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A Greater Whole: China’s National Glory Team
The training room echoes with precise mouse-clicks and a barrage of key-presses. Twelve people are laser-focused on their computers. Three more—including me—watch them clash.
Ye Xiu (retired, formerly Happy’s captain) and Zhang Xinjie (Tyranny) are sitting out of this intra-team practice match. When Ye Xiu announced this arrangement, he paused after saying “Because…” to let the rest of the team chorus “We don’t need a healer” in exasperation and amusement. Ye Xiu grinned and replied, “You will, but this makes training matches fairer.”
I watch Huang Shaotian’s Troubling Rain (Blade Master, Blue Rain) sneak up behind Xiao Shiqin’s Life Extinguisher (Mechanic, Thunderclap). Fang Rui’s Boundless Sea (Qi Master, Happy) spots Troubling Rain and throws him into the air before he can strike. When Life Extinguisher turns to join the fight, Zhou Zekai’s Cloud Piercer (Sharpshooter, Samsara) slams precise shots into the back of his head.
I can only follow the fast-paced action because Ye Xiu and Zhang Xinjie are observing from a third-person view. The Chinese National Glory Team is composed of All-Star players, most of whom are team captains in their own right, and their skill explodes across the screen.
After the close-fought match, the whole team eats lunch together, dissecting the action in a flurry of high-level discussion. I join them and listen; only once they finish eating can I begin interviewing individual players.
Sun Xiang (Samsara) approaches me while half the team is still eating. He’s one of two National Team members who—although a former captain (Excellent Era, Seasons 8-9)—is currently neither captain nor vice-captain of his home team. When I ask Sun Xiang if he feels underqualified, he snorts and points out that Zhang Jiale (Tyranny; Captain of Hundred Blossom Seasons 6-7) is in the same position.
I reassure Sun Xiang I’ll ask Zhang Jiale too, and he nods before giving me a more in-depth answer. He’s confident of his skill, and his perspective on teamwork is informative: “The National Team is the fourth team I’ve played on. I have more experience integrating with new teams than anyone else here, hard-won as it was, and that helps a lot.” Sun Xiang smiles, then adds, “I’m very happy I can play with Shiqin-ge again; he’s proud of my growth.”
Sun Xiang and Xiao Shiqin last played together in Season 9, when Excellent Era was relegated to Challenger League. They have both spoken at length about how their Challenger League experiences allowed them to break through mental blocks and improve.
Xiao Shiqin is annotating Glory map print-outs in a conference room. When I greet him, Xiao Shiqin straightens up and stretches, then tells me he’s excited about the World Glory Competition. “We’ve seen team line-ups like this for All-Stars Weekend, but it feels different to play in a tournament together.” I hear this refrain from every member of the National Team during my interviews.
“I love working alongside Yu Wenzhou (Blue Rain), Wang Jiexi (Tiny Herb), Zhang Xinjie, and Ye Xiu,” Xiao Shiqin adds. “It reminds me of earlier seasons, when we’d meet up to talk tactics and meta whenever we crossed paths.”
Xiao Shiqin describes the way every member of the team—not just the Four Master Tacticians!—works to analyse the other countries’ teams. “We each observe from a different perspective,” he says. “Together, we can see a greater whole.”
I find Chu Yunxiu (Misty Rain) and Su Mucheng (Happy), the two female captains of the Glory Professional Alliance, chatting in a courtyard. I barely have time to introduce myself before Chu Yunxiu asks, “Do you want to know what it’s like to be a woman on the National Team?”
I laugh, and admit I do. Chu Yunxiu interviews herself, as familiar with the questions as I am with her answers. She says that the team acts as a family and the men respect her, Su Mucheng, and their skill. Chu Yunxiu finishes by slinging her arm over Su Mucheng’s shoulder and saying, “I’m glad the young women of China will be able to see us competing on a world stage. I hope they’re inspired to keep playing and improving.”
Su Mucheng adds, “The entire Glory community is going to grow and change because of the World Glory Competition; we just happen to have front-row seats.”
She doesn’t seem worried about her young team, despite all of Happy’s leadership being on the National Team. “Happy knows how to train themselves,” Su Mucheng promises. She doesn’t respond to any other questions about her championship-winning team, instead reminding me that “We can’t worry about China’s league right now; we need to focus on playing our best games on the world stage.”
Not all captains are taking as hands-off an approach to their home team as Su Mucheng. Li Xuan (Void) receives a call from his vice-captain Wu Yuce as our interview wraps up. “We check in every day,” he says, apologising for the interruption.
Before his phone rang, Li Xuan enthusiastically told me about all the possibilities the National Team brings. “We’re all learning from and with each other,” he says. “For instance, Mucheng and I talked about Ghostblades and Launchers over dinner yesterday, and I’m sure our discussion will inform both Yang Haoxuan (Void’s Launcher, Transparent) and Qiao Yifan (Happy’s Ghostblade, One Inch Ash)’s play next season—and, of course, our own collaboration on the National Team!”
Once he departs, phone pressed against his ear, I look for Blue Rain’s captain and vice-captain. They’re watching a match recording together, Huang Shaotian draped over Yu Wenzhou’s shoulders and chattering away while gesturing at the screen. Yu Wenzhou rewinds to take a closer look at the detail Huang Shaotian noticed, then adds to his notes. They pause the game when I greet them, turning to me with identical smiles.
Yu Wenzhou’s presence keeps Huang Shaotian’s monologues to a minimum when I ask about the World Competition. “It’ll be fun,” Huang Shaotian says, bouncing on his feet. When playing, Huang Shaotian’s body stills because all his energy is channeled into his hands. “The format’s a little different than we’re used to, but it’ll give us so many opportunities to look for new synergies, strategies, and sneak-attacks.”
“Studying other countries’ Glory leagues is difficult.” Yu Wenzhou gestures at the paused game, where two German teams are in the midst of battle. “Bai Shu (Void’s Knight, Tide; formerly of the British team Sprout) experienced this when he joined Void. It’s not just about the game format; there’s also a language barrier.”
When I admit I can’t read the German chatlogs, Yu Wenzhou laughs and shows me the translation app open on his phone. “It’s hard,” he says, “but the knowledge is worth it.”
I leave them to their studies and search for Wang Jiexi. I discover that he, Zhang Xinjie, and Zhang Jiale are still in the dining room, engrossed in creating and annotating potential team match lineups.
Wang Jiexi greets me warmly as I approach. He shows me their work, then tells me, “There’s much more to consider than just class composition. We need to account for the map, the shotcaller’s style, the players’ communication habits, and—of course—the opponents themselves.”
“We’ll need to test compositions out first,” Zhang Xinjie adds. “Otherwise we might miss an unexpectedly powerful combination.”
They invite me to sit down, and I listen to them converse. Just as Xiao Shiqin said earlier, the mix of perspectives is invaluable. Zhang Jiale’s experience, Zhang Xinjie’s tactical mind, and Wang Jiexi’s out-of-the-box ideas blend together into a greater whole.
I notice, too, how familiar Zhang Jiale and Zhang Xinjie have become in Tyranny: Zhang Jiale cracks jokes and Zhang Xinjie (who is sometimes called a robot for his seeming lack of emotion) smiles and fires back with puns so subtle I miss them until Wang Jiexi starts laughing too.
I ask them questions once they pause to get drinks (tea for Wang Jiexi and Zhang Xinjie, soda for Zhang Jiale and me). Wang Jiexi shakes his head when I mention his Magician style. “I sealed it because teamwork was more important.” It’s a familiar refrain; I’d asked because, as everyone says, the National Team is different. “Even here,” Wang Jiexi tells me, “it wouldn’t be safe in a team match. One-on-one fights, on the other hand…” He smiles. “With such a strong roster, Zhang Xinjie is the only one whose place in the team matches is fixed.”
“Healing is healing,” Zhang Xinjie says when asked about his role as the sole healer of the National Team. “I trust everyone here to know my range and calculate their safety accordingly. I’m not worried.”
I ask Zhang Jiale about being one of the few “normal” members of the National team. He shrugs and says, “It proves I’m the number one Spitfire.” A moment later, Zhang Jiale laughs. “Finally, a chance to be number one!”
Zhang Xinjie squeezes his shoulder. “We’ll bring this trophy home,” he promises, and Wang Jiexi nods in agreement. They’re all dedicated to winning this championship, after so many close matches and defeats in our home league these past years.
As they return to planning, I look for Tang Hao, the youngest captain on the team. He’s alone in a practice room, and I wait for Tang Hao to finish his training course before asking what playing with his former teammates (Zhang Jiale and Fang Rui) again is like. Tang Hao snorts and leans back in his chair. “We’re all China’s top players,” he says, with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “But neither of them are captains.”
Tang Hao tells me that playing on the National Team is a challenge he’s looking forward to surpassing. He wants to represent Wind Howl well and show everyone what China’s best Brawler looks like. I thank him for his time, let him continue training, and look for Fang Rui.
I find him playing cards with Zhou Zekai in a lounge. Fang Rui teases Zhou Zekai as he lays cards down, and Zhou Zekai responds with head tilts and quirks of his eyebrows that Fang Rui replies to as if they were sentences. When Zhou Zekai says, “My win,” and raises his empty hands in triumph, Fang Rui swears and slaps down his remaining three cards.
Then Fang Rui—alerted by Zhou Zekai’s glance—turns and waves me over. “Our year had a tournament,” he explains, reminding me they’re both Season 5 debuts. “This isn’t as good as the Golden Generation’s reunion, but it’s fun playing by our own rules again.”
Zhou Zekai nods and starts shuffling the deck back together. “Not like Glory.”
“It’s a good way to hang out without playing Glory all the time,” Fang Rui agrees. He grins at me. “Want to play a round?”
I lose miserably, even with Fang Rui explaining every rule three times over and Zhou Zekai smiling encouragement when I manage good plays. At the end, I ask them what they think of the National Team. Zhou Zekai says, “Good,” a typically clipped response.
Fang Rui smoothly continues Zhou Zekai’s thought. “We’re some of the best players in China,” he says, “and I like playing alongside everyone instead of competing against them.” Zhou Zekai nods agreement as he gathers the cards.
“Besides,” Fang Rui adds a little wistfully, “I’m glad for the chance to work with Captain Ye a little longer.”
When I find Ye Xiu, a man once impossible to interview, he only tells me this: “Glory’s a team game. You can’t win it alone. No matter how skilled our members are individually, teamwork is what will secure us the World Championship.” I shouldn’t be surprised by his confidence, but I still ask if he’s sure they’ll win.
“I know we can,” Ye Xiu says matter-of-factly, “and I believe we will.”
His confidence is infectious. I’m looking forward to seeing China’s National Team bring this trophy home.