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I.
Zhang Xinjie stares at Han Wenqing, who returns his gaze steadily. Neither of them smile, but they’ve learnt enough about each other through this season—both know that they’re just as happy about this win as the others. Zhang Xinjie smiles politely at the press, and he declines further comments beyond the necessary lines—yes, he was very happy about winning championships. He would be working even harder in following seasons to defend their championship. No, he couldn’t have expected this, it’s an honour.
Han Wenqing speaks even less than him, but it’s expected by then. Reporters hoping for a particularly interesting article would be disappointed, but Tyranny’s first championship should be news enough. As the press conference draws to a close, they stand and leave. The team lingers, some answering some questions, or simply being playful.
Backstage, both of them are surprised when Han Wenqing leans closer to Zhang Xinjie, enveloping him in a hug. It’s quick and a little awkward and Han Wenqing pulls away just as quickly as their teammates turn past the corner, still chattering about their victory. Han Wenqing lets their excitement slide today. It’s not every day that they win a championship, after all. It’s something he’s dedicated years of his life into.
“Captain...” Zhang Xinjie trails off.
He doesn’t continue, while Han Wenqing has already started to leave. Falling into the same pace a step behind Han Wenqing, neither of them sees the other smile to themselves.
II.
If they had pushed just a bit harder, played a bit better, maybe the result would have been different. If they had known things would go this way, then...
That that kind of thinking was worthless, of course. Some things were set in stone, some things you couldn’t change. No matter what you said, there was no medicine for regret. If they had known? That wasn’t possible. At least, Zhang Xinjie thought so.
So in the end, victory and defeat was set in stone.
Zhang Xinjie watches Han Wenqing train at his computer. His hands moved in a steady, familiar rhythm, one that had been at his side throughout his career. Everything has changed—the alliance, the players, even Glory. Tyranny has lost and won, but Han Wenqing remains a steady constant. Even after so many years, this person had never changed.
“Captain, it’s time for a break.”
Han Wenqing doesn’t respond, Zhang Xinjie waits. There’s no need for a second reminder. The Glory logo flashes on screen, ending the session.
He turns to leave, expecting Han Wenqing to follow, but he’s pulled back and finds himself on Han Wenqing’s lap.
“Captain?”
“Stay.”
“Okay.”
III.
“I will not be returning as Captain next season.” Han Wenqing announced calmly, his expression perfectly steady. “Following my retirement, Xinjie will succeed me as Tyranny’s captain.”
Zhang Xinjie stared straight ahead, his expression carefully schooled. The news had finally hit him all of a sudden, and he dug his nails into his palm under the table. Sitting still was a nightmare.
“I’m sure Xinjie will lead Tyranny to greater heights. I hope he will have everyone’s support.” Han Wenqing finished, turning to give Zhang Xinjie a slight smile. A moment later, he leaned over, wrapping one arm around Zhang Xinjie in a quick half hug. “Good luck, Captain Zhang.”
The touch brought him out of his daze, and he returned the hug, giving Han Wenqing a grateful nod. It was his turn now.
“Captain Han has led the team since the beginning, and I will uphold Tyranny’s legacy. As before, we will continue to advance bravely.”
IV.
It didn’t happen particularly often, but Zhang Xinjie was no stranger to the occasional headache. His strict schedule usually helped to prevent it, but it still happened from time to time. They had become a little more troublesome after he had become captain, though. When his head started to hurt in the middle of a group practice after he had been feeling sluggish since morning, he was far from surprised. He had no time for this— after practice, he had two meetings, and he had planned to check in with the guild after that.
He furrowed his brow when his worsening headache caused him to miss a sacred fire. This wasn’t working. “My apologies. Let’s stop here for today.”
After the other team members had left (with a good amount of confusion), Zhang Xinjie headed back to his room, hoping a short break would do him good. When he enters, he finds Han Wenqing sitting at their computer playing Glory. He had joined the guild after retiring, and his passion for the game had yet to wane.
“Captain, you’re here.” Zhang Xinjie says softly, pressing two fingers to his temple as he sits down on the bed.
“Headache?”
“Mm. Needed a break.” He answered simply. “Don’t mind me.”
“Come here.” Han Wenqing logged off, coming over to sit beside Zhang Xinjie.
Zhang Xinjie leaned over quietly, resting his head on Han Wenqing’s shoulder. Sighing, he closed his eyes, enjoying the closeness, even if his head was pounding like crazy.
Han Wenqing held onto Zhang Xinjie, shifting him into a better position. “Is this comfortable?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Rest here for a bit.”
V.
When Zhang Xinjie wakes, it’s to Han Wenqing’s strong arms wrapped around him. He remembers how lucky he is to wake up next to him each morning. There is a special warmth in starting each day in the arms of the person he loves. Zhang Xinjie sighs contently, threading his finger’s through Han Wenqing’s.
“Good morning, Captain.”
“Mm.” Han Wenqing’s hold on Zhang Xinjie tightened slightly. “How much time do we have?”
“Seven minutes.” Zhang Xinjie glanced at the clock before answering, even though he doesn’t actually need to check. They both knew he’d accounted for their slow mornings together in his schedule. “We have time.”
Han Wenqing remained silent, sleepily burying his face in Zhang Xinjie’s neck. Zhang Xinjie squeezed his hand in response. Between them, there was no need for words, only comfortable silence and each other’s presence.