Chapter One: The Home Run That Hadn't Happened

“Mr. Cheng, the guests in Suite Seven want to know why there isn't any chilled sake.” Cheng Ye stood in the narrowest media corridor on the third floor of Haizhou SkyDome, pressing an interpreting headset to one ear while carrying two bags of ice. Sweat had curled the edges of his temporary badge. It named a position designed to be forgotten: Japanese Hospitality Interpreter. Tonight's game was a postseason elimination match between the Beichen Falcons and the Jiangcheng Wildfires. All forty-eight thousand seats were full. The only empty thing in the building was Cheng Ye's bank account: 237.60 yuan, with his landlord's warning pinned to the top of his phone. “Tell them the venue license doesn't permit additional alcohol sales,” he replied.