ju helped massage his hand, his collar slightly askew to reveal his collarbone.

He looked every bit the pampered young master—soft, refined, like a flower kept safe in a greenhouse.

Caught off guard, Lin Jiang didn’t know where to look. He pulled his hand away. “You should rest. I’ll go get something to eat.”

But Shen Ju tugged him back, voice pitiful. “Captain, I hate the hospital smell. I can’t eat here. Let’s go home.”

Lin Jiang hated hospitals, too. In his past life, as his hand injury worsened until he could no longer compete, He Gu had constantly forced him to go to the hospital. The double pressure had made the antiseptic smell nauseating to him.

He didn’t ask why. Instead, he packed up their things, completed the discharge procedures, and took Shen Ju home.

After falling ill, Shen Ju had grown somewhat dependent on him. In the car, their legs occasionally brushed against each other with the slight sway of the vehicle.

After a sudden brake, Shen Ju instinctively grabbed his hand then quickly let go.

Lin Jiang couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Before he could dwell on it, his phone rang. It was Duren calling.

Lin Jiang briefly updated him on the situation, and Duren then asked to speak with Shen Ju.

The other end said a lot, but Shen Ju’s responses were limited to absentminded “mhms,” like a rebellious teenager.

Lin Jiang couldn’t help but smile.

Because Shen Ju reminded him of his younger self.

Back then, he too had refused to bow to anyone—until life eventually forced him to lower his head.

Back at the base, Lin Jiang told Shen Ju to get some rest.

But by the time he went upstairs to change and came back down, Shen Ju had already rejoined the team and started training.

There were still seven days until the playoffs began, and OT had a few more matches to wait through, meaning they had over ten days to prepare.

He reminded Shen Ju, “You don’t need to push yourself so hard. Take a couple of days off.”

Shen Ju’s mouth agreed, but his hands didn’t.

As Lin Jiang poured himself coffee, he marveled at how Shen Ju was the most hardworking member of the entire team. He went over to check Shen Ju’s condition—still impeccable, as if the illness hadn’t affected him at all.

It’s really good to be young.

But as Lin Jiang set down his cup, he froze—then grabbed Shen Ju’s hand. “You’re bleeding.”

The IV puncture wound wasn’t large, but whether from excessive force during training or something else, blood had seeped through the bandage.

Shen Ju’s ranked match had already entered the countdown for champion selection. He tried to use his other hand to pick a champion, but Lin Jiang firmly stopped him.

“Rest.”

Lin Jiang’s tone carried a sharp edge.

When the countdown ended, the game exited automatically.

Shen Ju tried to queue up again.

Lin Jiang was truly furious now. “I told you to take a rest. Why won’t you listen? Being sick will only slow you down. Go rest. Now.”

The atmosphere suddenly turned tense.

Shen Ju was the most rebellious in the team; no one had dared order him around like this before.

The atmosphere suddenly turned tense.

Shen Ju was the most undisciplined member of the team. No one dared to order him around like this.

A’Deng and Zhou Wen both stopped their actions. Song Zhixu, like a worried mother hen, tried to mediate while keeping up with his own gameplay. “Shen Ju, stop making trouble. If you’re sick, go rest. The captain’s doing this for your own good.”

Shen Ju clenched the mouse tightly, softly resisting, “I’m not going.”

This was the first time Shen Ju had been so disobedient. Lin Jiang reflected on whether he had done something wrong, but in the end, he still didn’t understand him.

“Shen Ju, be honest with me. Why are you overexerting yourself like this?”

Shen Ju’s grip on the mouse tightened. Finally, he admitted, “Because if OT loses… you’re going to leave.”

The impact of those words was no different from that of a deep-sea torpedo. Everyone’s expressions shifted in varying degrees of shock.

They had considered this issue before, but always held onto a sliver of hope, thinking that perhaps if OT achieved better results, Lin Jiang might consider staying.

Shen Ju’s words snapped them out of their illusions.

If merely qualifying for Worlds was the goal, Lin Jiang could achieve that with any team.

What Lin Jiang wanted was the World Championship—something OT simply couldn’t give him.

A’Deng nervously grabbed Zhou Wen’s sleeve, his face full of worry. Zhou Wen was equally anxious. Both of them stared at Lin Jiang with unease.

Song Zhixu’s focus was shattered. He had gained a significant advantage in the current game but made a crucial mistake at the last moment, getting countered and killed.

Staring at the grayed-out screen, he couldn’t continue. He pushed back his chair and stood up.

“Shen Ju, cut it out. The captain has the freedom to choose where he goes.” He tried to grab Shen Ju, but was brushed off.

Song Zhixu fell silent, his eyes stinging with unshed tears.

He wasn’t handling this any better than Shen Ju—he had just been enduring it.

Lin Jiang hadn’t wanted to bring up such a heavy subject. He feared it would affect the team’s morale. But now, it seemed that keeping it vague only made things worse.

So he laid out his thoughts plainly, “I want that championship. If OT can’t give it to me, I’ll leave.”

It was true—Lin Jiang was on a different level from the rest of them.

He hadn’t come here to play savior. The window of a pro player’s prime is short. He couldn’t gamble those precious years on a faint hope.

The gap between reality and their ideals weighed heavily on everyone.

They were reluctant to let Lin Jiang go, but they couldn’t bring themselves to ask him to stay.

Sure, they all liked Lin Jiang—but who really cared about what he wanted?

Lin Jiang didn’t explain further. He set down his things and left, giving them time to process it.

The moment he was gone, the tension in the room snapped.

A’Deng’s composure cracked. “I-I don’t think I’m good enough. Maybe we should let Xiao Yu try instead?”

Zheng Yu frantically waved his hands. “I’m even worse! Even when the captain coaches me, I can’t understand it…”

Sighs filled the air, heavy and wordless.

Song Zhixu returned to his seat and resumed the unfinished game. Even after losing his advantage, he boldly initiated a team fight and turned things around.

Although he always warned Shen Ju not to harbor unrealistic hopes, in truth, he himself was indulging in wishful thinking.

If hard work alone could make Lin Jiang stay, he’d outwork everyone here.

After all, effort was the cheapest thing he could afford.

Meanwhile, Shen Ju didn’t join the discussion. He switched accounts and started a new game.

Under Zhou Wen’s shocked gaze, he picked an extremely hand-straining champion, Kalista.

“Shen Ju, are you serious? You still have a hand injury, and you’re choosing such a high-difficulty champion?”

Even so, Shen Ju still felt it wasn’t enough.

If Lin Jiang truly left OT in the future because of results, he would surely regret not having worked harder now.

Afterwards, Lin Jiang gave Shen Ju the cold shoulder for two days, but Shen Ju still refused to apologize, sticking stubbornly to his own way.

When Song Zhixu was changing clothes at night, he joked with him, “Why don’t you just give in first? How can you stand not talking to the captain for two days? If it were me, I would’ve given up a long time ago.”

Shen Ju turned over, facing the wall, refusing to talk.

He wasn’t Song Zhixu.

There was nothing he couldn’t endure.

The excessive training load continued, and he picked Kalista multiple times in training matches. Fang Luxing tried to stop him, “It’s just a training match. No need to take it so seriously, right?”

Shen Ju clicked and locked in the champion.

His opponents were not only the three top teams from the LPL but also the world’s elite teams.

Only by tempering himself against strong teams could he deliver a perfect strike to their enemies in the near future.

Shen Ju’s Kalista indeed achieved different results. Lin Jiang also gained advantages, and even Song Zhixu managed to hold his own.

But the jungler—

He got utterly crushed by the opponent.

After losing two dragons in a row, A’Deng was on the verge of tears from self-blame, “I’m sorry, I messed up again. Maybe we should let Xiao Yu try instead?”

Lin Jiang noticed that ever since he had that talk with them, everyone had been pushing themselves to improve, except A’Deng, whose performance was rapidly declining.

The results of the training matches were disastrous, and many teams realized OT’s condition was worse than during the regular season.

By the end, TG voluntarily withdrew from their training schedule, followed by YIG. Only SNG and a few lower-ranked teams remained, merely out of courtesy.

Being underestimated by your enemies was a very ominous sign.

Lin Jiang meticulously analyzed every match, dissecting every detail. He wasn’t very familiar with jungle tempo, but he could spot operational mistakes at a glance.

A’Deng’s operations weren’t bad. Sometimes he even pulled off impressive plays.

But after losing dragons to the enemy, it wasn’t just flashy plays that faltered—even basic mechanics started to break down.

His phone buzzed — it was Zeng Yuan replying:

[Zeng Yuan: It’s hard to say without seeing the footage, but based on what you described, I think A’Deng is most likely struggling with a mental block.]

[Lin Jiang: What kind? He wasn’t like this when we lost games in the past.]

[Zeng Yuan: Actually, I noticed it a long time ago. He has this ‘unlucky buff’. Whenever it was triggered, his mentality takes a nosedive. I asked him about it once, and he said he encountered something ‘unclean’ as a kid that messed with his luck. He went on about all these superstitious things I couldn’t understand.]

Lin Jiang’s mood darkened.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, pausing at the Baron pit.

The moment A’Deng used Smite, the Baron suddenly leveled up, causing its HP to spike, preventing him from securing it.

The enemy jungler flashed in and stole it effortlessly.

He wasn’t sure if he remembered correctly, but it seemed like all three dragon steals in that match happened the same way.

His heartbeat quickened. He hesitated before replying.

[Lin Jiang: Do you think it’s real or just in his head?]

Zeng Yuan sent him a voice message directly.

“I think it’s definitely superstition. I’ve jungled for ages, I know what’s what. It’s just a probability thing. The Baron levels up every minute, and A’Deng just got too anxious and didn’t time his Smite right. Sure, he’s unlucky, but mostly he hasn’t played enough games. The more he plays, the more the odds even out.”

Lin Jiang let out a long sigh of relief.

He had actually been worried there was some kind of supernatural force controlling the game—what a scare.

[Lin Jiang: So it’s a mentality issue?]

[Zeng Yuan: I think so. Whenever he has bad luck, he starts thinking in that direction, and his mentality naturally collapses. Plus, you told them about your plans to leave, so the pressure on him must be even greater.]

So, was this why he kept insisting on letting Zheng Yu play?

Afraid that bad luck would affect the match, afraid that Lin Jiang would leave because of it—tons of pressure piled up on him, slowly crushing him.

Lin Jiang had considered switching players, but he realized that the unlucky A’Deng was still better than the substitute Zheng Yu.

After thinking it all through, Lin Jiang sighed, “A’Deng never tells me these things.”

“You said he’s a bit intimidated by you. You play so well, he always feels like he’s holding you back. He’d be on his knees if he could, so there’s no way he’d dare open up to you.”

Lin Jiang asked, “Then why does he talk to you about it?”

Zeng Yuan smiled softly, “Because I told him I used to be like him, and you helped me step out of it. So he immediately opened up to me. Honestly, Lin Jiang, I think he cares about you a lot. Even if he doesn’t show it to you directly, just look at the messages he sends me—almost every sentence is about you.”

After a while, Zeng Yuan sent Lin Jiang screenshots of their chat, broken up into bits.

[A’Deng: Brother Zeng Yuan, I think my Lee Sin pissed off the captain today QAQ…]

[Zeng Yuan: Don’t worry, Lin Jiang isn’t the petty type.]

[A’Deng: Really, he didn’t scold me! He must be the best captain in the world!]

…

[A’Deng: Hey, the captain was right to have me pick Nocturne!]

[Zeng Yuan: Got it.]

[A’Deng: Our captain’s foresight is just next-level!]

[Zeng Yuan: Got it, got it.]

[A’Deng: Nocturne and Twisted Fate are such a perfect combo! (Hands on hips) (Feeling proud)]

[Zeng Yuan: My ears are calloused from hearing this.]

…

[A’Deng: Daily appreciation—our team’s captain is so patient!]

[Zeng Yuan: Hah, that’s because you haven’t seen him lose his temper. Remember that time during the finals when our coordination was off? He nearly smashed the table afterward.]

[A’Deng: You’re slandering him! The captain isn’t like that at all.]

[Zeng Yuan: ???]

…

[A’Deng: Played duo queue with the captain all day today.]

[A’Deng: I’ll say it loudly, I’m the one who’s duo-queued with the captain the longest in the team!]

[Zeng Yuan: ? You’re the jungler, who else is he supposed to queue with?]

…

[A’Deng: Late-night emo… How can there be a jungler as bad as me? The captain must be so frustrated.]

[Zeng Yuan: He isn’t. Just keep practicing hard.]

[A’Deng: I don’t think I can do it. I’m so useless, the worst jungler in the world…]

(Zeng Yuan spent half an hour comforting him with a long message, to no avail.)

[A’Deng: Yay! The captain just praised me for playing well! I’m back in the game!]

[Zeng Yuan: ?]

…

[A’Deng: Brother Zeng Yuan…]

[Zeng Yuan: What is it?]

[A’Deng: Do you think the captain will replace me?]

[Zeng Yuan: No, no, no, I’ve said it eight hundred times. If he wanted to replace you, he wouldn’t have asked me to coach you.]

[A’Deng: Exactly! No matter how many times I hear it, it still makes my heart race!]

[Zeng Yuan: ………… (Just spare me already.)]

Lin Jiang scrolled through those screenshots and couldn’t help but laugh out loud. It was like A’Deng had two personalities.

On the surface, he was a lively, cheerful extrovert who’s quick to admit and apologize for his mistakes.

But deep down, he was an introvert with wild mood swings who got emo late at night.

The contrast couldn’t be more extreme.

Putting down his phone, Lin Jiang turned his attention back to the game on his computer, a new idea forming in his mind.

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