Chapter 21 – Finals
People’s joys and sorrows don’t always connect. While Chen Bai checked his messages on his phone, his chat was bursting with laughter.
[Hahahahaha, Er Bai, you’re panicking!]
[Hahaha, is this the first time Er Bai has ever missed a shot?]
[Fruit Livestream, good job!]
[“What photos,” Er Bai, pay more attention, will you!]
[You two really don’t treat us like outsiders, huh, haha!]
The chat was filled with laughter, but Chen Bai didn’t notice. He did, however, see the message notification on his phone that he had missed.
Sure enough, there was something about the photos, with a note at the end kindly asking for cooperation.
Squinting, Chen Bai held his phone further away and turned it off, setting it aside before calmly returning to his keyboard. With a composed and sincere tone, he said, “I would love to go, but unfortunately…”
Faced with the chat, his tone became even more sincere, “My leg gave out, just now.”
Chen Bai had his own unique logic.
The request for cooperation, in his mind, meant it wasn’t mandatory. He figured that he shouldn’t make it too obvious that he wasn’t going to comply, so he came up with a very solid excuse.
“…”
The fans in the stream couldn’t figure out how his leg could have given out when, just moments ago, he had gotten up to grab a cup of black coffee.
[Er Bai, you’ll say anything to avoid going to that photoshoot (eye emoji)]
[(pointing fingers emoji)]
[Hahahaha, even Qingzhou doesn’t know what to say]
[Er Bai, wow, live streaming with an injured leg, your determination is truly inspiring (sarcastic)]
Qingzhou really didn’t know how to respond to such an obviously false statement. He shot down a sneaky opponent and finally managed to say, “Really?”
He added, “Wishing you a speedy recovery.”
Perfectly playing along, showing excellent teamwork.
Having officially excused himself due to his “injury,” Chen Bai returned to the game after replying to the message.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to show his face—he had simply learned from his previous streaming experiences that avoiding it was more convenient and caused fewer awkward situations.
Sure enough, the “injured” Chen Bai did not attend the photoshoot. Before the top 4 match, the Fruit Livestream app’s opening screen featured the promotional poster for the top 4.
All the people on the poster looked stylish and cool. Qingzhou, who was handsome and the top streamer on the platform, naturally took the center spot, looking extremely eye-catching.
Next to this cool and stylish guy was a circular avatar—an image of the God of Wealth holding a golden ingot, which, in its own way, stood out even more.
Now everyone knew about Chen Bai’s obsession with making money and the whole leg injury excuse.
*
Chen Bai streamed until 2 AM, and the next morning, when he tried to get up… he didn’t. He lay back in bed, squinting as he fumbled around until he found his phone on the nightstand.
Half-opening his eyes, he instinctively opened his streaming app to check the match time for the day.
And there it was—his own avatar on the opening screen.
“…”
His mind cleared up a little.
The platform had found a way to make sure he showed up on the promotional poster, even if it was just his God of Wealth avatar.
Next to the God of Wealth was a face that looked somewhat familiar, though his vision was still blurry, and the screen changed after five seconds, so he didn’t see it clearly.
The person on the poster didn’t matter. Chen Bai rolled over, switched hands with his phone, tapped it twice, and checked the match time.
The time had been adjusted—it was now half an hour earlier than usual.
A tricky time, too. Eating dinner beforehand would be too early, and afterward, he’d be late for his stream.
The pink-haired guy dropped his phone on the bed again.
Faced with the choice of getting up to go downstairs for breakfast or turning on his computer, he chose to close his eyes.
Well, he tried to. The weather was nice today, and since he hadn’t drawn the curtains, sunlight streamed into the room, making it too bright.
He couldn’t fall back asleep. In the quiet, there were two knocks at the door.
The pink-haired guy got up, couldn’t find his slippers, and so padded barefoot to the door, his hair a mess as he opened it.
It was his neighbor, hat pulled low, looking as handsome as ever, almost intimidatingly so.
Still half-asleep with low blood pressure, Chen Bai leaned against the doorframe, asking, “Heading out?”
Xu Sinian nodded, then asked, “Are you gaming with friends again this afternoon?”
Chen Bai took a moment to process, then nodded. Explaining the tournament was too much trouble, so he’d just been telling his neighbor that he was playing games with friends instead of joining him for meals the past few days.
Xu Sinian looked down and said, “I’m going out for some location shoots. I won’t be home for a few days.”
The pink-haired guy’s half-open eyes finally fully opened. “Leaving already?”
“Yeah.”
Xu Sinian took something out of his pocket, and Chen Bai reached out to take it. It wasn’t until he felt the cool touch that he realized it was a key.
It was the key to his neighbor’s place. Chen Bai sometimes used his kitchen, so he recognized it.
Xu Sinian said, “Here, you can use the oven or anything else yourself.”
The house had been vacant for a long time, with nothing of value inside except for the kitchen appliances. It was better for someone to use them than let them gather dust.
Chen Bai held the key and agreed, “Alright.”
He watched his neighbor leave, leaning against the doorframe and waving. “Remember to send messages.”
The front door closed, and Xu Sinian left for the film set.
Busy with preparations, the crew was in a frenzy, even more chaotic than usual, with people rushing about and equipment being moved everywhere.
The director, carrying a pile of scripts and shooting plans, popped out of the crowd. Seeing Xu Sinian, he paused for a moment and said, “You’re here?”
A rather pointless question.
Xu Sinian gave a small nod.
The director chuckled, “I thought you were leaving this afternoon.”
The location shoot was going to take several days, with two departure times—one in the morning, one in the afternoon, after dinner.
Xu Sinian often wasn’t around the set during dinner, usually saying he was eating with someone. The director assumed it would be the same this time and thought they could leave together in the afternoon.
Xu Sinian didn’t say much, just slightly lifted the brim of his hat and gave a casual response.
*
Having already gotten out of bed and made it to the door, Chen Bai figured he might as well throw on a jacket and head downstairs to grab breakfast, along with something he could save for dinner. When he got back, he munched on a steamed bun as he turned on his computer.
There was no stream scheduled for the morning, so he and Qingzhou played a few warm-up games to get in the groove.
They had played a bit aggressively in their last games, so they were likely to be targeted during the top 4 match.
They knew they’d be targeted, but there wasn’t much they could do about it. After their morning practice, Chen Bai even took a couple of locksmithing jobs during the break and made an extra 100 yuan.
By the time the afternoon match was about to begin, he had just finished changing someone’s lock and made it back.
As expected, Baizhou Squad was heavily targeted. They were relentlessly pursued early on, missing out on key opportunities for growth. Later on, they had to fight with barebones equipment in a chaotic battle. It was an incredibly tough game, but the two of them managed to turn things around in the late game and narrowly clinched victory.
With this win, the team advanced directly to the finals, securing their spot without having to compete any further.
They had won, but the fans still felt uneasy.
The match had been difficult, and their playstyle had visibly become more conservative as the game went on. Most notably, Chen Er Bai, who was usually a chatterbox, remained silent throughout.
When a talkative person stops talking, you know things aren’t looking good.
Especially since that evening, Chen Er Bai, who loved money, hadn’t even streamed.
Other teams still had to go through their qualifiers, and the finals were set for three days later. Except for the day of the top 4 match, Chen Bai streamed as usual but avoided any mention of the tournament during his broadcasts.
The finals consisted of six games, running from morning to evening, testing both endurance and physical stamina.
It was a points-based system, with the scores from previous matches carrying over. Baizhou Squad was in first place, but the second-place team was close behind.
In the first few rounds of the finals, they continued their conservative playstyle, steadily increasing their points. Meanwhile, the second-place team took a risk and quickly closed the gap.
From morning to evening, by the time they reached the final game, Baizhou Squad and the second-place team were only two points apart, with the third-place team just barely joining the top ranks.
Three teams—whoever won this match would take the championship.
The final game coincided with dinnertime, and as it started, the audience, bowls in hand, found themselves unable to take a single bite.
With the points so close, Baizhou Squad wasn’t being targeted by other teams, but they still played it safe, carefully looting gear and avoiding direct confrontations.
Their conservative strategy kept them alive, but it also meant they missed out on kill points. In contrast, the second-place team was aggressively hunting kills, making the situation feel dangerously close.
[Oh no, second and third teams got more kills. The prize money is slipping away.]
[What can they do? Er Bai and Qingzhou probably got spooked by all the targeting earlier.]
[ I’m so nervous I can’t even eat my food.]
[Er Bai, say something, Er Bai! If you stay quiet, we’re seriously freaking out here!]
[I’ve never been so desperate to hear Er Bai speak (cigarette emoji)]
The stream chat was anxious, but the players remained silent. After surviving the next shrinking circle, the duo started looting houses again in the safe zone.
The building had two floors, and it hadn’t been looted yet. Chen Bai scanned the area, handed a new weapon to his teammate, and kept a broken sniper for himself, saying, “I’ll check upstairs. You stand guard and keep an eye out for anyone nearby.”
Qingzhou headed downstairs, hugging the wall as he left the house.
From his perspective, everything seemed calm—nothing out of the ordinary. There were no footsteps in his headphones either.
But in the main live stream, viewers could clearly see that, not too far away, a member of the second team was silently sneaking up behind them, using cover along the way.
The second team had played aggressively earlier, with high rewards but also high risks. Now, only one player was left. According to the current points, if this player could get one more kill and then hide out for the rest of the game, they would secure first place.
And that kill was looking to be Qingzhou, who seemed completely unaware.
In the woods, a black figure quietly set up their gun.
[Qingzhou, turn around!]
[ I can’t breathe!]
[Wait, something about this seems familiar…]
[I can’t watch this…]
“Bang—”
“Bang—”
In the dead silence, two gunshots rang out.
Both shots came from the second-floor window of the building.
The first shot took down the player in the woods, and the second was a finishing shot to prevent them from escaping.
A kill notification popped up on the screen. The figure standing at the second-floor window, peeking through a narrow angle, put away his broken sniper and smiled. “Turns out the bait game still works.”
