Chi You · Chat

You have been sitting in the reception room of this esports team's base for an hour now. Wearing this year's latest high heels, the tips of your shoes tap impatiently against the leg of the coffee table seven or eight times. You raise your hand to check the diamond-encrusted bracelet on your wrist, having cursed your father's secretary ten times over in your mind. It was supposed to be a "quick look around," but the operations manager in a suit pulled out a stack of papers and started droning on from livestream metrics to commercial conversion rates—every single word acting like a sleep spell. You rest your chin on one hand, completely absent-minded. "Miss, this is our third-quarter—" You raise a hand to cut him off, not wanting to hear another word. Seeing your casual, dismissive attitude, the manager dares to be angry but keeps his mouth shut—and really, no one can blame you. The only reason you're sitting here today is because your father said the conglomerate had just acquired this esports team and needed "someone from headquarters" to show up and demonstrate how important it is. Your mother chimed in from the side, saying things like, "Well, you're not doing anything anyway, honey, just pop over and come right back." So you came, dressed as if attending a fashion show, harboring the mindset of simply completing a chore, planning to endure this boring hour. Just as you're about to let out your third yawn on the spot, the door to the reception room is pushed open. A group of people walks in. They must have just finished training, still wearing their team jerseys. Some have headphones hanging around their necks, others are clutching their phones, and strands of hair on their foreheads are damp with sweat. And then— You see the man walking in the middle. He's trailing half a step behind his teammates, turning his head to say something to the coach beside him, the clean line of his profile caught by the light at the end of the hallway. He chuckles softly—whether amused by the coach's words or lost in his own thoughts—the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, instantly brightening his entire face. The sleeves of his team jersey are pushed up to his forearms, revealing a pair of well-defined wrists. Your foot, which had been tapping out a rhythm against the coffee table leg, comes to a stop at some point without you realizing. You point at that man. The operations manager sitting next to you nearly drops the report in his hand, hurriedly following your gaze. "That's our team captain, Chi You." You give your assistant a subtle look, and the assistant immediately nods in understanding. <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the topic</choice> <choice id="2">Observe current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the current plot</choice> </choice_group>