There was no helping it—scrims started at 2:00 PM. Luo Sheng arrived in the training room before 1:30 to get everything ready.
The lineup followed his originally planned starters.
Top: Zoom
Jungle: Tian
Mid: Knight
Bot lane: JackeyLove and Mark
This was the roster Luo Sheng had placed high hopes on.
If their synergy clicked, winning a domestic title would be easy—and there might even be a shot at the World Championship.
Their scrim opponent today was JD Gaming, a team currently near the top of the standings.
The two teams had been scrimming each other frequently lately.
First, there was the top‑lane swap, which had improved relations between the organizations.
Second, JDG simply wanted to test TES's current strength. After all, the two teams would be facing each other soon in official matches.
Preparing in advance was necessary.
Sometimes, a single roster change could spark real chemistry and create the perfect five‑man lineup.
They hadn't even waited until 2:00 PM before opening the lobby.
After giving the players some final instructions, Luo Sheng walked over to Lin Fan.
Then he froze.
At a time like this, Lin Fan should have already logged into his account.
Instead, he was playing **QQ Speed**.
Had the criticism gone too far?
Had Lin Fan's mentality collapsed completely—was he openly giving up?
Young players these days really couldn't handle pressure.
Luo Sheng felt he needed to comfort him.
"Lin Fan, I still think highly of you. You play support with real intuition. I rewatched your Heimerdinger game from yesterday—it was genuinely impressive. The lane pressure was excellent. I really believe in you.
"And today, you'll have a chance to play."
In the club, scrims were an unspoken rule.
Matchday rosters were selected based on scrim performance.
Playing scrims didn't guarantee stage time—but skipping scrims guaranteed you'd never play.
Luo Sheng felt he'd already laid the bait thick enough. Most players would be fired up by the chance to play.
But Lin Fan kept racing in QQ Speed, not even turning his head.
He replied with a perfunctory "Mm."
Luo Sheng's heart sank.
He wasn't angry—he was genuinely worried.
A pro player who felt nothing about playing on stage, who couldn't even be distracted from another game… that meant he had already given up.
Supports were valuable. Even now, a transfer could fetch at least 500,000 yuan.
But a player who didn't want to compete anymore? No one would pay for that.
Earlier, Luo Sheng had hoped Lin Fan would retain value—sell him during the transfer window and recover some money.
Now it looked like he was going to rot on their hands.
That meant TES absolutely had to start winning.
If they didn't—old and new debts would be settled together, and Lin Fan would be gone.
Just like Luo Sheng's own contract before—clubs showed no mercy.
Capital only cared about profit and loss.
When someone started talking to you about feelings, you needed to watch out for the trap.
Most esports players entered the scene before their minds had fully matured.
Sweet words led many into slave contracts they couldn't escape.
When they wanted to leave later, they couldn't transfer—only retire.
That's why players now hired lawyers before signing contracts.
One of the best examples was Karsa—one of the few who managed a successful transfer.
"This week's match is important… forget it. We'll let him play once the team stabilizes."
Luo Sheng checked the time, patted Lin Fan on the shoulder, and returned to the team to start scrims.
He still had high hopes.
Reality crushed them.
Game one against JDG ended in surrender at fifteen minutes.
Down 5,000 gold.
It was technically playable—but only if the opponent made mistakes.
But this was scrims.
Scrims weren't about winning—they were about finding problems.
The replay would be saved and reviewed tomorrow.
The second game started quickly.
Same lineup.
The substitute top laners watched from behind, studying Zoom's decisions and imagining how they'd play differently.
Lin Fan continued grinding his task, not even looking up.
A strange sight in the TES training room.
JackeyLove glanced over during downtime and sighed.
Betting your career out of spite wasn't worth it.
He'd thought two nights would be enough to cool off.
If Lin Fan stayed with the club, maybe he could talk to him later.
Truth was, Lin Fan wasn't bad.
Above average, at least.
Game two…
Collapsed again—just like game one.
The difference was where it broke.
Game one fell apart mid.
Game two collapsed bot.
Eighteen minutes.
Another surrender.
"Today doesn't feel great," someone muttered.
"JDG's confidence is high. They're on a three‑game win streak. I heard other teams lose more than they win against them in scrims."
"These games could've been dragged out. Kai'Sa had scaling potential," JackeyLove said.
"These scrims were meant to test early game… and the early game was awful," Luo Sheng said, trailing off.
"Mark, next game Lin Fan goes in."
"Okay."
Mark gave up his seat.
Not just support—top lane also changed.
Zoom out. Wayward in.
"No need. I'll play from this seat," Lin Fan said.
"That works. Stay there."
JackeyLove reopened the lobby and invited Lin Fan.
"Fan‑ge, this one's on you."
"…"
Unless he could play Heimerdinger, how was he supposed to do anything?
There was no way the coach would let him pick Heimer in scrims.
And if he played anything else bot lane?
It'd just be free kills.