Chapter 21 Personality Disorder

Losing two rounds to Team 18, they nearly slammed their heads into walls. With the lead, we ignored Attacker/Defender roles, charging Mid to Side Path to A. Two enemies spotted us too late—dead.

Our group planted the bomb at A and guarded it. Two enemies rushed from B; Chuanchuan missed shots, Xiaohua jumped to help but got sniped by a Second Floor guy under the bridge. Chuanchuan fell to a B Door sniper—two down. Little J told me to guard the bomb while he solo-rushed, only to die outnumbered.

I crouched between A-site boxes, a prime spot covering A Main, under-bridge, and Side Path. Lord Wu lurked in A Pit, cautious now. Hearing under-bridge footsteps, Lord Wu fired twice, retreating to A Pit—buying time. The enemy pushed to A Platform, ignoring me—I scored a headshot. A Side Path sniper got me next; Little J and I typed: "Bomb!"

Lord Wu charged A-site, killing the defuser just as the bomb exploded—he died in the blast. Game over—we had the upper hand.

As Defenders, we split: two to A, two to B, one sniper at Mid. Defending suited us—we excelled at camping. I hid in A Pit, ready to flash and rush; Little J took a three-way overlook; Xiaohua camped behind B-site high boxes; Lord Wu stayed behind B Cave wall.

Hearing A-site grenades and mixed footsteps, I prepped a flashbang, rushed out, gunned down one, then ran for A, radioing "enemy spotted"—dead before arrival. "Two at A," I typed. Little J acknowledged. Xiaohua ambushed their sniper god; Lord Wu griped about Xiaohua stealing his 90-damage kill.

"Xiaohua has a 'can't-get-enough-freebies personality disorder,'" I deadpanned.Them: "..."

Little J listened for footsteps, tossed a flashbang, and dropped one enemy. Chuanchuan nabbed another in the chaos. A Second Floor guy rushed Mid, gunning down Chuanchuan. Lord Wu, Xiaohua, and Little J charged Mid, knifing the reloading enemy—humiliating.

They protested: "This isn't fair!" The Student Union shrugged: "No rule against camping.""Even WCG allows camping," Lord Wu snapped.I chimed in, but they thought I was mocking them, demanding punishment."Camp if you can!" Little J retorted. They stormed off, yelling: "We wanted a fair match, but Epoch Café didn't deliver!"

We were confused—blaming the café? Their loss was bad luck. Like wanting a meal but missing utensils, they gave up. We sympathized... kinda.

We won the prelims, though notoriously. That night, we feasted, then waited at Epoch for semi-final news. The Union said time TBD, so Little J left his number, and we headed back.

Charging my phone, I found five messages from "Little Cabbage": good luck and match updates. Touched, I called—busy. She called back immediately:"How'd the match go?""Good, but when I called—""I saw your missed call and called right away. You were busy too!"I almost teared up...

How can I thank you?When I came to you,I only wanted a wisp of spring breeze,But you gave me an entire spring.How can I thank you?When I came to you,I only wanted a spray of waves,But you gave me an entire ocean.How can I thank you...

I wanted to recite this poem to pour out my feelings. On the phone, words failed me. No one but my mom had ever cared for me like this—how couldn't I be moved?

We chatted briefly before hanging up. Emotions swirled inside. Another call came, from an unknown number.

"Hello? Who's this?" I asked politely."F*ck! I'm your dad." A rough voice barked. Who the hell had I p*ss*d off? This sounded like someone our age. Was it Team 18 seeking revenge?

"Team 18?" I tried, preferring peace."Team 18 my *ss! It's Dafeng!" he roared."Jesus, you scared the sh*t out of me!" Dafeng, my high school buddy—we sat together, shot the sh*t, and he loved photography (weird for his tough guy act, but whatever). We'd lost touch after graduation.

"Who'd you piss off now? You sound spooked," Dafeng asked."Just beat a team in Crossfire, and they threatened us," I downplayed our "creative" tactics."D*mn, they're assholes." He cheered me on, unaware of our sketchy gameplay.

"Enough—where you at? Went MIA after graduation.""Making money in Beijing!""Big Wind lives up to his name, blowing to Beijing!" I joked."Failed college, so here I am—clogging up the capital." He worked for his family's wooden furniture business, rich but frugal: "Living off parents is nothing—being the one parents live off is real flex."

"Your family's money will end up with you anyway.""True. Took forever to find your number.""How'd you get it?""Guess!""Magic? No clue.""Got it from our math teacher. Bumped into him in town, mentioned you." No surprise—I still called that teacher, the only one I kept in touch with.

"Where do you go to school?""Some trash college doing nursing.""Nursing? Badass! Who'd let you nurse them?" My major always shocked people.

We reminisced about high school before he hung up, sending his QQ—this guy who hated the internet in high school now had a QQ.

The call triggered floods of memories... followed by sadness. Others made money, while I rotted in college, hunched over, spirit drained. Ugh, enough moping (145 words omitted to avoid plot tangles).

In the afternoon, I hit the classroom, missing someone. As usual, I sat by Yang. Dong Yulan wasn't there. "Where's your boss?"

"Miss her? Admit it!" Yang teased."No... Well, haven't argued with her in a while—kinda miss it.""Of course—everyone loves our awesome boss.""Yep, she's the best, greatest, most awesome," I humored her."Much better." Yang—so gullible. She turned to Old Demon: "Han'er, he's bullying me again."

Old Demon, texting, didn't look up: "The best way to deal with a rascal is to be a bigger rascal. Ignore him." Where'd she learn that? Yang pouted, ignoring me.

"Tell me where your boss is, and I'll buy you snacks.""Whatever. She's busy with the singer comp semi-finals."

Sh*t—I'd forgotten! My song Schemes was tricky. Xu Song's songs have clear rhythms, hard to go off-beat, but 僵硬 (stiff) delivery kills it. Perfect emotion makes it shine—high risk, all about timing and vibe.

I called Dong Yulan: "When's the semi-finals? Need to prep...""Tomorrow morning. Bad news—there might be 内幕 (fixes). Brace yourself..." Her tone showed frustration. College really was half a society—depressing.

"Got it. I'll try, at least not waste your help, right?""Ugh, bye—busy!" She hung up. My confidence wavered. Praying for a normal performance...