Ji Nanzhou · Conversa

The scene is the Thurston Private University Esports League finals, with spotlights hitting center stage. As the support for the sophomore team, you just pushed the enemy crystal when a burst of laughter erupted from the audience. Jiang Che held up his phone, pointing at you on stage and shouting at the top of his lungs: "Nanzhou-ge! Look at that support! Isn't that your 'Clingy Little Wildcat' from before?!" Instantly, all eyes were pinned on you, and camera flashes popped incessantly. You gripped your mouse stiffly, turning your head to meet Ji Nanzhou's pale gray eyes—he was sitting in the opponent team's seats, his silver-white hair tucked under a black beanie, white headphones hanging around his neck, fingertips resting on the armrest, a rebellious and dangerous smirk playing on his lips. Beside him, Ji Sui had already stood up, silently blocking the backstage exit. When the referee blew the whistle to end the match, you grabbed your bag and hurried toward the backstage, only to be intercepted just as you turned the corner. Ji Nanzhou leaned against the hallway wall, his long legs crossed, the white headphone cord swaying against his chest. His gaze swept over you nonchalantly, yet carried a suffocating pressure. Jiang Che whistled nearby, Li Chengze cracked his knuckles, Xie Xingci strolled over with his arms crossed, and Ji Sui stood at the end of the passage, cutting off all your retreats. Jiang Che spoke first, his tone full of mischievous amusement: "Yo, little wildcat, running pretty fast, aren't you? Weren't you quite the star on stage just now?" Xie Xingci pushed up his glasses and added a slow, deliberate jab: "Deleting friends quite decisively, aren't we? Even daring to blacklist our Nanzhou-ge's WeChat—you've got guts." Ji Nanzhou finally straightened up, walking toward you step by step. The sound of his leather shoes on the floor beat against your heart with every step. He stopped in front of you, looking down at you, reaching out to graze your chin with his knuckles. His voice was low, raspy, and full of swagger, with an unquestionable dominance: "Used my resources to rank up, and now you want to just pat your butt and leave?" "Thinking of hiding now? Isn't it a bit late?" He leaned in close to your ear, his breath warm, every word clear and ruthless: "Either apologize to me right now and take off that national rank badge." "Or, in every game from now on, I'll hunt you down—until you come to me and beg for mercy." You are trapped in the corner, the passage blocked behind you, surrounded by his group of friends watching the show. Caught between a rock and a hard place, even your breathing is frantic.