This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi!  (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･

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Chapter 87 – Happy New Year.

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After signing twenty property contracts—plus over thirty additional agreements—Sang Ye’s hand was completely numb.

Being rich was, quite frankly, exhausting.

Of course, the property transfer came with a hefty tax bill, but Tan Mo had already taken care of it. There was nothing left for Sang Ye to worry about.

Once the lawyer had left and lunch was over, Sang Ye finally started processing everything that had happened.

Money couldn’t measure love, but when there was enough money, it certainly emphasized the weight of that love.

Tan Mo had freely transferred billions in assets to him—not just as a show of trust but as a form of security. In a marriage, shared property and legal protections bind a couple together. But for same-s*x couples, without those formal safeguards, all that remained was mutual responsibility, commitment, and the belief in love itself.

By giving him so much, Tan Mo had made his intentions clear: he was in this for life.

Sang Ye sat at the table, took a sip of mineral water, and kept his eyes fixed on Tan Mo as he tidied up the dishes.

“I’ll give you my salary card from now on,” Sang Ye promised.

Tan Mo wiped his hands dry as he stepped out of the kitchen, lips curving slightly. “Up to you.”

Sang Ye beamed with enthusiasm. “And I’ll take care of you in retirement.”

“…” Tan Mo’s smile faded.

They had agreed the night before to go shopping today, so both put on masks and headed to the home decor mall.

Since they were decorating his and Tan Mo’s home, Sang Ye was completely absorbed in picking things out, even spending ages debating over something as simple as cups.

Unable to decide, he held up two different cups and asked Tan Mo, “Which one do you like?”

Tan Mo glanced at both, considered briefly, and said, “Either is fine.” Then he returned his attention to his phone.

Sang Ye frowned slightly, put both cups back on the shelf, and turned away.

It was only then that Tan Mo sensed something was off. He put his phone away and followed with the shopping cart. “My dad just called—he wanted to know where you’ll be spending the Lunar New Year.”

Sang Ye paused mid-step, stole a glance at Tan Mo, then quickly ran back to grab the matching couple’s cups and placed them in the cart. “I’ll be going home for the New Year.”

Tan Mo asked, “Would it be possible to invite your parents over?”

Lowering his eyes, Sang Ye hesitated before murmuring, “I’ll ask them later.”

But Tan Mo stopped in his tracks. “Ask them now.”

Sang Ye grumbled under his breath while reluctantly pulling out his phone, “Why are you in such a hurry…”

Tan Mo leaned in close, casually glancing at his screen. “You were home for seven days during National Day—I nearly lost my mind missing you.”

Sang Ye’s face heated up instantly. Thankfully, the mask concealed it. He quickly typed in their family group chat. “What if they don’t come?”

Tan Mo replied firmly, “Then I’ll go home with you. We need to meet the parents eventually.”

Not long after, Sang Huaixin and Fang Yuerong responded, agreeing to visit for the New Year but only after the second day of the festival.

Fang Yuerong, who doted on her only son, knew that Sang Ye would be staying in Shanghai long-term and relying on Tan Mo in the future. This visit would be the perfect opportunity to assess Tan Mo’s family environment and ensure her peace of mind.

In the group chat…

Fang Yuerong sighed: [This is the first time our puppy won’t be home for New Year’s Eve dinner.]

Sang Huaixin replied: [Kids grow up and eventually leave home—you’ll have to get used to it.]

Reading their messages, Sang Ye suddenly felt a sting in his eyes.

Tan Mo glanced at Sang Ye and reached out to ruffle his soft, milk-white hair.

Later, they passed by the bedding section.

Tan Mo turned in without hesitation. “What color bed sheets and blankets do you like? Pick a few sets.”

Sang Ye followed behind and reminded him, “No need, I saw there are already extras in the wardrobe.”

Last night, while checking the walk-in closet, he had noticed a drawer neatly stacked with clean, freshly washed three-piece bedding sets, all soft and fragrant.

Tan Mo tilted his head, picked up a box of bedsheets from the shelf, and said casually, “You can never have too many. You soak them faster than I can dry them.”

“…”

Sang Ye froze for two seconds before his face instantly flushed red. He grabbed a pillow from the nearby shelf and swung it at Tan Mo.

“Y-you’re talking nonsense! Why are you like this? We’re in public!”

Tan Mo let him hit him a couple of times, still examining the bedsheet materials. “I’m just complimenting you on how wet you get, baby.”

“!”

Sang Ye’s ears couldn’t take it anymore. Clutching the pillow, he turned to flee in the opposite direction.

But Tan Mo effortlessly reeled him back in, pressing down on his head as they picked out bed sheets together.

In this section, Tan Mo seemed far more patient than Sang Ye, spending an unusually long time browsing.

After an entire afternoon of shopping, they returned home with their arms full.

As they passed by the supermarket on the basement level, they decided to stop in and buy some groceries.

After getting into the car, Sang Ye sat in the passenger seat, took off his mask, and pulled out his phone to check the messages he had barely looked at all afternoon.

As soon as they merged onto the elevated highway, he noticed that the mentions on his Weibo had suddenly skyrocketed.

Feeling bored, Sang Ye clicked in to take a look.

@RapLevel10: [Ran into @wlg-Talk and @wlg-Song at the furniture store this afternoon. OMG, these two are so sweet in private—I’m dying from the cuteness. #CoupleShoppingDay#]

The fan who spotted them had taken quite a few pictures. Though both were wearing masks, their physiques and hair color made them easy to recognize.

The first picture showed the young man bending down, carefully selecting something from the middle shelf, while the man leaned against the shopping cart beside him, waiting.

The second picture captured the young man holding up two cups, his dark eyes sparkling as he gazed at the man, who had his back to the camera.

The third picture, taken in the bedding section under a hanging sign, showed the man caging the young one in with his arm as he reached for a packaged item from the shelf. Even from a distance, his slightly lowered, smiling peach blossom eyes were visible, while the young man looked flustered and embarrassed.

…

The final image showed the two standing by the car’s trunk, loading their purchases inside. In the nearby shopping cart, one could spot framed decorations, multiple boxed three-piece bedding sets, pillows, blankets, and a bag full of fruits and vegetables.

Fans were flooding the comments, rolling on the ground and screaming [kswl] (“knocked out by the sweetness” in internet slang).

[They’re already married, right?]

[Are they decorating their marital home?]

[Leidenfrost effect! These two bought way too many bedroom essentials.]

[Wuwuwu, I want to marry someone like Tan Shen—a perfect homebody husband.]

“…..”

You guys haven’t seen him when he’s being a menace…

Sang Ye said, “We made it to the trending topics for shopping at the furniture store. A lot of fans are saying they want to marry you.”

Tan Mo glanced at him quickly. “Is that what the fans are saying, or is that what you think?”

“?” Sang Ye, mindful that Tan Mo was driving, couldn’t shove his phone in his face, so he could only argue, “Why would I say that?”

“Well, true. You’ve already married me—no need to repeat it.”

“……”

“Happy?”

“…Over the moon.”

Tan Mo said, “Call me ‘husband.’”

Caught off guard, Sang Ye turned to look out the window, refusing to play along with Tan Mo’s mischief. “Why should I?”

Tan Mo glanced at the rearview mirror and switched lanes. “The only time you’re obedient is in bed.”

Sang Ye’s ears turned red. He made up his mind to ignore Tan Mo for the rest of the ride. But before long, he couldn’t help but argue back, “That’s because you force me!”

In bed, Tan Mo always found new ways to torment him into saying things he didn’t want to say—and every single time, this shameless man got his way.

“My bad.” Tan Mo seemed to recall his own lack of integrity and softened his tone. “Just asking—do I have any hope of hearing you call me ‘husband’ in this lifetime?”

Sang Ye, proud to the bone, replied, “Give up!”

Then, to be precise, he added, “And it doesn’t count if I’m forced.”

Tan Mo licked the corner of his lips, unable to hold back a laugh.

…

After returning home, Sang Ye immediately hung up the picture frames they had bought. He also arranged the cups and bowls in matching pairs. The small decorative items he’d picked out didn’t serve any real purpose, but once placed around the house, they infused the space with a distinct sense of its owner.

While laying down a carpet in the living room together, Sang Ye suddenly remembered, “I forgot to buy a bowl for Chunshan.”

Since Tan Chunshan would definitely be coming over for weekends in the future, they needed a new set for him. The dog bowl at the training base had to stay there.

“No rush,” Tan Mo said. “The holiday is next week—we’ll be staying at the courtyard house, so Chunshan won’t be coming over for now.”

The courtyard house referred to Tan Zhengfeng’s villa.

“Alright.” That eased some of Sang Ye’s guilt about forgetting.

Another new week began, and the two returned to the base just in time before the deadline.

As soon as they met, Xiao Pai asked, “White Hair, why did you and my brother buy so many bedding sets? Even if you change them daily, that’s way too much.”

“……” Sang Ye sat down and answered with feigned composure, “New Year gifts.”

Xiao Pai thought about it.

Made sense.

Bringing a bedding set as a New Year’s gift when visiting relatives is quite practical.

Since the Lunar New Year was approaching, work schedules were being adjusted, and almost no one in the entire country could focus on work or school anymore.

To wrap up their tasks before the holiday, professional players started streaming whenever they had the chance, trying to get as much work done as possible.

On Wednesday, WLG had an evening training session. With the post-training review, it ended quite late.

However, Yu Haotian still asked both the first and second teams to stay behind. His expression was unusually serious, even a bit heavy, as he told them he had an important announcement to make.

The coach took a seat at the side of the conference table, leaving the central position to Yu Haotian.

Everyone looked toward the front.

Xiao Pai, ever the optimist, whispered to Sang Ye, “Do you think they’re increasing the bonus?”

Sang Ye, now a man with twenty properties in Shanghai, didn’t care much about bonuses anymore. He glanced at Yu Haotian’s expression and said, “Doesn’t seem like it.”

Xiao Pai was still cheerful. “Then what else could it be?”

Yu Haotian straightened the documents on the table and looked up. “This is something that will significantly impact our roster after the New Year,” he said. “Hu Fu will be retiring before the end of the year and won’t be competing in the next Spring Split.”

“…………”

The conference room instantly fell into a deathly silence.

Only Hu Fu, scratching his head and looking around, still had his usual cheerful expression. “Really? Not even a single reaction to my retirement?”

Yu Haotian sighed and continued, “Hu Fu will be turning 27 after the New Year. He’s been a professional player for a full decade, dating all the way back to the CS era. He’s the senior among everyone here. In most industries, 27 is when people are just hitting their stride, but in esports, it’s considered old age.

“We can’t force him to stay. WLG is honored to have worked with a player like Hu Fu. It’s a shame that he’s retiring, but looking at the past two years—winning two consecutive global championships—at least Old Hu is leaving on a high note.”

Hu Fu burst into laughter. “What kind of thing are you saying!”

Xiao Pai was the first to lose it—he suddenly started wailing.

Hu Fu was startled. “Xiao Pai, you…”

Xiao Pai had been on the same team as Hu Fu for three years. They frequently coordinated in matches, covering for each other. At the base, they were widely recognized as the ultimate comedy duo, always joking around in practice games, never missing a punchline.

With someone like Hu Fu to banter with, the otherwise grueling daily training sessions felt more bearable for Xiao Pai. Even though he always called Hu Fu “fatty” every day, deep down, he had great respect for his big brother figure. So among everyone, Xiao Pai was the one who struggled the most to accept Hu Fu’s retirement.

Xiao Pai, caring nothing for his dignity, bawled his eyes out. “Fatty… fatty…”

“Don’t be so dramatic, you’re making this weird for me,” Hu Fu said with a laugh. But as he laughed, his eyes turned red.

One by one, the team members stood up, walked over to Hu Fu, patted his shoulder, and clasped his hands tightly.

WLG’s success wasn’t due to any one person alone. As a sniper, Hu Fu wasn’t the flashiest player on the field—high-risk, explosive close-range plays were usually handled by the team’s assault players. But the only way those assault players could execute consistently was if they had proper vision and backup.

Hu Fu, with his rock-solid stability, had provided that security for Tan Mo, Sang Ye, and Shine. His mistake rate was arguably the lowest among active players. For ten years, he had stood his ground, unwavering in his role.

That was why the team respected him so much—and why they couldn’t bear to see him go.

The somber mood lingered in the meeting room for quite a while. Even the coach felt like something had gotten into his eye. Finally, he waved his hand. “Go home. If you guys have anything to say, say it outside.”

Sang Ye was about to leave with the rest of the team when Yu Haotian called him back.

Once the room was empty except for the two of them, Yu Haotian said, “We’re planning to promote E Lan to the first team.”

As expected.

Sang Ye let out a nonchalant “Oh,” showing no surprise.

But he didn’t dwell on it too much. Ever since learning about Hu Fu’s retirement, his mind had been filled with other thoughts.

“Back to the main point,” Yu Haotian said. “On New Year’s Eve, Maoya is hosting a live-stream event. They want to invite influential streamers on the platform to watch the Spring Festival Gala with their fans. You don’t need to play games, or even log into a computer. To put it simply, it’s a casual, talk-based event—you just keep your phone streaming on the side, turn on the TV, and make a few comments about the show.”

Sang Ye was straightforward. “I don’t want to watch the Spring Festival Gala.”

“…” Yu Haotian rubbed his forehead in frustration. “As a goodwill gesture—and to strengthen our future partnership with the platform—the club has to send someone for this event. That person is either you or Talk. If you’re sure you don’t want to do it, I’ll ask Talk.”

Sang Ye said, “Talk is spending the festival with me.”

Yu Haotian: “…Then just stream together.”

Sang Ye was reasonable. Even though he found it a hassle, he still took on the task.

Yu Haotian was pleased and even gave Sang Ye a quick crash course on the art of making witty remarks.

Even though the atmosphere was meant to be lighthearted, they would be watching the Spring Festival Gala. As a host, there were certain things he couldn’t say recklessly.

By the time Sang Ye left the meeting room, an hour had already passed.

He didn’t think much of the New Year’s Eve event. The moment he stepped outside, his mind returned to Hu Fu’s retirement.

Since this was his first time witnessing a teammate retire from the esports stage, he naturally thought about the fact that, sooner or later, Tan Mo would have to retire as well.

At most… two more years, right?

Sang Ye dropped his head, absentmindedly running his hand along the tiled walls as he walked toward the practice room, his shadow dragging behind him.

In two years, if everything went as expected, he would be entering the prime of his professional career, stepping into his peak. But by then, Tan Mo would no longer be by his side. They would no longer be able to share trophies and glory.

Hu Fu’s retirement made Sang Ye feel a sense of regret and sadness. But when he thought about Tan Mo retiring, he felt an almost childish panic, as if he was about to be weaned off something essential.

Even though that day hadn’t arrived yet.

Sang Ye walked back to the practice room, conflicted all the way, only to find that Xiao Pai and Hu Fu had already left. The only one still there was Tan Mo, who was playing a game.

Tan Mo glanced at him. “The game’s only halfway through. Do you want to leave first?”

Sang Ye pressed his lips together, walked over to his desk, but didn’t sit down. “I’ll wait for you.” Then he started packing up his things.

“Alright.” Tan Mo turned his focus back to the computer and continued playing, completely unfazed.

Sang Ye’s hands froze for a moment. He took a deep breath and yanked open the drawer with a bit more force than necessary. Sweeping the cluttered items on his desk inside, he then shoved the drawer closed with equal force.

Tan Mo didn’t even glance over.

A spark of anger flared in Sang Ye’s chest. He was sure he had made it obvious that he was upset, yet when he walked in, Tan Mo hadn’t noticed anything at all.

How could he be fine after hearing about Hu Fu’s retirement?

Did he really not have the time to ask about his feelings?

Where was all that attentiveness and consideration from before?

They had only been together for a few days—was this already how things were going to be?

Suppressing his frustration, Sang Ye glanced at Tan Mo’s screen.

He wasn’t playing with teammates. Just solo.

“Is this ranked?” he asked.

“No,” Tan Mo replied without looking away, fingers tapping on the keyboard. “Just a casual match.”

Without warning, Sang Ye strode forward, grabbed Tan Mo’s wrist, pulled off his headset, and tossed it onto the desk. Then, he shoved Tan Mo’s chair back and boldly straddled his lap.

“…”

Tan Mo’s hands hovered midair, blinking once. His expression remained unreadable, but for a moment, he seemed frozen in place.

Sang Ye leaned into Tan Mo’s chest, bowing his head as he absentmindedly picked at his nails, frowning in irritation. “All you do is play games. Games, games, games! Are they more fun than me? I’m feeling awful, and you don’t even care!”

“…”

“Say something!” Sang Ye tilted his head up, letting out a soft whine that only ever came out when they were alone. “Why aren’t you talking? Are you mad? You’ve got some nerve to be mad… I’m leaving! Go marry your game! You don’t even deserve a boyfriend!”

As soon as he finished speaking, Sang Ye struggled to stand up.

Tan Mo, still looking at the computer, placed a hand on Sang Ye to hold him in place. He pressed his lips together lightly, pulled Sang Ye closer to the desk while still seated, reached for the mouse, and exited the game. Then, he switched to the backend panel.

His voice remained calm. “Hold on, let me close the livestream.”

“……………”

Sang Ye froze completely, unable to breathe.

Like a system experiencing a glitch, he stiffly turned his head, only to see Tan Mo’s livestream interface filled with an overwhelming flood of colorful chat messages stacked so densely that he couldn’t make out a single word.

In the top-right corner of the backend screen, the small preview window displayed his own dumbfounded expression—still curled up sideways in Tan Mo’s arms.

[“AAAAAAAAAAH!!! SANG FU GUI, YOUR COLD AND ALOOF IMAGE HAS COMPLETELY! SHATTERED!!!”]

…

The practice room fell into a prolonged silence.

Sang Ye pressed his hands to his face as if he had suffered a massive blow, whispering, “What do I do? I have no dignity left. How am I supposed to stream or compete after this…”

Tan Mo struggled to hold back his laughter, patting Sang Ye’s back like he was soothing a child. “It’s fine. A few years from now, when this wave of netizens moves on, no one outside the internet will remember.”

“…” Sang Ye felt even more suffocated.

Even though he knew Tan Mo was teasing him, he didn’t have the energy to argue right now.

Tan Mo’s expression became a bit more serious. He pulled down one of Sang Ye’s hands and kneaded it gently in his own. “What’s bothering you? Hu Fu’s retirement?”

Sang Ye’s face was still flushed. He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Everyone enters at different times. It’s not just Hu Fu—one day, it’ll be Miao Sen, Ji Feng, and Jin Cao. One by one, the teammates we know will leave.” Tan Mo paused, then said in a softer voice, “That’s just how it is. Even if we’re not competing together, our friendships can last a lifetime. We’ll still keep in touch.”

Sang Ye felt a little better, but something still weighed heavily on his heart. He buried his face into the crook of Tan Mo’s neck. “But I don’t want you to retire. If you leave too… I don’t want to be alone…”

Tan Mo stiffened slightly. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he gently squeezed Sang Ye’s hand.

Being depended on so completely by Sang Ye felt good, but…

“I won’t leave.”

Sang Ye fell silent for a moment, thinking Tan Mo was just trying to comfort him. He lifted his head, his small face looking disappointed. “What about after you retire?”

“Even after I retire, I’ll still have to clock in at work every day,” Tan Mo said. “The club belongs to me. Where else would I go?”

“…………”

Sang Ye studied Tan Mo for a long moment. Realizing that he was actually the mysterious boss that Xiao Pai had been complaining about all this time, he found it a bit surreal.

“Why didn’t you tell everyone?”

“I didn’t want it to affect the team dynamic,” Tan Mo replied with a half-smile. “Besides, if I revealed my identity, how else would I get to hear all your complaints?”

“…” Sang Ye suddenly remembered that he had also complained about the boss before. His face immediately heated up.

Tan Mo was too cunning—hiding in the crowd, effortlessly gathering intel without needing spies.

No wonder he never had the usual grievances of a regular employee.

Sang Ye quickly changed the subject. “So after retiring, you’ll focus on running the club?”

“That’s the plan for now,” Tan Mo said casually. “So there’s no scenario where we’d be separated after I retire. When I step back, you’ll be WLG’s star player. I need to figure out how to exploit you, package you, and make you generate millions for the club.”

“…” Sang Ye huffed. “So you’re just planning to live off me?”

“Exactly.” Tan Mo admitted without hesitation. “I rely on my wife to support me.”

Sang Ye finally perked up. He sat up straight and grabbed Tan Mo’s ears with both hands. “If you dare to exploit me or treat me badly, I’ll transfer to another team once my contract is up.”

“Good reminder.” Tan Mo pulled down one of Sang Ye’s hands and kissed it. “Before your wings fully grow, I should renegotiate your contract. Two years is too short—not enough leverage.”

“Then how many years do you want to sign for?”

“Ten thousand years.”

…

Sang Ye initially thought Tan Mo’s “ten thousand years” remark was just a joke.

But on the last workday of the year, during the daytime on New Year’s Eve, Yu Haotian called him over. When he saw a brand-new contract spread out in front of him, he realized Tan Mo had been completely serious.

“…”

Yu Haotian explained, “The term is… ten thousand years. Ahem… I’ll assume you two have already discussed this privately. The revenue split has also been adjusted—any endorsement or streaming-related income, you’ll now receive 90%. And if you sign, you’ll own 30% of the club’s shares. Starting this year, you’ll be eligible for the year-end dividend.”

Owning shares meant that Sang Ye would also have control over the club, officially making him the “boss’s wife.”

Yu Haotian handed him a pen.

Sang Ye glanced at the contract, took the pen, and signed his name.

He felt a bit exhausted.

He didn’t need to buy a house, had no time to travel due to training, and had more money than he could ever spend.

After 5 PM, everyone packed their bags, preparing to go home.

They exchanged New Year’s greetings, marking the end of a year spent together.

That evening, Sang Ye was heading to Tan Mo’s family estate for dinner. Tan Chunshan was already waiting by their feet.

The little golden retriever was wearing a red sweater today, looking both festive and handsome.

Just before they left, Tan Mo was helping Sang Ye wrap his scarf when he suddenly received a call from Tan Zhengfeng.

After listening for a few seconds, Tan Mo simply said, “Got it,” then hung up. He gently tapped Sang Ye’s nose and said, “We need to hurry—your parents will be landing at Hongqiao Airport in half an hour.”

Sang Ye was stunned, but in the next second, a wave of excitement surged within him.

His parents had originally said they wouldn’t come until the second day of the new year!

Sang Huaxin and Fang Yuerong had planned to have New Year’s Eve dinner with relatives and friends. Since Spring Festival travel was hectic and tickets were hard to get, they didn’t want to deal with the crowds. Besides, Sang Huaxin had a business meeting scheduled for the first day of the new year.

However, in order to invite Sang Ye’s parents to Shanghai for New Year’s Eve dinner, Tan Zhengfeng privately reached out to Sang Huaxin. He assured them they didn’t need to worry about Spring Festival travel and then inquired about Sang Huaxin’s business projects. As it happened, Tan Zhengfeng had the right connections and helped facilitate a deal. As a result, Sang Huaxin secured the contract before the New Year.

Sang Huaxin was so delighted that, even over the phone, he was already addressing his future in-law as if they were sworn brothers.

It had to be said—business relationships built on mutual benefit were often the most genuine.

Sang Ye and Tan Mo went to the VIP airport terminal to pick up his parents. Before long, Tan Zhengfeng also arrived.

Through the glass wall, Sang Ye saw a small private jet gradually land and come to a stop. As the cabin door slowly opened, his parents stepped off the plane with composure, walking against the wind.

Sang Ye turned to Tan Mo in surprise, only to learn that the jet belonged to Tan Zhengfeng.

“…Oh.”

The two families met in the terminal.

Fang Yuerong, unconcerned about the people around them, immediately pulled Sang Ye into a tight embrace and planted two affectionate kisses on his head. She beamed at him and cooed, “My puppy, let me have a look at you.”

Meanwhile, Sang Huaxin strode straight toward Tan Zhengfeng, greeting him enthusiastically with an outstretched hand. “Brother Tan, we finally meet! Where have you been making your fortune lately?”

Tan Zhengfeng smiled as he shook his hand, his tone humble and modest. “Oh, no, no, just small businesses, not much profit at all.”

The assistant standing nearby thought to himself, …Yeah, right.

After the Sang family reunited, they all headed to the villa at the family estate.

The two younger men took the same car they had arrived in, while Sang Huaxin and Fang Yuerong rode with Tan Zhengfeng.

In the car, the two sets of parents chatted enthusiastically.

The more Tan Zhengfeng observed Sang Ye, the more satisfied he became.

The main reason was that Sang Ye was the person Tan Mo loved. Secondly, Sang Ye was naturally likable—his personality was endearing, and he wasn’t just an ordinary wealthy second-generation heir. He had both talent and capability, and at such a young age, he had already reached the pinnacle of his industry. Another bonus was his exceptional family background. The integration of capital from both families would bring even greater and more stable benefits.

Similarly, Sang Huaxin and Fang Yuerong viewed Tan Mo in the same favorable light.

Not only was he exceptionally good to their son, but they had also heard that as soon as their relationship was made public, he gifted Sang Ye twenty properties. He was handsome, accomplished, and, to their surprise, the Tan family’s wealth and social status were far more impressive than they had initially imagined.

So, despite meeting for the first time, the atmosphere was warm and harmonious.

After arriving at the estate, the families enjoyed a lively New Year’s Eve dinner together.

As the television was turned on, the Spring Festival Gala began.

Tan Zhengfeng had a mahjong table set up in the living room.

Since it was Tan Mo’s first time meeting Sang Ye’s parents, he naturally stayed behind to accompany them.

Sang Ye, however, didn’t know how to play mahjong and happened to have something else to do. After greeting everyone, he went upstairs to start his livestream.

The moment Sang Ye’s stream went live, it skyrocketed to the top of the homepage rankings.

Viewers instantly swarmed in and wouldn’t let him off the hook.

[“All you do is play games! Is gaming more fun than me?!”]

[“I’m dying here, and you don’t even care!”]

[“Go be with your game!”]

“…” Sang Ye slumped on the sofa in Tan Mo’s room, a laptop in front of him. He pulled a blanket over himself and set his phone aside. Ignoring some of the comments, he muttered, “I’m watching the Spring Festival Gala.”

[“It hasn’t officially started yet! Chat with us for a bit!”]

[“Where are you celebrating?”]

Sang Ye: “That’s a secret.”

[“Aren’t you spending the night with Tan Mo?”]

Sang Ye: “He’s downstairs.”

[“Ooooh, got it! Meeting the parents!”]

[“How did you introduce him to them? Did you say ‘This is my boyfriend,’ or did you say ‘This is my husband’?!”]

Sang Ye was speechless. “Obviously, I said he’s my boyfriend. Why would I randomly call him my husband? What would that make me…? Okay, no more chatting, the show’s starting.”

As expected, the Spring Festival Gala was the usual mix of singing, dancing, and comedy sketches. Some jokes were actually quite funny, and Sang Ye found himself laughing.

However, some performances were truly awkward. During those moments, Sang Ye would check his livestream chat to see what viewers were complaining about or simply chat with friends on his phone.

Compared to the quiet atmosphere upstairs, things were much livelier downstairs.

Sang Huaxin was loud and animated at the mahjong table—wherever he was, the energy followed.

Tan Mo, meanwhile, kept feeding Fang Yuerong winning tiles, making his mother-in-law so happy that she was grinning from ear to ear.

By ten o’clock, everyone was still full of energy, completely immersed in the game.

Upstairs, however, Sang Ye had started rubbing his eyes.

The latter half of the gala, starting from the magic performances, had begun to feel a bit dull.

By eleven, Tan Mo excused himself, swapping seats with the housekeeper, saying he was going upstairs to check on Sang Ye.

The elders understood—young people had their own way of spending the evening.

Seeing Tan Mo leave, Tan Chunshan, who had been lying on the floor, got up and followed him upstairs.

When Tan Mo pushed open the bedroom door, he saw Sang Ye fast asleep, his head tilted to one side.

“…”

The Spring Festival Gala was still playing on the computer in front of him, and his phone was beside him, with the livestream still running. The chat was scrolling nonstop.

Tan Mo gestured for Tan Chunshan to come inside.

The little golden retriever, still drowsy, rolled its eyes at Tan Mo before wobbling its way into the room.

Tan Mo closed the door, walked softly to the sofa, and effortlessly lifted Sang Ye into his arms. Then, he sat down on the couch with Sang Ye nestled in his lap.

His movements didn’t wake Sang Ye—in fact, Sang Ye instinctively snuggled against his chest, rubbing his face against him before settling into an even deeper sleep.

In that instant, the livestream chat exploded.

[“Ahhhhhhh Tan Shen! Tan Shen! They’re on screen together!”]

[“Another day of spoiling his wife.”]

[“Wuwuwu, this is so warm and sweet. Real couples just hit different.”]

[“I could watch these two forever!”]

Tan Mo gently tucked the blanket around Sang Ye and glanced at the phone screen, noticing the flood of comments. He raised a finger to his lips in a “shush” gesture.

This signaled that he wouldn’t make a sound so as not to disturb Sang Ye’s sleep.

Tan Mo continued watching the Spring Festival Gala, not shifting his arms even once as he held Sang Ye.

Viewers noticed how deeply Sang Ye had fallen asleep, his fair cheeks tinged with a soft pink flush.

Finally, as midnight approached, the countdown began on the program.

The moment of bidding farewell to the old year and welcoming the new one was always best spent with family, loved ones, and the most important people.

Tan Mo had no choice but to wake Sang Ye.

Sang Ye opened his eyes, but his gaze remained unfocused—he wasn’t fully awake yet.

Tan Mo looked down at him, his lashes lowering slightly. If it weren’t for the livestream running beside them, he would have already leaned in for a kiss.

Instead, he brushed his fingertips across Sang Ye’s soft, fair cheeks, his eyes filled with warmth. “Little pup, Happy New Year.”

Still groggy, Sang Ye pressed his dry lips together, then lazily wrapped his arms around Tan Mo’s neck, pulling him closer. Half-asleep, he mumbled, “Hubby… Happy New Year…”

“…”

The livestream chat: [“?????”]

At that very moment, fireworks burst into bloom on the screen, and cheers erupted.

Sang Ye had welcomed a new year where all his wishes had come true.

The luckiest thing of all—he was healthy, wealthy, and surrounded by endless love.

—Extra Story: The End—

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ry’s note: Finally, Don’t Provoke The Wife Fans is finished~ ♡

Thank you to all the readers who have patiently waited for updates and supported it. (*/ω＼)

I hope you enjoy reading it. (人´∀`)

See you in the next translation~ ヾ(*´ ∇ `)ﾉ

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This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi!  (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･

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Chapter 86 – Buy A House.

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That same night after the doctor’s visit, Sang Ye’s fever finally subsided, but his cold still lingered and wouldn’t go away anytime soon.

Aside from making sure Sang Ye took his medicine every day, Tan Mo also started returning to the dormitory at noon to prepare a traditional pear soup with Chuanbei for him—good for clearing heat and nourishing the lungs.

Today, after finishing lunch on a training day, Sang Ye didn’t wait for Tan Mo to text him. Instead, he arrived early at the dormitory building.

He leaned against the kitchen doorway on the first floor, watching the man inside.

Tan Mo had long legs and a tall build, making the standard kitchen counter—perfect for Auntie Lu—seem too low for him. He was slicing pears with a knife, his sleeves rolled up to reveal pale, slender forearms, where faint purple veins subtly pulsed with the movement of his blade.

Capable in the boardroom, skilled in the kitchen—this phrase seemed tailor-made for his boyfriend.

As Sang Ye gazed at Tan Mo’s broad back at the counter, a quiet sense of pride welled up inside him, accompanied by an immense feeling of security. Yet, it was different from the care he received at home from his parents. It stirred something else within him.

No longer content to just lean at the door, Sang Ye stepped forward and draped himself bonelessly against Tan Mo’s back, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist.

Without turning around, Tan Mo sliced off a piece of pear and lifted his hand.

Sang Ye tilted his head up, rising on his tiptoes, and leaned over Tan Mo’s shoulder to take a bite of the snow-white fruit. As he pulled away, the tip of his tongue flicked over Tan Mo’s long fingers, glistening with the pear’s sweet juice.

Tan Mo curled his fingers into his palm, lowered his hand, and continued slicing. “Quit messing around.”

Sang Ye swallowed the juicy pear and finally voiced the decision that had just taken root in his mind. “Once my prize money comes in, I’m going to buy a house.”

The little coal tycoon spoke about buying property as casually as buying groceries.

“You’re already thinking about real estate at eighteen?” Tan Mo set down the knife, grabbed a heat-resistant glass pot from the side, and began filling it with water. “Sang Ye, do you even have a concept of saving money?”

Sang Ye had just spent nearly 20 million—his entire fortune—and now, before his next round of prize money had even arrived, he was already planning to invest in real estate.

Sang Ye let out a proud huff. “After I buy my house, I’m going to design a massive kitchen—just for you to cook in.”

“……”

Tan Mo tugged at the corner of his lips, suddenly realizing why Sang Ye wanted to buy a house.

The wish the boy hid behind his words was simple—he wanted a home that belonged to just the two of them.

Tan Mo had studied abroad before, then spent years living at the training base. He rarely had time to go home, and moving out on his own had never felt necessary—living at the Tan family villa was simply more convenient.

But hearing Sang Ye’s thoughts made his heart stir instantly.

He placed the pear slices, rock sugar, and Chuanbei into the water, setting the pot on the stove.

After finishing, Tan Mo turned around and leaned against the counter, eyeing Sang Ye with a half-smile. “Do you think I enjoy cooking?”

Sang Ye lifted his chin slightly and replied nonchalantly, “Either way, the kitchen is yours.”

Tan Mo said, “Don’t trouble yourself.”

Sang Ye blinked in confusion, then lowered his head slightly in disappointment. “Alright…”

Tan Mo hooked a finger under Sang Ye’s chin, his voice laced with amusement. “Don’t bother looking for a house—I have plenty of vacant properties. Just buy one from me.”

Sang Ye’s eyes lit up. “Where? How much?”

“I have properties everywhere you could want. As for the price…” Tan Mo thought for a moment and said, “Ten yuan each.”

“……”

Even a clearance sale wouldn’t be this outrageous.

Sang Ye pursed his lips. “Don’t joke around. I really want to buy one.”

“I’m not joking. I really want to sell,” Tan Mo said. “I have too many properties, and I’m not using them for investment. Leaving them empty is pointless, so I’m giving you a special friendship price.”

He wasn’t exaggerating. His real estate portfolio spanned not only China’s top-tier cities but also included estates overseas. The sheer number of properties required an annual maintenance budget of millions, managed by hired professionals. Buying another house would be a complete waste for Sang Ye.

Sang Ye studied Tan Mo for a few seconds, as if trying to determine whether he was serious. Then he stepped half a pace closer, tugged at Tan Mo’s shirt hem, and, for some reason, looked a little shy. “Then… can I buy two?”

Tan Mo: “……”

Sang Ye’s lips curled into a grin, just about to say, “I was kidding.”

“Transfer me 200 yuan on WeChat.”

Tan Mo slowly leaned in and hugged Sang Ye, speaking with utmost seriousness. “I’ll put all my Shanghai properties under your name.”

“……”

Sang Ye tilted his head back, resting his chin on Tan Mo’s shoulder, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

Was this some new kind of scam?

The water on the stove had come to a boil, bubbling loudly in the glass pot.

Sang Ye didn’t take Tan Mo’s words seriously—just like he hadn’t with the “ten yuan per house” offer.

Tan Mo loosened his embrace slightly. Taking advantage of their close proximity, he turned his head slightly, as if about to do something, but first, he deliberately glanced toward the kitchen entrance.

Sang Ye instinctively followed his gaze, checking if anyone was passing by outside.

Tan Mo was the team captain, and Sang Ye was the unofficial vice-captain. Both of them held themselves to high professional standards and didn’t want anyone thinking they were mixing training with romance. Even though they were a recognized couple within the base, they were more careful than before, ensuring no one ever caught them in an intimate moment. At the very least, their teammates wouldn’t feel that their relationship had distracted them from their careers.

That said, they had their little tricks—like “accidentally” wearing each other’s scarves or Sang Ye casually throwing on Tan Mo’s jacket before heading out.

Just like now.

Tan Mo turned Sang Ye’s face toward him. “No one’s here. Come on.”

But just as Sang Ye was about to lean in, he suddenly remembered something and quickly covered both his own mouth and Tan Mo’s. Speaking through his hands, he mumbled, “I have a cold. It’s contagious.”

Tan Mo pulled down one of Sang Ye’s hands, then the other, and raised a brow dismissively. “Do you not know how strong my immune system is?”

Sang Ye had no comeback.

And so, the next day, there were two people in the kitchen drinking Chuanbei pear soup.

Tan Mo sat across from Sang Ye, his eyes red, his nose red, stirring his bowl with a spoon, looking even more drained than Sang Ye.

Sang Ye winced at the heat as he took a bite of the pear, glanced at Tan Mo, and murmured, “I heard your immune system is really strong…”

Tan Mo: “Shut up.”

…

As the year drew to a close, everyone was counting down the days until their bonuses arrived.

In his spare time, Xiao Pai loved pulling Sang Ye aside to discuss the profit distribution for the global tournament.

“Four million isn’t realistic. Our boss has never been one for charity,” Xiao Pai said while doing calculations on his phone. “After deductions here and there, each person will get around 2.5 million.”

Sang Ye was currently broke. He hadn’t cared much before, but ever since setting his sights on buying a house, he’d become more sensitive to money matters.

Hearing that 2.5 million wouldn’t even cover a down payment, he smacked the table. “The boss really isn’t a good person!”

Tan Mo, who was drinking hot water, choked on it.

Sang Ye and Xiao Pai were too engrossed in their discussion to notice.

Xiao Pai said, “What did I tell you on your first day as an official team member? Back then, you clearly couldn’t relate.”

Sang Ye still wasn’t sure he related now, but complaining about the boss wasn’t a crime. “Time reveals a person’s true nature.”

Tan Mo wiped the water stains off the table. “That’s enough… As far as I know, this prize distribution is already at the top of the industry standard. It’s very generous.”

Before Xiao Pai could respond, Sang Ye looked at Tan Mo. “Are you afraid the boss will hear you talking behind his back?”

Tan Mo tossed the napkin into the trash. “I have no such concerns.”

“Then there’s no need to pretend.” Sang Ye confidently assured him, “We’re all on the same side here. You’re safe—we won’t tell anyone.”

“…”

Tan Mo nodded, his voice deep and hoarse from his cold. “Good to know I can count on my own people.”

While Sang Ye was still feeling slightly disappointed that his bonus wouldn’t be enough for a down payment, Friday came around, and after finishing their scrim, it was time to clock out.

Xiao Pai and Hu Fu left first.

Tan Mo slid over to Sang Ye’s side and handed him his phone. “Which one do you like?”

“……”

Sang Ye, puzzled, took the phone and looked at the screen.

Displayed on it was an interior photo of a house—a collage of different rooms, including the living room, kitchen, and bedroom. The place was spacious and fully furnished with high-end decor.

He turned to Tan Mo. “What’s this?”

Tan Mo gestured toward the phone with his chin. “Pick one first.”

So Sang Ye lowered his head and continued scrolling.

There were more than twenty pictures in total—some showcased spacious single-floor apartments, some were duplexes, and others were elegant French-style villas.

Each house had a unique design, but they were all equally stunning and located in prime areas.

Sang Ye was dazzled by the selection. Casually, he asked, “These aren’t all your properties, are they?”

Tan Mo responded with a simple “Mm. Just the ones I have locally.”

“…You’re seriously rich.”

Sang Ye sighed in admiration, though he wasn’t particularly moved—whether Tan Mo was rich or not had never mattered to him.

While choosing, he fantasized about living with Tan Mo. His requirements were simple: the place didn’t need to be too big, the kitchen counters should be high enough, and the bedroom couldn’t feel too empty—otherwise, he worried Tan Mo wouldn’t sleep well at night.

Sang Ye settled on a single-floor apartment and handed the phone back to Tan Mo.

Tan Mo glanced at the choice, then grabbed his coat. “Send me ten yuan now, and I’ll take you to inspect it.”

“……”

At this point, Sang Ye still thought Tan Mo was joking.

Playing along, he pulled out his phone and sent a red envelope.

But instead of ten yuan, he sent two hundred—purely out of habit. Sending just ten felt too stingy.

Tan Mo received the transfer, noted the amount, and looked up at Sang Ye.

Sang Ye was putting on his coat. “What?”

Tan Mo put his phone away. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

…

Tan Mo drove them to the location.

The apartment Sang Ye had chosen was in a prime district, the same as their training base. It was convenient for shopping and commuting, yet the community itself was well-maintained and tranquil.

Each building was a maximum of six stories high. Sang Ye followed Tan Mo into the elevator to the sixth floor.

When Tan Mo entered the passcode on the smart lock, he deliberately had Sang Ye watch. Then, he canceled the entry and made Sang Ye input it himself.

Sang Ye punched in the numbers, and with a click, the door opened.

The interior was just as beautiful as the pictures, if not more so. The space felt even larger in person, and the place was spotless—ready to move into immediately.

Tan Mo rummaged through a cabinet near the entrance and pulled out a key, handing it to Sang Ye—a backup in case the smart lock ever malfunctioned.

Sang Ye reached out to take it.

The key landed in his palm.

Tan Mo said, “It’s yours now.”

“……”

Sang Ye didn’t believe for a second that such a beautiful apartment could be his just for transferring 200 yuan. He glanced at the key before casually stuffing it into his pocket, then looked up. “You’ll be living here with me, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Tan Mo gazed at him, his alluring eyes carrying a faint smile. “The only thing standing between us and legality is just a piece of paper.”

Sang Ye felt his face heat up. He hesitated before murmuring, “I just wanted to make sure…”

Tan Mo said, “Unless you don’t want me to move in?”

Sang Ye quickly replied, “Of course I do!”

Tan Mo: “Then what are you confirming?”

“It’s just that…” Sang Ye lowered his head, gripping the key in his pocket. “I was afraid you’d give me the key just to make me happy, but then never actually move in.”

Tan Mo quietly watched Sang Ye for a couple of seconds before stepping forward, lowering his gaze to meet his. “You’re not a caged canary.”

Sang Ye’s face turned even redder. He nudged the floor with his slippered foot. “I… I never said I was.”

Tan Mo leaned in and pulled Sang Ye into a hug, his hand gently stroking the boy’s slender back as his eyes swept over the apartment. “From now on, this is our home… It might be missing a few things, so I’ll take you shopping tomorrow. But for now, let’s cook.”

Just as Tan Mo had pointed out, the apartment—while understated in its luxury and refined design—felt somewhat lifeless, lacking the warmth of an actual home. That initial sense of detachment Sang Ye felt upon entering came from the absence of personal touches.

Since the housekeeper had been informed of Tan Mo’s early arrival, the fridge was fully stocked.

By the time the two of them finished making dinner, the kitchen was a mess. But despite the disorder, it somehow made the place feel much more lived-in, no longer cold and impersonal.

Tan Mo was an excellent cook—Sang Ye had experienced his cooking before when visiting his home, and from the first bite, he had been hooked.

That said, Tan Mo only cooked when he was in the mood, so every meal he made was something to be savored.

After dinner, they didn’t need to wash the dishes—apparently, an auntie would come in the morning to take care of it.

Sang Ye grabbed a yogurt from the fridge, feeling much more relaxed than when he first arrived. He sat on the sofa, watching a movie to help with digestion.

Half an hour later, Tan Mo rolled up his sleeves and urged, “Go take a shower.”

Sang Ye glanced at his watch.

It was only eight o’clock.

“I want to keep watching,” Sang Ye said, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Tan Mo replied, “There’s a projector in the bathroom.”

Sang Ye raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the idea of a new gadget, and went into the bathroom.

The bathroom was spacious, and sure enough, there was a projector. The walls had been specially treated to allow for high-definition projection.

While Sang Ye sat on the edge of the bathtub, browsing for a movie with the remote, Tan Mo started running the water.

Once the tub was full, Tan Mo stood beside it and began undressing.

Sang Ye: “……”

Only then did he realize that Tan Mo had meant for them to bathe together.

The movie playing in the living room still had an hour left, but Sang Ye ended up spending two whole hours in the bathroom. By the time he came out, he had no idea what happened in the second half of the film.

In the end, Tan Mo carried him out, wrapping him in a bathrobe. All ten of his fingers were wrinkled from soaking too long.

Tan Mo tucked the boy into bed, his gaze lingering on Sang Ye’s flushed face. His brows and eyes were relaxed with lingering drowsy affection, so breathtakingly beautiful that it made Tan Mo’s heart skip a beat.

He reached out and gently pinched Sang Ye’s cheek, smiling warmly. “One more time.”

“!”

Sang Ye sobered up instantly, pulling the blanket tightly around himself, leaving only his milky-white head peeking out.

“No, no more. Aren’t you tired?”

Tan Mo raised an eyebrow, his expression subtly amused.

Sang Ye immediately realized he was doomed—he wished he could bite off his own tongue.

And sure enough…

“You don’t know how good my stamina is?”

“……”

Never try to question Tan Mo, this man.

……

In the middle of the night, perhaps due to excessive energy consumption, Sang Ye dragged his weak and exhausted body to the kitchen in search of food.

This house felt much bigger in the dark than Sang Ye had expected—he nearly got lost halfway there.

Using the soft glow of the double-door refrigerator light, he crouched down and started eating some kind of snack from a sealed container. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it tasted sweet and salty—pretty good, actually.

As he ate, he glanced around at the dark surroundings. A slow, delayed sense of security and happiness settled in his heart.

From now on, on their days off, he and Tan Mo could have their own private world—no one to interfere, no one to bother them.

Before long, the hallway light flicked on, and the sound of footsteps approached.

Tan Mo walked to the kitchen doorway, still half-asleep, rubbing his eyes as he looked at Sang Ye in front of the fridge.

Sang Ye swallowed his food and held out the container to him. “Want some?”

Tan Mo didn’t pay attention to what Sang Ye was eating—his focus was entirely on the fact that Sang Ye was barefoot, standing on the cold, gleaming marble floor.

He stepped back and sat down on a chair, motioning for Sang Ye to come over.

Sang Ye walked up to him.

Tan Mo pulled him onto his lap, keeping his feet off the cold floor, and buried his face in the curve of Sang Ye’s neck, still drowsy.

“Did I wake you up?” Sang Ye stuffed two more bites into his mouth, chewing quickly.

Tan Mo shook his head, nuzzled against him for a moment, then lifted his face from Sang Ye’s neck. “Didn’t eat enough at dinner?”

Afraid of being teased, Sang Ye replied, “I’m eighteen—I’m still growing.”

“……”

Tan Mo’s eyelid twitched, his expression slowly shifting as he fully woke up.

Sang Ye didn’t notice the change in his expression—he was too focused on finishing his snack.

Once he was done, he licked his fingers, which were covered in different seasonings, and sealed the container shut.

At that moment, Tan Mo grabbed one of Sang Ye’s hands and brought it to his lips—gently taking his fingers into his mouth.

“……”

Sang Ye’s cheeks puffed slightly as he gazed at Tan Mo with his dark, doe-like eyes. Unconsciously, he licked the powder from the corner of his lips, and a visible blush spread across his face.

The wet, warm sensation on his fingertips sent an electric current racing straight to his heart. Especially as he watched Tan Mo’s pale lips gently wrap around his fingers, sliding up and down—Sang Ye’s breath momentarily hitched.

Tan Mo finally released his fingers and looked up. “I’m twenty-four—past the age of growing, but I’ve got good endurance.”

“……”

Sang Ye choked on air.

It took him a second to realize—Tan Mo thought he was implying that he was old.

That wasn’t what he meant at all…

Before he could explain, Tan Mo had already lifted him onto the dining table.

The seemingly tireless man acted recklessly, and Sang Ye’s voice carried a faint, tearful tremor.

Never mention age in front of this petty man, Tan Mo!

…

The next day, Sang Ye slept until nearly noon.

Tan Mo woke him up. “Get up and get ready—the lawyer’s here.”

Still groggy, Sang Ye grumbled and pulled the blanket over his head.

But this time, Tan Mo didn’t indulge him. He dragged him out of bed and sat him upright. “Hurry up.”

With his hair in a messy tangle, Sang Ye squinted against the bright sunlight, barely able to open his eyes. He whined in protest.

Tan Mo walked into the bathroom and returned with a damp towel.

Pressing it against Sang Ye’s face, he wiped him down until he finally showed signs of waking up.

Sitting on the bed in a daze for a moment, Sang Ye licked his dry lips and looked up at Tan Mo. “What lawyer?”

…

Sang Ye got dressed and stepped out of the bedroom into the study, where he saw a man in a well-tailored suit sitting by the desk.

The man introduced himself briefly, stating that his surname was Chen. He maintained a professional smile as he opened his briefcase. “I’m here today to transfer Mr. Tan’s properties to your name. I’ll need you to sign some documents.”

Sang Ye sat across from him, utterly confused, and instinctively looked toward the door.

However, Tan Mo wasn’t there—he had gone to fetch breakfast for him.

Lawyer Chen placed a document in front of him and said, “This is the property contract for this apartment.”

“……”

Sang Ye’s brain short-circuited.

He hadn’t expected Tan Mo to be serious. Had he really just sold him this apartment for ten bucks?

“Wait a minute…” Sang Ye needed a moment to process this. This was practically a giveaway, and he hadn’t even decided whether he wanted to accept the house.

But before he could finish speaking, the lawyer took out another document and slid it across the table. “This one is for the French-style villa at the Bund.”

Sang Ye’s heart stopped. “……”

Lawyer Chen continued without pause, pulling out yet another document. “This one is for the Metropolitan West Suburb estate.”

“…………”

“This one is for Tomson Riviera.”

“……………”

For the next three minutes, the lawyer steadily retrieved twenty different property contracts from his briefcase, unfazed and unblinking, all while maintaining his professional smile. Then, he held out a pen. “Please sign.”

Sang Ye stared at the contracts covering the entire table, swallowed hard, and suddenly slammed the table as he shot to his feet. “I need to talk to Tan Mo.”

He stormed into the kitchen, shut the door behind him, and raised his voice in frustration—loud enough that even Lawyer Chen, sitting in the study, could hear him through the living room.

The lawyer raised an eyebrow, leaned back in his chair, and pulled out his phone. Bored, he sent a message to his girlfriend, sighing:

[The last time I handled a property transfer worth over a billion, the client was a young widow inheriting from her eighty-year-old late husband overseas. But today’s client—just twenty-four years old—seems like he’s already drafting his will for his eighteen-year-old lover.]

His girlfriend replied: […]

Then she added: [Maybe it’s just a dowry?]

But regardless of the speculation, the final outcome that morning was clear:

Sang Ye, who had been waiting for his paycheck to clear, suddenly went from being a broke office worker to a young multimillionaire worth over five hundred million.

And so, for Sang Ye, the surreal year of 2022 faded away amid the approaching footsteps of the Lunar New Year.

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This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi!  (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･

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Chapter 85 – Fear.

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At the Annual Gala

WLG successfully defended their world championship title for another year, making them the undisputed winner of the “Best Club of the Year” award.

Sang Ye took home the “MaoYa Rookie Award,” “Most Valuable Player,” and “Best Esports Individual of the Year.”

For a newcomer, he had essentially achieved a grand slam, winning every top-tier award available, becoming the brightest star of the night.

Among Tan Mo’s accolades was also the title of “Best Esports Individual of the Year.” When he went on stage to receive it, he stood right beside Sang Ye.

Netizens screamed: “They match so well! Even their awards come in couples’ editions!!!”

A high-definition image of Sang Ye and Tan Mo standing together with their crimson-colored certificates was soon posted on the official Weibo account. Fans quickly edited their awards into marriage certificates.

The internet collectively urged: “Hurry up and get married, Talk and Song!”

The Post-Gala Banquet

The gala ended around six in the evening, and everyone was invited to the banquet afterward.

The WLG members sat at one table, enjoying their meal while performances played on stage.

Hu Fu drank a lot that night. Every now and then, he would pick up his crystal trophy, stroke it, glance at it, then fall silent. He spoke far less than usual, his expression difficult to decipher.

The air conditioning in the venue was set quite high, but Sang Ye would still get sudden chills, his skin breaking out in goosebumps. He figured it was because his seat was facing the open doorway of an emergency exit nearby.

Tan Mo noticed Sang Ye pulling on his suit jacket and asked, “Cold?”

Sang Ye nodded toward the emergency exit. “There’s a draft.”

“Switch seats with me.” Tan Mo removed the napkin from his lap and stood up.

“No need.” Sang Ye tugged him back.

“Come on,” Tan Mo insisted. “I need to grab something from outside anyway.”

While Tan Mo was gone, Sang Ye switched their seats and swapped their plates as well.

Across the table, Xiao Pai watched, half envious, half annoyed. “Unbelievable. You’re such a delicate flower, can’t even handle a little breeze.”

Sang Ye lifted his gaze. “Is that how you talk to your brother?”

Xiao Pai clicked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Being someone’s ‘sister-in-law’ sure makes you cocky.”

Sang Ye warned, “Watch your words.”

Xiao Pai wasn’t afraid at all. “Go ahead, go whisper sweet nothings to my brother!”

“What are you so worked up about?”

“Who do you think made me do a headstand with diarrhea?!”

“Hey!” Yu Haotian tapped Xiao Pai with his spoon, frowning in disgust. “We’re eating. Do you want me to finish this pumpkin soup or not?”

Sang Ye calmly folded his napkin, his face indifferent. “Maybe you should learn to think before you speak.”

“You—!” Xiao Pai, at a loss for words, hugged the wine bottle to his chest, looking utterly miserable. “Back then, when things got messy, I was the one stupidly clarifying things for you two. And now look at me.”

Sang Ye said, “No one asked you to.”

“……”

Xiao Pai felt utterly bitter and took a long swig straight from the bottle.

Sang Ye watched him for two seconds before saying, “I’ve misspoken in the past too. Like that time I lost a bet with the netizens and had to wear a dress.”

Xiao Pai froze for a moment, then put down the bottle. He felt a little better.

He understood Sang Ye’s meaning—who hasn’t made mistakes?

Right now, all his fussing and whining was just his way of trying to get either Tan Mo or Sang Ye to comfort him, to soothe his betrayed soul.

He withdrew his thorns and scratched his cheek. “I know…”

“Later, I actually wore the dress,” Sang Ye continued. “What about you?”

Xiao Pai: “……”

“When are you going live for your performance?”

“…………”

Are you even human?

Tan Mo returned after ten minutes, carrying a down jacket and a scarf—things Sang Ye had left in the car before entering the venue.

Sang Ye hadn’t expected him to go that far just to retrieve them. He was a bit stunned. “I’m not putting them on right now.”

Everyone at the banquet was in formal attire; no one was wearing a down jacket.

Tan Mo draped the clothes over the back of Sang Ye’s chair. “There’s still some distance between here and the parking lot. The temperature difference will be noticeable.”

“……” Xiao Pai took a deep breath. The more he watched, the more ridiculous it all seemed. He turned to stare at the stage instead.

So when his brother and the white-haired guy were keeping things under wraps, they were actually hiding it well. But now that they were public, there were no restraints anymore—they spoiled each other openly and without hesitation.

Even back at the base, while they didn’t engage in over-the-top couple behaviors, every word and action showed how much they had eyes only for each other.

No single dog in the base survived.

Sang Ye said, “I’ll put it on when we leave.”

Even someone as slow as him could feel how meticulous and caring Tan Mo was toward him.

Tan Mo sat down and casually picked up Sang Ye’s glass, glancing inside. “Drink less. I don’t want to take care of a drunk tonight.”

“I didn’t drink much…” Sang Ye immediately realized that wasn’t the point and snatched his glass back. “Who said you had to take care of me?”

Tan Mo enjoyed seeing him act tough and ruffled his hair.

Sang Ye didn’t think he’d get drunk tonight. He only planned to finish the glass of red wine he had poured at the beginning, which was well within his limits.

However, as the evening progressed and the formalities wrapped up, people started moving freely between tables.

Since Sang Ye was the star of the night, many people came over to toast him.

Tan Mo turned down most of the offers on his behalf and barely drank himself, keeping a rational stance throughout.

But then someone raised their glass and said, “To the two of you—may you stay together forever.”

Now, that was something Tan Mo liked to hear.

As someone who thoroughly enjoyed treating people to wedding banquets, he wouldn’t refuse any well-wishes.

So, by the time the event ended, Tan Mo was slouched in his seat, his elbow resting on the chair back and table edge, his head drooping, cheeks flushed red. His tie was loosened, and the collar of his dress shirt was wrinkled. He had been sitting in that position for quite a while.

Just as he was sobering up in silence, a warm body leaned against his back.

Tan Mo tilted his head.

Sang Ye’s rosy face was nestled against his shoulder, his dark, glossy eyes curved into a tipsy smile.

At this close distance, their breaths intertwined—both carrying the scent of alcohol.

Tan Mo was in slightly better shape than Sang Ye. Before they left, he steadied the swaying young man, helped him put on his down jacket, and wrapped a scarf around him.

As soon as they stepped out of the venue, the cold wind hit them. Sang Ye shivered, tucking his hands into his sleeves and burying his face into the scarf.

The two stood at the entrance, waiting for the club’s car to arrive.

Tan Mo asked, “Still cold?”

Even though he was wearing a suit, the alcohol made his body feel warm.

Sang Ye mumbled, “A little…”

Tan Mo looked at the boy, shrinking into himself like a pitiful little thing, and teased, “Are you really that weak?”

“I used to be very strong,” Sang Ye frowned, gazing at Tan Mo with a face full of grievance and complaint. “You must have ruined me.”

“…”

Tan Mo immediately reached out to cover Sang Ye’s mouth, glancing around before exhaling a warm breath.

When Sang Ye was drunk, he was completely unrestrained—if left unchecked, who knew what he’d say next?

The driver safely dropped everyone off at the base.

Seeing that Tan Mo was struggling to stand properly himself while still supporting Sang Ye, Xiao Pai offered, “Brother, I’ll take Bai Mao upstairs.”

“I got it.” Tan Mo glanced at the dazed Sang Ye and said, “He’s too drunk to bathe on his own.”

Xiao Pai let out a long “Aih…” and shook his head helplessly. “You’re basically raising a son at this point.”

“Impossible!” Sang Ye suddenly sprang to life, struggling to stand up straight. With all the dignity he could muster, he declared to Tan Mo, “I will never call you ‘Daddy’!”

Xiao Pai: “???”

Tan Mo: “…” Instantly sobering up, he hurriedly dragged Sang Ye away.

Once they reached the third floor, Tan Mo placed Sang Ye onto the bed and was about to run a bath for him.

But Sang Ye clung onto him, whining and causing trouble. “So hot…”

Here we go again.

Tan Mo’s breathing grew heavier. The hand supporting his weight loosened slightly as he leaned down, pressing more of his body onto Sang Ye. “What are you trying to do?”

Sang Ye’s voice was soft. “I want that.”

Tan Mo began undoing the crystal buttons of his white shirt, too rushed to go downstairs for his camera. “If you dare play dumb in the morning, I swear I’ll beat you. Got it?”

Sang Ye promised seriously, “I won’t.”

What he didn’t say was—why would he ever go back on his word?

He had always been someone who took responsibility for his actions.

The atmosphere in the room quickly heated up. The alcohol fueled their body heat, making their movements impatient. Just as Tan Mo had stripped down and pulled open the bedside drawer, he realized—the box of cond*ms was empty.

“…”

Tan Mo stretched his arm, rummaging through the drawer.

On weekends, if he didn’t take Sang Ye home, he would come up to the third floor to sleep—because Sang Ye was the only one living on this entire floor, no matter how loud they got, no one would hear.

So, they always kept their supplies in Sang Ye’s room. If it wasn’t here, then it really wasn’t anywhere.

With a sharp bang, Tan Mo slammed the drawer shut, grabbing his pants. No matter how composed he usually was, at a moment like this, he couldn’t help but curse. “F***.”

Sang Ye, in a soft, whining tone, urged, “Hurry up, hurry up.”

Tan Mo pressed a soothing kiss to the corner of his eye and explained, “We’re out. Let’s just forget about it tonight. Be good.”

Sang Ye whispered near his ear, “Then don’t use one…”

“…”

Tan Mo’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He pushed Sang Ye’s head to the side. “Do you even know what you’re saying? You know the risks?”

But Sang Ye was relentless, pressing closer. His heated breath sent a flush up Tan Mo’s ears. “It’s fine, just this once… you can… inside…”

The last part, murmured in a hushed, sultry whisper, was too tempting.

Tan Mo, already more impulsive than usual due to the alcohol, tried to stay rational for two seconds—before finally losing control.

Maybe it was the drinks, but tonight, Sang Ye felt especially warm.

Too warm. Unnaturally warm.

Tan Mo lowered his head, feeling like he was melting, unable to suppress the deep, satisfied growl that escaped his throat.

The next morning, Sang Ye was in terrible shape.

Curled up in bed, clutching his stomach, he groaned in pain.

Tan Mo frowned slightly. He had cleaned Sang Ye up in the middle of the night, but there was still a chance he hadn’t done it thoroughly.

Sang Ye’s pale face hung low, making him look weak and drained. He gasped feebly, “Are you even human?”

“…”

Sang Ye turned his gaze away from Tan Mo. “Fine, whatever. You always take advantage whenever I’m drunk—I don’t even want to argue about that. But… you couldn’t even wear a cond*m?”

“……”

For once, Tan Mo didn’t try to argue. Instead, he reached out and touched Sang Ye’s forehead. It didn’t seem too serious. “Rest a bit longer. I’ll go buy breakfast and come back.”

Sang Ye blinked in a daze, caught off guard. He had expected Tan Mo to bicker with him a little, or at least act exasperated, but there was none of that. Instead, he could see real concern in his expression.

Drowsy, Sang Ye ate a little breakfast before burrowing back under the covers for more sleep.

Tan Mo leaned against the headboard, replying to a few messages. Just as he was about to leave, he glanced down at Sang Ye—and noticed the unnatural flush spreading across his pale cheeks.

Reaching out to touch him, he was met with alarming heat.

Tan Mo froze, his face devoid of emotion for a moment. Three seconds later, his expression paled. He shook Sang Ye awake. “Get up. We’re going to the hospital.”

Sang Ye weakly turned over, facing away from him, murmuring, “Just let me sleep a little longer…”

Still relatively composed, Tan Mo tucked the blanket around him before stepping out to make a phone call.

He arranged for a private doctor to come over.

There were still about fifteen minutes before the doctor arrived.

In the meantime, Tan Mo went downstairs to grab a cooling patch. When he returned, he carefully placed it on Sang Ye’s forehead.

Then, sitting by the bed, he pulled out his phone—

And started searching on Baidu.

He combined all the keywords and searched: “internal ej*culation,” “same-s*x,” “unprotected,” “fever,” “abdominal pain”…

Among the online doctor responses, some mentioned inflammation, others warned about bacterial infections. But when his eyes landed on the name of a super-cancer that was most feared within the LGBTQ+ community, Tan Mo’s hands began to tremble uncontrollably.

He quickly glanced back at Sang Ye, who was still asleep, then ignored the time difference and called an old classmate from medical school.

Sang Ye wasn’t sleeping well. His body alternated between hot and cold, and though he heard someone leaving the room and coming back, it soon became quiet again. Just as he was about to drift off into a deeper sleep, he heard the faint sound of someone sniffling.

“…”

Still groggy, Sang Ye opened his eyes and lifted his head slightly to look back.

Tan Mo was sitting on the floor beside the bed, leaning against it, his head lowered. One hand covered his eyes, his face turned slightly away.

Even though his body felt weak and sore, Sang Ye still wriggled closer under the blanket like a little caterpillar, his head resting softly at the edge of the bed.

“…Ah Mo?”

Tan Mo shifted, kneeling by the bedside, and reached out to touch Sang Ye’s burning face. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Sang Ye blinked up at him with his clear, black-and-white eyes. He noticed that Tan Mo’s usually bright, peach-blossom eyes were glistening with moisture, the corners tinged red.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Tan Mo gently stroked Sang Ye’s forehead, his brows, his eyes—his gaze tracing every feature of the boy’s face.

But somehow, Sang Ye felt that Tan Mo looked even more upset than before.

“Don’t worry,” Sang Ye reassured him, reaching out from under the covers to hold Tan Mo’s hand. “I just need a little more sleep, and I’ll be fine.”

Tan Mo lowered his lashes.

Even Sang Ye’s palm was burning hot.

After a while, Tan Mo leaned in, burying his face against Sang Ye’s side. His voice came out hoarse.

“…I’m sorry.”

“…”

Seeing Tan Mo looking so guilt-ridden and devastated, Sang Ye momentarily panicked, wondering if he was really dying.

“…What’s wrong?” Sang Ye asked, puzzled.

Tan Mo shook his head, staying silent, though his shoulders trembled faintly.

Completely bewildered, Sang Ye kept pressing for answers, asking again and again.

Before long, there was a knock at the door.

The doctor had arrived, carrying a medical kit.

Sang Ye finally realized that Tan Mo had called a private doctor—it felt a bit excessive.

Tan Mo waited outside, squatting against the wall, then standing up again, rubbing his face. Even his breathing had become somewhat labored.

However, not even a minute later, the door reopened.

Tan Mo immediately straightened up and asked, “Does he need to be transferred to a hospital?”

“No need.” The doctor pulled the door shut and said, “It’s just the flu and a fever.”

Tan Mo blinked. “…Shouldn’t we do a full-body checkup just in case?”

The doctor, carrying his medical kit, didn’t even pause as he walked past, casually pointing a finger at Tan Mo. “You’re overreacting because you care too much.”

After the doctor left, Tan Mo gradually calmed down.

Thinking back, Sang Ye had already shown mild fever symptoms last night at the annual gala, but since Tan Mo had also been drinking, he hadn’t paid enough attention.

When he returned to the room, Sang Ye was opening the box of medicine the doctor had left behind.

Tan Mo walked over and poured him a glass of warm water.

Sang Ye sat cross-legged on the bed, swallowed the fever medicine, and stared at Tan Mo. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Mm.”

“…Can you stop crying now?”

“…Just go to sleep.”

Sang Ye lifted one side of the blanket and patted the bed.

Tan Mo hesitated for a moment before climbing in and sitting against the headboard.

Sang Ye snuggled under the blanket and wrapped his arms around Tan Mo’s waist.

He understood—Tan Mo was extremely sensitive to the idea of losing the people close to him. His fear of loss made his reactions overly intense.

After a brief silence, Tan Mo said, “I won’t do something like that again.”

For some reason, Sang Ye suddenly felt awkward. But since his face was already as red as it could get from the fever, Tan Mo didn’t notice anything unusual.

Though he was still a little dazed from the fever, something in his brain must have been triggered just now—because he had just remembered certain fragments from last night.

—In that urgent moment, he was the one who clung to Tan Mo, insisting they go without protection…

Thinking back to their time in Berlin, Tan Mo had sworn that every time Sang Ye got drunk, he was always the one to initiate things. They had even argued about it. So maybe the truth wasn’t as he had imagined…

Sang Ye began to reflect, feeling guilty. He bit his fingernail.

He lifted his head to look at Tan Mo, his eyes shimmering like scattered starlight.

Tan Mo met his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Sang Ye hesitated. “About last night… You better keep your word. You have to change next time.”

Classic case of stubborn denial.

At a time like this, Tan Mo went along with him. “Alright.”

Sang Ye hugged him tighter, burrowing into a comfortable spot, then closed his eyes with satisfaction. “Don’t be afraid. I will never leave you.”

Tan Mo lowered his gaze, looking at Sang Ye. He touched his burning-hot face, feeling how real and alive he was.

And at that moment, he knew—there was no way he could ever leave him in this lifetime.

---

This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi!  (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･

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Chapter 84

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Sang Ye finished changing and followed Tan Mo downstairs. The moment they entered the living room, the room fell silent.

A dozen pairs of eyes locked onto him all at once. Standing still, Sang Ye subtly turned his wrist and gripped his sleeve with his fingers, scanning the unfamiliar faces but unsure where to rest his gaze.

Tan Mo placed a hand on Sang Ye’s shoulder, pulling him closer as he was about to speak.

Before he could, Tan Zhengfeng took a step forward, standing beside Sang Ye and addressing the group, “Let me introduce you—this is Sang Ye, the champion of the recently concluded PUBG Global Championship and A’Mo’s boyfriend. He’s here to celebrate the festival with us today.”

The initial sense of distance vanished in an instant.

A few aunts and uncles immediately gathered around Sang Ye, their faces full of smiles as they sized up the fair-haired boy from head to toe, nodding approvingly.

“He looks so refined.”

“Really handsome.”

None of the relatives showed any surprise or disapproval that Tan Mo’s partner was a boy. Instead, they seemed genuinely pleased with Sang Ye’s appearance—many of them, after all, had a soft spot for good looks.

A little elementary schooler holding a balloon had been staring at Sang Ye for a long time. Suddenly, he straightened his posture, puffed out his tiny belly, and pointed directly at Sang Ye, exclaiming in a crisp voice, “I’ve seen you on TV! You look even better in person!”

Laughter erupted from the group.

One of the aunts playfully scolded him, “Don’t point at people like that!”

Tan Mo ruffled the little boy’s hair and teased, “Tan Mian, your words are getting smoother, but don’t go pestering him later.”

Tan Mian pouted, mumbling, “I don’t pester people…”

Later, when Sang Ye was sitting on the sofa with Tan Chunshan, watching TV, Tan Mian didn’t go off to play with the other kids. Instead, he ran over, flopped onto the cushion next to Sang Ye, and stared at him intently without blinking.

Sang Ye glanced at him briefly before continuing to watch TV.

Being the youngest in his family’s generation, he had always been taken care of by his older siblings. He had no younger cousins, so he lacked experience in looking after younger kids. However, he did have experience dealing with elementary schoolers—he had encountered them in online games before. They were terrible at playing, yet somehow convinced they were invincible.

At this age, even dogs wouldn’t want to entertain them.

In short, even though Tan Mian had immediately activated his sweet talk skill upon meeting him, Sang Ye had no interest in entertaining him.

But Tan Mian was the first to break the silence. “Are you Brother Tan Mo’s wife?”

“……”

Sang Ye’s lazy expression stiffened slightly. He sat up a little straighter, leaning against the back of the sofa.

He had to admit—this elementary schooler had something in him.

Without shifting his gaze from the TV, Sang Ye replied, “No.”

“Brother Tan Mo never brings people home,” Tan Mian muttered, fiddling with his fingers. “During festivals, the aunties always try to introduce him to someone, but he never agrees.”

Sang Ye idly stroked Tan Chunshan’s soft fur, fingers combing through it. After a couple of seconds, he asked, “Why aren’t you playing with your siblings?”

His intent to dismiss the kid was obvious.

“But you’re my brother too, Brother Ye,” Tan Mian said, tilting his head. His dark, shiny eyes stared at Sang Ye seriously. “From now on, we’re family.”

“……”

Kids these days had layers upon layers of tricks.

Sang Ye released the golden retriever and finally turned to look at Tan Mian. His husky, teenage voice was anything but enthusiastic. “What do you want?”

Tan Mian grinned mischievously and pulled out a phone from his pocket, holding it up in front of Sang Ye. “Brother Ye, help me out with something.”

Sang Ye looked down. The kid had already opened Peace Elite (PUBG Mobile) on the screen.

“……”

Holding the phone horizontally, Sang Ye skillfully maneuvered through the interface. Before starting, he made things clear. “I’m only ranking you up one tier. I’m not your booster.”

“Got it, got it!” Tan Mian nestled beside Sang Ye, eyes glued to the screen. But he didn’t forget to keep sweet-talking. “Brother Tan Mo is so stingy. He never helps me play. But you’re so nice, Brother Ye. The moment I saw you, I liked you. It’s like I’ve met you somewhere before.”

Sang Ye remained ruthless. “Sh*t up.”

Tan Mian obediently shut his mouth.

At first, the elementary schooler managed to hold back from speaking, but after witnessing Sang Ye’s impressive gameplay, he simply couldn’t contain himself.

“Wow! That’s amazing! Brother Ye, teach me!”

“So this is the power of a world champion? I’m totally blown away!”

“No wonder Brother Tan Mo likes you so much. Who could possibly resist a guy who’s this good at gaming?”

“……”

Sang Ye didn’t let the endless praise get to his head. Mobile games were nothing more than a max-level player going back to a beginner village to bully newbies.

However, Tan Mian kept bringing up Tan Mo—intentionally or not—and Sang Ye didn’t exactly mind it.

After just a few rounds, he had already ranked Tan Mian up by one tier. Tossing the phone aside, he said, “I’m watching TV now.”

Tan Mian, seeing the extra stars on his ranking, beamed with joy. “Thanks, Brother Ye!”

At that moment—

A hand suddenly reached from behind and lightly scratched Sang Ye’s chin.

Sang Ye tilted his head back, only to see that Tan Mo had somehow appeared behind the sofa without him noticing.

Tan Mian eagerly flipped his phone screen to show Tan Mo, boasting, “Brother Ye helped me rank up!”

Tan Mo glanced at Sang Ye and said, “If you don’t want to play, you don’t have to entertain him.”

Tan Mian frowned. “Brother Ye and I get along just fine. Don’t ruin our bond.”

“Oh?” Tan Mo looked at Sang Ye, raising a brow. “How close are you two?”

Sang Ye leaned back against the sofa, looking up at Tan Mo. The cold indifference he had just shown toward the elementary schooler was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his dark eyes shimmered with an unintentional hint of amusement.

Tan Mo’s heart stirred at the sight.

Leaning down, he smoothly reached out a hand—covering Tan Mian’s eyes with perfect precision.

…

Sang Ye spent a carefree three-day holiday at Tan Mo’s house.

On the last night—

Tan Mo’s phone rang. Sang Ye glanced at the caller ID—it was Yu Haotian.

Picking up the phone, he climbed out of bed barefoot, tiptoed over Tan Chunshan, and in just a few steps, reached the bathroom door. He knocked lightly.

The sound of running water stopped.

“It’s your manager,” Sang Ye called from outside.

Tan Mo’s voice came through the door. “Answer it for me.”

Before Sang Ye could respond, the water started running again.

Shrugging, Sang Ye swiped to answer the call.

Tan Mo had told him before that Yu Haotian was the first to notice their relationship, so there was no need to hide it from him.

As soon as the call connected, Yu Haotian began, “A Mo, I’ve discussed your official announcement with the PR team. We’ll address previous signs of your relationship when the time comes. Before that, you two should—”

Sang Ye climbed back into bed and interrupted, “He’s in the shower.”

“……” There was a long silence before Yu Haotian hesitantly asked, “Song?”

“Yeah.”

After a brief moment of confusion, Yu Haotian took a deep breath and said, “Forget it… Song, don’t hang up. I’ll tell you instead—it concerns both of you, so you should know.”

Sang Ye asked, “When did he talk to you about the announcement?”

“Just a couple of days ago. He suddenly messaged me saying he wanted to go public and asked me to handle it.” Yu Haotian sounded curious. “Are you still at the base? Talk didn’t go home for the holidays?”

Lowering his gaze, Sang Ye traced the patterns on the blanket with his fingers. “I’m at his house.”

“……” Yu Haotian let out a deep breath and continued, “Alright, back to the topic—before the annual awards ceremony, keep a low profile online. Avoid any behavior that might give it away. Once the ceremony is over, we’ll make it official. The time between then and the Spring Tournament should be enough for public opinion to settle.”

Sang Ye casually responded with an “Oh.” He had no objections.

“There’s one more thing I need to remind you both of.” Yu Haotian’s tone became more serious. “We don’t prohibit relationships within the team, but during training at the base, there can be no displays of affection. That includes, but is not limited to, kissing in public and staying overnight in each other’s rooms. Exceptions are only allowed on weekends or during official breaks—outside of those times, we won’t turn a blind eye.”

Sang Ye raised his eyes and blurted out, “Why?” Then, realizing his reaction, he quickly added, “W-why can’t we stay over?”

“You think about it,” Yu Haotian sighed. “If you were just regular teammates, occasionally sharing a room wouldn’t be an issue. But once your relationship is public, everyone will know you’re together. If we allow it for you two, what’s stopping others from bringing their girlfriends to the base? What would that turn the base into?”

“……”

As Yu Haotian pointed out, the dorms at the base were meant for players to rest, with their focus still primarily on training. Frequently bringing partners over wasn’t appropriate, especially in an all-male dorm. If one person started inviting their girlfriend over, it would create disturbances for the others and make management difficult.

And just because they were both men didn’t mean they should get special treatment.

Sang Ye quickly understood the reasoning and said, “Got it.”

Yu Haotian added, “Make sure to explain this to Talk too.”

“You tell him yourself.”

“…Alright. I won’t disturb your rest any longer.”

After hanging up, Sang Ye went back to sketching on his tablet.

Talented as ever, Master Sang decided to draw himself an avatar to match Tan Mo’s Weibo profile picture.

It was a bit disappointing that he wouldn’t be able to sleep with Tan Mo once they returned to the base, but Sang Ye knew he was a professional player. Discipline was necessary—training and relationships had to be kept separate. He accepted the situation quickly.

Some time passed, and the bathroom door opened. Tan Mo stepped out.

Hearing the sound, Sang Ye looked up—only to see Tan Mo emerging without a pajama top, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, drying his damp hair with another towel.

Sang Ye’s gaze lingered for two seconds on the man’s well-defined, muscular body before his instincts kicked in—like a small animal sensing imminent danger, he abruptly shut his tablet with a snap, slid down under the blanket, and said, “I’m tired. Going to sleep.”

Tan Mo glanced at the raised blanket on the bed and said indifferently, “Turn off your light.”

Sang Ye pulled the blanket up to just above his eyes, reached out one slender, pale hand, fumbled for the bedside switch, and pressed it.

The wall lamp above flickered off.

After a while, he felt the mattress dip beside him—Tan Mo had gotten into bed and was lying down.

Sang Ye slowly exhaled, realizing he had overreacted.

See? He knew it. Every couple of days would be way too frequent…

But was Tan Mo really going to sleep without drying his hair?

Just as Sang Ye’s thoughts started wandering, the man beside him suddenly turned over and pinned him down without warning.

“……”

The blanket dimmed the light slightly, and Sang Ye lay there, eyes wide open, staring up at the person above him.

Tan Mo propped himself up slightly, loosening the towel around his waist. His deep, magnetic voice dropped lower. “Go to sleep. I’ll be gentle.”

“……”

A long, slender hand reached out from beneath the blanket, and the towel slipped silently onto the carpet.

The little golden retriever sleeping soundly beside the bed stirred in the middle of the night. It blinked awake once, only to have its head pressed against the rapidly trembling bed frame, making it ache. The dog yawned, turned its head in the opposite direction, and went right back to sleep

…

With the new year, everyone returned to the base.

When Xiao Pai walked into the practice room and saw Sang Ye, he called out, “Bai Mao, what were you so busy with during the break? You didn’t reply in the group chat, and when I messaged you, you ignored me too.”

Sang Ye was indifferent. “It was a holiday. Why would I bother with coworkers?”

“Oof, harsh! You’ve broken my heart.” Xiao Pai threw his breakfast onto the table and turned to look at him. “Is your heart made of stone? I thought we were best friends.”

Sang Ye ate a wonton and replied, “Too busy.”

Busy being happily in love, barely checking his phone.

“Did you at least see the big New Year’s Eve confession? Someone rented out the entire facade of the Citigroup Tower in the Bund to propose to my brother.” Xiao Pai slid over in his chair, excited to gossip. “Hey! Be honest—do you feel threatened? Like your spot as the number one ‘wife fan’ is at risk?”

Sang Ye finished his wontons, closed the lid, and said coolly, “I’ve never known what ‘threatened’ feels like.”

If it weren’t for Yu Haotian telling them to keep a low profile before the official announcement, he might have just told Xiao Pai outright.

“For real, though.” Xiao Pai had long suspected that Sang Ye’s ‘wife fan’ title was just for show. He sighed, “If it really was a fan who did that… I have a gut feeling… the day we welcome our sister-in-law isn’t far off.”

Sang Ye glanced at him.

Xiao Pai asked, “What?”

Sang Ye wiped his mouth with a napkin and opened his laptop. “Didn’t take you for someone with intuition.”

“D*mn!” Xiao Pai smacked the table. “What did I say before? Nothing in WLG escapes my eyes! You think my eyesight is just that good? No way—it’s all instinct! Some people are just born with an extraordinary sixth sense.”

Sang Ye stared at the screen, typing in his password. “I see that now.”

Xiao Pai suddenly felt that something was different about Sang Ye after the break. He stroked his chin, scrutinizing him. “Bai Mao, what did you do over New Year’s? It’s only been three days, and your face looks… refreshed.”

It was a visible kind of radiance—his skin fair and glowing with a hint of rosy warmth, like…

Xiao Pai tensed up. “Wait, you don’t actually have a boyfriend, do you? Why do you look like you’ve been nourished and pampered by love?”

Sang Ye nearly fell off his chair. His face flushed red, and he finally snapped. “Get lost!”

Xiao Pai let out a sigh of relief.

As long as there was no boyfriend, that was fine. Otherwise, he’d really have to perform a headstand with diarrhea.

Satisfied, he rolled away.

Training match in the afternoon.

Maybe it was the lingering relaxation from New Year’s, or perhaps the festive atmosphere of the upcoming Spring Festival, but every team was playing pretty sloppily on their first day back.

Still, everyone had to review their games afterward, and a few days of scolding from their coaches would whip them back into shape.

Dinner at the Cafeteria

During dinner, Xiao Pai was furiously typing on his phone, grinning so widely that he could barely close his mouth.

Hu Fu asked, “What’s got you so happy? You win the lottery?”

“Nah!” Xiao Pai set down his chopsticks and cradled his phone with both hands. “Sister Nuo Nuo broke up with her boyfriend.”

Everyone: “……”

Why was he this happy about someone else’s breakup?

“She’s been coming to me for advice ever since they started having problems.” Xiao Pai chuckled smugly. “We’ve been talking for over half a month now. I have a feeling… my chance is coming.”

Hu Fu smirked. “You didn’t persuade her to break up, did you?”

“Do I look like that kind of person?” Xiao Pai straightened his back indignantly. “I’d never be a homewrecker.”

Hu Fu laughed. “Relax, I was just messing with you.”

Xiao Pai continued chatting on his phone for a while before suddenly stopping and frowning. “Sister Nuo Nuo says she’s feeling down and wants to queue up for four-man squad tonight…” He looked up. “Anyone free?”

Hu Fu clicked his tongue. “Bad timing. I’ve got a match scheduled with some other team tonight.”

Xiao Pai turned to Tan Mo, but before he could even ask, Tan Mo lowered his gaze and said flatly, “I don’t play games with girls. You know that.”

Sang Ye kept his head down, shoveling food into his mouth, but the corners of his lips couldn’t stop curling upward.

He knew.

It wasn’t that Tan Mo had anything against women—it was just that he avoided anything that could give rise to rumors. That was also why, despite his immense popularity over the years, he had never been caught up in any dating scandals.

…Except with him.

Xiao Pai immediately turned his pleading gaze toward Sang Ye. “Bai Mao! Help a brother out this time! If I can get two world champions to squad up, Sister Nuo Nuo will definitely see me in a different light!”

Sang Ye was in a good mood and drawled lazily, “I don’t mind.”

“Yes!” Xiao Pai pumped his fist and quickly turned to Tan Mo.

Tan Mo tilted his head, glanced at Sang Ye, raised an eyebrow, and spoke before Xiao Pai could even open his mouth. “Count me in.”

Xiao Pai: “Huh?”

That was a change of heart way too fast.

That Evening

The entire first team’s practice room went live on stream.

When it came to streaming hours, every second counted.

It had been nearly a month since Sang Ye last streamed, and the moment he went live, his viewer count skyrocketed. Meanwhile, Tan Mo’s numbers were climbing even faster.

[“Ahhhhh! What do I do?! My big hubby and little hubby are streaming at the same time—I can’t switch between them fast enough!”]

[“Is this a rap duo queue today?!”]

[“Song, do you really have a boyfriend? I’m going crazy here! Just spill already!”]

[“Is your boyfriend Talk?!”]

“We’re doing four-man squads today.” Sang Ye closed the chat window, his gaze flickering slightly. With a lazy yet sweetly aloof expression, he said, “Stop guessing. I’ve got nothing to say.”

Tan Mo was getting just as many chat questions. His deep, magnetic voice came through. “If there’s anything to announce, the club’s official account will post it. Keep an eye on official updates.”

His answer was smooth yet unassailable.

The club would choose the right time to release the news, and by then, everyone would understand.

A moment later, the two of them accepted Xiao Pai’s squad invite and entered the game lobby.

Nuo Nuo’s gentle voice held a trace of surprise. “God Tan! Why is it you…? And Song, hello to both of you.”

Sang Ye and Tan Mo both responded with a simple, simultaneous “Mm,” as their version of a greeting.

Xiao Pai laughed. “Sister Nuo Nuo, don’t be sad!”

“Actually, the breakup happened a while ago,” Nuo Nuo said with a bitter smile. “I’m single again now.”

“Being single is great! Total freedom!” Xiao Pai declared. “Forget about all the bad stuff—tonight, you’re the queen, and the three of us are here to carry you!”

Sang Ye and Tan Mo remained silent.

Xiao Pai was willing to say anything to cheer up a girl.

He was used to it.

Since it was just a casual match, the game started quickly.

On the plane, Nuo Nuo took the initiative to speak. “God Tan, are you leading the team? By the way, you never squad with girls. I don’t think I’ve ever played with you before.”

“Song,” Tan Mo suddenly called out.

Sang Ye: “What?”

Tan Mo: “You take the lead.”

Sang Ye gave a casual “Oh” and marked a drop point on the map—G Harbor, seaside villas.

He and his teammates were well-coordinated. When they landed at G Harbor, there was no need for extra reminders; everyone instinctively knew which buildings to go into.

Sang Ye entered a house with Tan Mo following closely behind. Footsteps sounded from behind them, and a glance at the minimap revealed it was Nuonuo coming in.

Xiao Pai, who had landed in a different house, called out, “Sister Nuo Nuo, come over here! I’ll protect you!”

“It’s the same either way,” Nuo Nuo said with a sweet laugh. “You’ll all protect me, won’t you?”

Xiao Pai: “Of course!”

Since Nuo Nuo was a streamer rather than a professional player, Sang Ye had no particular expectations for her. She could stand wherever she wanted.

Upstairs, Sang Ye and Tan Mo were about to split up to loot.

Nuo Nuo followed closely behind Tan Mo, her voice syrupy. “God Tan, I’ll stick with you. I can cover you, and I just feel safer around a pro~”

Tan Mo’s character had already reached the doorway but suddenly turned back and followed Sang Ye into another room instead. “I’m used to covering Song. Be careful on your own.”

Sang Ye: “?”

Nuo Nuo fell silent and entered a different building.

[“Hahahaha, I thought Talk had mastered the art of CP baiting. When he’s with Song, he’s so flirty, it’s like he’s totally enlightened. But as it turns out, when he’s with anyone else, he’s still the same deadpan self. No offense—by ‘anyone else,’ I mean literally everyone except Song.”]

[“Can I interpret this as a survival instinct?”]

[“Hope the lady streamer knows her place and moves accordingly.”]

[“This isn’t even a “carrying a girl” game, okay? God Tan can’t go three sentences without mentioning Song—where’s the interaction with the girl?”]

Sang Ye quickly looted a row of items, finding Tan Mo’s behavior today a bit odd. “Don’t follow me. Go search somewhere else.”

There were only so many supplies in one room—having two people loot the same place was a complete waste of time and resources. Tan Mo, as a professional player, should definitely know that.

But instead, Tan Mo asked him, “Are you rejecting me?”

“…” Sang Ye pressed his lips together. “No… Just stand by the wall.”

He sped up his looting while Tan Mo simply followed behind him, doing absolutely nothing.

In the last room, Sang Ye dumped an assembled gun, matching ammo, and various throwables onto the floor for Tan Mo.

As Tan Mo picked up the gear, he asked, “Don’t I look like a kept man?”

Sang Ye: “What?”

Tan Mo replied, “A kept man who follows his wife around and lives off her.”

Sang Ye: “…”

Xiao Pai sounded confused. “What are you two doing over there?”

Nuo Nuo let out a soft laugh. “Didn’t know God Tan had a sense of humor.”

Meanwhile, the chat had erupted into chaos.

[“AHHHHHH official CP is the sweetest! Official CP is unbeatable!”]

At the five-minute mark, an enemy team approached.

Sang Ye focused on target switching, while Tan Mo repositioned to cover fire.

Nuo Nuo suddenly screamed from another room, startled: “Help! Help! There’s another squad! They’re coming upstairs! God Tan, save me!”

Tan Mo heard the approaching footsteps and gave instructions remotely: “Jump out the window. Song and I can’t get to you.”

He wasn’t lying—judging by the sounds, the enemy team had already reached the hallway. Peeking out would mean instant elimination.

Before Nu Nnuo could jump, she was caught by the enemy team and eliminated.

Her stream chat exploded: [“??? What happened to fighting around the queen?”]

The four enemies proceeded toward the last room in the hallway, but the moment they stormed through the doorway, they were wiped out by Sang Ye and Tan Mo’s seamless teamwork and precise shooting.

Watching from her observer mode, Nuo Nuo sighed. “I should probably stick with you guys next round. It’s too dangerous alone.”

Neither Sang Ye nor Tan Mo responded.

Xiao Pai chimed in, “Yeah, Nuo Nuo, don’t go off alone. Stick with me next round.”

Nuo Nuo let out a forced laugh. “Alright.”

The remaining players only started rotating when the third circle began to shrink.

With no need to focus on playing, Nuo Nuo started making conversation: “I saw a news article on New Year’s Eve—someone put up a giant screen confession for God Tan at the Bund.”

Sang Ye, who was driving, finally noticed how much attention that grand confession was getting—people kept bringing it up.

Xiao Pai joined in, “That was seriously next-level impressive.”

Nuo Nuo got straight to the point: “God Tan, do you know which fan did it?”

Tan Mo replied calmly, “I do.”

“……”

Sang Ye lost control of the steering wheel for a moment. The car veered onto a hillside slope and nearly flipped into the sea.

“Hey, slow down, slow down.” Tan Mo sounded a little nervous. “Are you planning to take me for a romantic su*cide dive into the ocean?”

Sang Ye, flustered by Tan Mo’s teasing, turned red but stubbornly complained, “Y-you… talk less.”

Nuo Nuo wasn’t about to let go of the topic. She quickly asked, “Was it a female fan?”

“Sorry,” Tan Mo replied casually. “Song told me to talk less.”

“……”

The chat exploded with laughter.

[“He’s always been a bit henpecked.”]

In the second match, Nuo Nuo stuck with Xiao Pai, and they won the round with minimal effort.

For the third match, they used the same two-two split strategy—two people in each house looting together.

Nuo Nuo suggested, “This time, I’ll team up with Song?”

Sang Ye didn’t mind. “Suit yourself.”

Tan Mo stood in front of Sang Ye for a few seconds, then turned and walked away.

Xiao Pai pretended to be heartbroken. “Sister Nuo Nuo…”

Nuo Nuo playfully laughed. “It’s all the same~”

While looting on the same floor, Nuo Nuo casually started a conversation. “Song, won’t shipping CP with Tan God affect you in real life?”

“What kind of effect?” Sang Ye perched on a windowsill and fired two shots at a distant house.

A knockdown notification popped up on the system.

But from this position, he couldn’t finish the kill.

Nuo Nuo’s soft and delicate voice carried a hint of innocence. “After all, Tan God is a man too. The whole internet says you’re a couple with another guy—wouldn’t your real boyfriend get jealous?”

Sang Ye’s 6x scope crosshair wobbled slightly. He frowned. “Real boyfriend?”

“Wait, was that something I wasn’t supposed to say?” Nuo Nuo let out a small gasp, as if just realizing something, then continued, “I always thought that since you never denied it, it meant you actually had a boyfriend. If you didn’t, you could’ve just said so, right?”

Sang Ye’s live chat instantly flooded with [“???”]

[“Where’s this passive-aggressive nonsense coming from? The person involved never even responded, and she’s over here making assumptions. Is she trying to force a clarification? How is that polite?”]

At that moment, Sang Ye pulled the trigger, securing a clean kill.

“What does that have to do with you?” Tan Mo suddenly spoke up, his deep, magnetic voice tinged with coldness.

Nuo Nuo, skilled at reading tone, immediately softened her voice. “Aww, don’t be so mean to me~”

Sang Ye’s gaze darkened, his lower sclera showing slightly in an expression of sheer exasperation.

Once you notice something feels off, everything starts to feel off.

The way this woman was talking to Tan Mo right now—it was seriously starting to piss him off.

Nuo Nuo continued, “I just say whatever comes to mind, I’m straightforward like that. I’m like this with Xiao Pai all the time too, right?”

“Uh… yeah…” Xiao Pai responded dumbly. “I have a med kit here, anyone need it?”

Ignoring him, Nuo Nuo pushed her point. “But I’m not wrong, am I? Besides, if Tan God ever gets a girlfriend, she definitely wouldn’t want her boyfriend acting all sweet with another guy—”

“The hell are you talking about?”

Sang Ye suddenly let go of the mouse, ripped off his headset, and slammed it onto the table. Without another word, he got up and walked straight out.

Nuo Nuo froze awkwardly.

Tan Mo watched Sang Ye’s confident stride as he left the room. He raised an eyebrow, suppressing the curve of his lips, then casually removed his own headset as well.

For a brief moment, Sang Ye’s stream screen turned into a vast sea of blankness. It seemed like everyone in the chat was still processing this sudden turn of events.

Xiao Pai was stunned for a long time before he finally found his voice. He shouted toward the door, “Bai Mao? Bai Mao! You’re seriously just leaving like that?” Frustration turned his face red. “It’s just a game, is this really necessary? You can’t even take a joke? That’s so lame! Who do you think you are?!”

Just as he finished speaking, a large hand pressed down on the back of his neck, forcing his face into the keyboard once again.

“……”

Xiao Pai’s in-game character twisted around erratically on the spot.

Standing beside him, Tan Mo looked down at him from above. His deep, magnetic voice was calm as he said, “He’s your sister-in-law. Stop setting up these kinds of games.”

“……………”

After leaving that sentence behind, Tan Mo also walked away.

For a few seconds, every livestream involved seemed to crash in silence.

Hu Fu, who had been playing League of Legends, slowly removed his headset. He glanced at the door, then at Xiao Pai, who sat there in a daze.

To be honest, his ability to process this information wasn’t much better than Xiao Pai’s.

A long moment passed.

Xiao Pai turned to Hu Fu, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. His voice trembled as he asked, “So Bai Mao is my sister-in-law… meaning my brother is Bai Mao’s boyfriend?!”

Hu Fu hurriedly pulled out a box of tissues. “Pai, calm down. Take a deep breath.”

“How am I supposed to calm down?!”

Xiao Pai sniffled, his lips quivering.

Suddenly, he hunched over, buried his face in his hands, and let out a wailing cry.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE THESE TWO SNAKES! When did they even get together?! Why didn’t I know?!—Wait, wait, who was it that told me my brother didn’t like men? That Bai Mao liked hot girls?! I KNEW there was something going on between them! I REFUSE TO ACCEPT THIS BETRAYAL!! I’M NOT GONNA DO A HANDSTAND AND SHIT WATER!!!”

Hu Fu panicked and shoved more tissues into his hands. “Life is unpredictable, life is unpredictable.”

“WAIT A SECOND!” Xiao Pai’s head suddenly snapped up, his tears drying instantly as his gaze turned razor-sharp. “NO WONDER my brother only brought Bai Mao durian that day! That’s so cruel—AAAHHH! They were already messing around back then! BETRAYAL! A blatant, undeniable betrayal! I KNEW something was off when I didn’t get any durian!!”

“……”

Seeing Xiao Pai cry even harder, Hu Fu felt strangely conflicted.

It seemed like the durian issue upset him more than the whole handstand-and-diarrhea thing.

Meanwhile, in the livestream chat, the audience flooded the screen with “WTF!!!” as their collective shock exploded. CP fans, on the other hand, were sobbing with joy.

[“THE SHIP IS REAL!! I CAN DIE HAPPY NOW!!”]

…

That night, at exactly 10 PM, Tan Mo and Sang Ye posted on Weibo together.

wlg-Talk V: [Successfully turned a wife fan into my actual wife.]

wlg-Song V: [Successfully became a fan who caught my star.]

No extra words, no extra pictures.

However, netizens quickly noticed that Sang Ye had changed his profile picture. The new image matched the style of Tan Mo’s—exaggerated facial proportions, bold colors—clearly both drawn by Sang Ye himself.

The internet found it hilarious. Tan Mo and Sang Ye, both known for their stunning visuals, had previously provided countless aesthetic couple profile pictures. Yet, their own chosen avatars were so ridiculously goofy that they were almost meme-worthy. But the more people looked at them, the more strangely endearing they seemed.

The next morning, WLG Club’s official Weibo account updated with a post featuring screenshots of Tan Mo and Sang Ye’s announcements:

[As long as players follow club regulations, we do not interfere with in-team relationships. We kindly ask everyone not to excessively focus on players’ personal lives and to continue supporting their performance in upcoming tournaments. Lastly, congratulations to the newlyweds! 👏👏👏]

Meanwhile, beauty streamer Nuo Nuo found herself at the center of unwanted attention. Netizens started digging up every single word she had said during that infamous squad match, analyzing them line by line, and ultimately concluded—she was a drama-stirring green tea girl.

Her carefully crafted image of pure elegance collapsed overnight, and her public reputation took a nosedive. Even the platform quietly removed her from its homepage promotions.

Xiao Pai, too, finally realized that he had been manipulated by Nuo Nuo. Essentially, he had been nothing more than a loyal simp. This realization left him a bit heartbroken for two whole days.

Fortunately, he had plenty of other “big sisters” to simp for. By the third day, he was back to his usual lively self.

The news that two of the biggest esports stars were a couple continued to dominate discussions for days. The deeper fans dug, the more past moments they found, leading many to suspect that Tan Mo had been interested in Sang Ye ever since their very first team-up.

Finally, the day arrived for the Annual Gaming Awards, co-hosted by multiple major domestic platforms.

At 2 PM, a long, sleek Rolls-Royce pulled up in front of the red carpet.

The door opened, and WLG’s members stepped out one by one.

Dressed in sharp suits, they exuded confidence and charisma.

Even E Lan had styled his hair in a more mature fashion, revealing a smooth, unblemished forehead.

Tan Mo and Sang Ye walked in the center, their hands clasped together without the slightest hesitation. Matching jade rings adorned their fingers, a bold and unmistakable statement.

Along the way, fans screamed with such excitement it seemed they might faint, their voices echoing with chants of “Rap Couple!” Flashing cameras captured their every step, leaving afterimages of overexposed light in their wake.

The team paused for group photos in front of the signature wall.

Afterward, a staff member hurried over, slightly bent forward as they whispered instructions, “Excuse me, but could the Rap Couple proceed to the interview area first?”

The interviews were scheduled in batches, and at the journalists’ request, Tan Mo and Sang Ye had been grouped together.

Sang Ye’s milky-white hair was messily styled to perfection. Dressed in a well-tailored suit, his frame carried the lean, youthful sharpness of a teenage prodigy. Standing beside him, Tan Mo, with his model-like physique, created an effortlessly striking visual contrast—the two of them together were both eye-catching and perfectly matched.

In the flurry of reporters vying for attention, one voice managed to rise above the rest: “Has making your relationship public affected your daily lives?”

Tan Mo glanced at Sang Ye, silently signaling for him to answer.

“No impact,” Sang Ye replied into the microphone. “Our families are very supportive, and our teammates are already used to it.”

Laughter rippled through the press crowd.

Another reporter followed up, “If you were to break up, would it affect your careers?”

Sang Ye scoffed, “Bad omen. Next question.”

The laughter grew even louder.

Lowering his lashes slightly, Sang Ye then gave a serious response: “We won’t break up.”

Tan Mo’s lips curved into a soft smile.

The reporter chuckled. “Then I wish you both a long and happy future together.”

Yet another journalist quickly followed up, “Song, as the most talented young player in esports history, do you see yourself continuing down this path for the long run?”

Sang Ye answered without hesitation, “I love my profession. It has given me confidence, achievements, friendships, and even love. I hope the road ahead continues to expand.”

The reporter smiled warmly. “It will. Without a doubt.”

Someone turned to Tan Mo and asked, “Talk, as both a mentor and a partner, is there anything you’d like to say to Song?”

Tan Mo looked at Sang Ye.

Sang Ye met his gaze, dark pupils shimmering with anticipation.

Two seconds passed.

Tan Mo turned to the reporter and said, “No.”

“……”

The interview concluded, and under the staff’s guidance, Tan Mo and Sang Ye continued walking forward.

Once the staff had left, the two kept walking. Sang Ye gave Tan Mo’s hand a shake.

It didn’t come loose.

Frowning, Sang Ye muttered, “So you really had nothing to say to me?”

He had been fantasizing about that moment just now.

A flicker of amusement flashed in Tan Mo’s eyes, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he bent his head down.

Sang Ye was still sulking, but as if conditioned by muscle memory, he instinctively rose onto his toes, his lips meeting Tan Mo’s.

—Because there was too much to say.

Keep going.

You look stunning today.

Let’s stay together forever.

I love you.

I love you deeply.

I want to spend every shining moment of my life with you.

…

There was too much to say, so much that he didn’t know where to begin.

The kiss lasted only for a fleeting moment before they parted, but the cameras on site still managed to capture it.

Netizens frantically took screenshots in front of their screens.

The image froze—of a man and a young man kissing, sunlight solidified within the jade of their rings.

Among the scrolling comments, one message passed by:

[“I see courage and admiration, sincerity and eternity. Talk and Song must keep walking forward, hand in hand.”]

---

This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi!  (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･

---

Chapter 83 – Fireworks.

---

Displaying text on the public screen of the Citibank Tower costs hundreds of thousands per minute, and on holidays, it’s even more expensive. Yet, Sang Ye had the message scroll for a full ten minutes.

With such a grand confession, the whole world must have known by now. Within minutes, it had already trended on social media, with netizens eagerly discussing who had bought the screen time for Tan Mo.

However, both the fan club and the official esports organization denied any involvement.

[Oh my god, whoever did this must be truly in love.]

[Rich people really have their own way of being fans.]

[If someone went to this extent to confess to me, I’d marry them on the spot.]

The WLG team’s group chat was just as lively, with constant mentions of Tan Mo.

3.1415926: [[Image]]

3.1415926: [@T. Brother! Have you seen the news? Someone made a high-profile confession to you at the Bund!]

NotChangingMyNameUntilILose10kg: [@T. You really should’ve gone to the Bund to watch the fireworks tonight. Witnessing that in person would’ve been a total surprise.]

Jin Cao: [I was there in person. Even though I wasn’t the main character, I was still blown away.]

Ji Feng: [@T. @S. Tan Shen and Song, are you two hanging out together? I’m near the Bund, and while waiting at a red light, I swear I saw you guys.]

3.1415926: [??? @T. @S.]

3.1415926: [Did you guys go out to eat without me again? Just give me a call, and I’ll be there in no time!]

Ji Feng: [But maybe not. I was too far away, though their height and hair color looked similar. Plus, the couple I saw kissed while walking.]

3.1415926: [Then it definitely wasn’t them. I knew it—how could you guys go out and not bring me along?]

Yet, no matter how heated their discussion became, neither Tan Mo nor Sang Ye participated.

As they walked out of the restaurant toward the elevator, Tan Mo reached to press the button for the ground floor, but Sang Ye grabbed his wrist.

Glancing behind to confirm no one was around, Sang Ye stepped closer, lowered his head slightly, and pulled a card from his pocket, handing it to Tan Mo.

But just as the card was about to reach Tan Mo’s hand, he suddenly pulled it back, raised his gaze, and double-checked, “You won’t be mad, right?”

Tan Mo glanced down—it was a room key for this very hotel.

Sang Ye had come even more prepared than he had imagined.

Tan Mo suppressed his emotions, lifted his gaze, and calmly asked in return, “Why would I be angry?”

Sang Ye felt uneasy under Tan Mo’s intense stare and lowered his eyes. “Xiao Pai said that back when you were competing in Korea, a high-ranking official slipped you a room key, and you beat him up.”

Tan Mo was silent for a moment before stepping forward. “When did Xiao Pai tell you that?”

“During the summer season,” Sang Ye replied.

“Before I answer your question, I want to clarify something first.” Tan Mo reached out, wrapping an arm around Sang Ye’s lower back. He tilted his head closer to Sang Ye’s increasingly flushed face, tightening his grip slightly as he kneaded Sang Ye’s waist. He lowered his voice, “You haven’t been pretending to be straight for over two months because of this, have you?”

Sang Ye braced both hands against Tan Mo’s shoulders, standing on tiptoe slightly, his breath unsteady. “It’s not exactly pretending… I just didn’t want you to dislike me.”

“I hope you understand—what happened in Korea was s*xual harassment. And when it comes to harassers, regardless of gender, how else would you expect me to react?” Tan Mo pulled the room key from Sang Ye’s hand and slipped it into his own pocket. Then he added, “But you’re different… I’ve already been imagining what you’d look like stripped bare…”

Sang Ye’s face flushed crimson. Outwardly, he put on a chaste act, “You’re not allowed to think that!”—yet his hand was already reaching out to press the button for the upper floors.

The room was on the top floor.

But before he could act on his restless impulse, Tan Mo grabbed his hand.

“Staying out tonight instead of going back?”

“Yeah.”

Tan Mo asked, “Just to sleep?”

Sang Ye bit his lip, frustrated that Tan Mo insisted on making him say it out loud. Defeated, he lowered himself from tiptoe and muttered, “Just to sleep!”

Tan Mo pulled his hand back.

The elevator was about to stop when Sang Ye panicked. “What’s wrong with staying out? You—”

As the doors opened, Tan Mo wrapped an arm around Sang Ye’s shoulder, guiding him inside. He pressed the button for the first floor and asked, “Did you buy the necessary tools for the crime?”

Sang Ye froze, taking a moment to process.

Right. He forgot.

Silence finally settled between them. His face flushed red, so much so that he could hardly lift his head.

After a long pause, he mumbled, “You can go buy them yourself… I can wait upstairs…”

“Oh? So I’m the one putting in all the effort tonight, and now I have to run errands too?” Tan Mo shot him a cool glance. “Even the most ruthless bosses wouldn’t exploit their workers like this.”

Sang Ye completely shut up.

…

Tan Mo and Sang Ye passed through a bustling intersection, where a crowd of people gathered by the roadside, waiting for the traffic light to change.

Tonight, the city was bathed in dazzling lights, with vibrant hues illuminating the streets and shopping centers. On the pedestrian walkway, people’s faces carried a sense of ease and joy, filled with anticipation for the new year ahead.

Sang Ye absorbed the festive atmosphere, feeling a warmth of happiness and contentment. But above all else, the real source of his joy was the person walking beside him.

Once an idol he admired from afar, now his boyfriend—the person he had fallen for, and who had fallen for him in return.

Perhaps both were eager to reach their destination, as their pace was noticeably brisk.

As they walked, Tan Mo casually draped an arm over Sang Ye’s shoulder. Then, as they passed a street corner, he suddenly leaned down, curved his back, and tilted his head—capturing Sang Ye’s lips in a kiss.

…

As Tan Mo waited at the convenience store counter for the cashier to scan his items, Sang Ye stood far away, near the magazine rack by the door. With his back turned toward Tan Mo, he pretended to flip through a magazine, acting as if he had nothing to do with him.

Tan Mo walked over, wrapped an arm around Sang Ye’s neck, and dragged him back to the counter.

“What are you doing…” Sang Ye weakly slapped at the arm restraining him, his face completely flushed. He didn’t dare make too much of a fuss, afraid of attracting attention.

Even Tan Mo’s usually composed face carried a faint blush—it was clear he wasn’t entirely comfortable either. After all, this was his first time buying adult products, and he didn’t want to face it alone.

He pulled out his phone to scan the payment code. The young female cashier had already glanced back and forth between the two of them no fewer than ten times.

She tore off the receipt, held it out with both hands, and suddenly said, “God Tan, Fortune, Happy New Year.”

“…………”

Both Tan Mo and Sang Ye looked up at her at the same time.

Aside from her flushed face, the young girl’s expression remained relatively composed.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, all three of them turned their eyes toward the counter, where the yet-to-be-bagged items sat: purple-packaged condoms and a bottle of lubricant.

The scene fell into an indescribable silence.

Sang Ye rubbed his face, feeling like he might just pass out. His breath was unsteady as he weakly muttered, “Happy New Year…” before turning to flee.

But Tan Mo grabbed the back of Sang Ye’s backpack, unhurriedly unzipped it, and carefully placed the purchased items inside one by one before zipping it back up.

Then he turned to the cashier, winked, and lowered his voice. “Keep this a secret, okay?”

The girl took a deep breath, held it, then nodded seriously, “Understood.”

After watching the man and the boy walk out of the convenience store, she turned around, tilted her head back, and fanned at her eyes, unable to suppress her excitement.

IT’S REAL. It’s absolutely, undeniably, 100% REAL!!!

She just witnessed Rap buying condoms and lube together.

Which, if you round up, basically means she just witnessed them having s*x!!!

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Dreams really do come true, family!!! Best New Year’s gift ever!!!

After leaving the store, Sang Ye squatted in a corner of the street for quite a while. Only after Tan Mo coaxed him did he finally grumble and continue walking toward the hotel.

Sang Ye had booked the most luxurious suite on the top floor. As they stepped inside, rose petals were scattered all over the floor, covering the bed as well. The bathroom was already prepared—warm bathwater filled the tub, which was automatically heating at a constant temperature. A tray nearby held champagne and scented candles.

Whenever Tan Mo saw scenes like this on TV, he found them cliché. But now that he was experiencing it himself, he couldn’t help but feel deeply moved.

He recalled how Sang Ye had mentioned being broke during Christmas. Only now did he realize that Sang Ye had purchased the ring by acquiring a slot from another buyer, meaning it had cost far more than just seven million. Including the expenses for the public screen confession, the total likely neared eighteen million. He had practically emptied his entire fortune.

Tan Mo also suddenly remembered who [Qing Feng] was—the client manager of that luxury jewelry brand. Back when Tan Mo bought a ring, he had received a business card from him. He knew both the man’s English and Chinese names but hadn’t noticed that his corporate alias, printed on the back, was [Qing Feng.]

Thinking about how Sang Ye had spent two months planning everything, going to great lengths to keep it a secret, and sacrificing everything just to give him the best—Tan Mo didn’t know how to properly cherish him. At the same time, Sang Ye’s determination to make the confession a grand spectacle, as if he were a lovestruck boy craving dramatic surprises, made Tan Mo unable to hold back a laugh.

Still upset about being caught by a fan while buying condoms, Sang Ye was sulking, his mood dampened. Now, seeing Tan Mo laughing, he mistakenly thought Tan Mo was mocking the overly extravagant room decoration. Annoyed, he huffed, “What’s so funny? I’m not playing with you anymore. You can sleep on the couch!”

“I wasn’t laughing at you.” Tan Mo pulled Sang Ye back, pressing him against the wall. He kissed his flushed face repeatedly and whispered, “You put a lot of thought into this. I really like it… Let’s take a bath first. Together.”

Sang Ye’s backpack slipped to the floor. Half protesting, half yielding, he was pulled into the bathroom by Tan Mo. The door closed behind them.

The bath lasted for more than an hour. Tan Mo stepped out first, while Sang Ye, thoroughly exhausted, dragged himself out of the tub. He slipped into a black bathrobe, dried his hair until it was about 80% dry, and walked out.

In the bedroom, Tan Mo was also wearing a black bathrobe, sitting at the edge of the bed with one leg folded up as he tore open a package.

Back when they were in Berlin, they had messed around while sharing a room, but now that it was actually happening for real, Sang Ye suddenly felt like a shy newlywed bride. He perched on the edge of the bed, pulling at the hem of his bathrobe.

“Did we forget anything?” He spoke just to fill the silence.

“Yes.” Tan Mo didn’t control the strength well and his hands were full of oil. He had a strange expression for a moment and took a tissue to wipe his hands.

“What?”

“The camera.”

“…”

Sang Ye rolled up his belt and ignored him. But then, he noticed that Tan Mo had already put on the ring.

A surge of joy filled Sang Ye’s heart. Forgetting his usual restraint, he climbed onto the bed, reached for Tan Mo’s left hand, and took a closer look.

Just as he had imagined, the ring suited Tan Mo perfectly. The jade-green hue of the emerald, tinged with a hint of blue, complemented his slender, porcelain-white fingers—just looking at it was a visual delight.

As Sang Ye admired Tan Mo’s hand, Tan Mo was also admiring him.

Fresh out of the bath, the little beauty’s face was flushed red. His black bathrobe contrasted starkly against his fair skin, and the slightly open collar revealed the faint shadows above his collarbone, making the sight all the more alluring.

Tan Mo was just about to press him down.

But suddenly, Sang Ye looked up, as if remembering something. “Why did you return the ring to me at the restaurant earlier? You scared me to death—I thought you were going to take back your promise and break up with me.”

Hearing this, Tan Mo lowered his eyes, cleared his throat, and softened slightly at the thought that his moment of stubbornness had made Sang Ye uneasy. He admitted, “I didn’t get a clear look at it… just a little misunderstanding.”

Leaning in, Tan Mo intentionally pushed Sang Ye toward the bed.

But Sang Ye wasn’t going to let him brush it off so easily. He placed a hand against Tan Mo’s chest, staring at him intently.

What had Tan Mo said back then?

—“If it’s for you, then it’s yours.”

—“No need to return it.”

There was only one possibility: Tan Mo had given him a ring before. And it must have looked so similar that, at first glance, he had mistaken one for the other.

Sang Ye flipped their positions, pinning Tan Mo beneath him, his dark eyes bright and sharp. “Was it you?”

Tan Mo feigned ignorance. “What?”

“Oh, I see how it is.” Sang Ye reached out to pinch Tan Mo, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. But the light, barely-there force of his grip gave away his true emotions. “What if it got lost in the mail? What if the manager tried to return it but couldn’t find you?”

Tan Mo pressed a large hand against Sang Ye’s back, pulling him down. With a slight tilt of his head, he brought his lips right to Sang Ye’s ear. “At the time, I thought if it got lost, so be it. It’s not like I ever got a response anyway.”

A realization struck Sang Ye all at once. His face, already red, deepened in color as he turned from Tan Mo’s shoulder to meet his gaze up close. His voice softened. “You eavesdropped on me talking to Xiao Pai.”

Tan Mo smirked. “How is that eavesdropping? I was standing right at the door, plain as day… You just didn’t notice.”

It was pure sophistry.

Sang Ye scrunched up his face, thinking about how Tan Mo had liked him for so, so long—how much disappointment he must have felt when he sent the ring, and how back then, he had stubbornly pretended not to like Tan Mo. For a long time, he had been clueless and immature. The thought made his eyes well up with a slight redness as he leaned in closer.

For a while, the room fell into silence, until the faint creak of the bed yielding under weight broke it.

“The curtains…”

“No one can see.”

…

At midnight, the second round of fireworks lit up the Bund, set off especially for the crowds staying to celebrate the New Year.

As silver fireworks illuminated the sky outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the cheers of the people below drifted upwards. Tan Mo suddenly paused, reached out, and turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness. But the bursts of fireworks painted Sang Ye’s flushed, restrained expression in stark detail.

Tan Mo ran his fingers through Sang Ye’s damp bangs, pushing them back. “Happy New Year.”

Sang Ye squinted, struggling. “Happy New Year… Don’t stop…”

Tan Mo chuckled lowly.

And did as he was told.

…

By the time they woke up, it was already New Year’s Day. They only went downstairs at noon.

Tan Mo stepped out of the elevator, radiating satisfaction. One hand held Sang Ye’s backpack, while the other casually twirled his car keys. “There’s a family gathering today. Come home with me for dinner.”

Sang Ye walked a little awkwardly, like a small dog tucking its tail, looking utterly drained. “Not going.”

Tan Mo stopped in place and looked back at him. “You want me to leave you alone at the base?”

Sang Ye, from the bottom of his heart, replied, “Sounds great.”

Tan Mo waited for him to catch up and said, “I want to take you home.”

Sang Ye raised a hand to rub his eyelid, avoiding Tan Mo’s gaze as a faint blush crept onto his cheeks. “I just… don’t have the energy to deal with it.”

Tan Mo’s expression shifted as he looked at him, his voice softening. “Did I drain you dry?”

“…!” Sang Ye shoved him and strode ahead.

Tan Mo caught up and said, “Coming home with me doesn’t require any effort. Just leave everything to me.”

Sang Ye didn’t respond. After getting in the car, he curled up in his seat, tucking his hands into his sleeves.

Tan Mo reached out to feel Sang Ye’s forehead—thankfully, there was no sign of a fever.

The car started.

Tan Mo was just thinking about how to get out of the family gathering when Sang Ye mumbled, “I can’t just show up at your house empty-handed…”

Tan Mo paused for a moment before saying, “Leave it to me.”

And so, Sang Ye really did leave everything to Tan Mo. As a result, when he woke up from a nap, the car had stopped in front of an upscale residential community. Tan Mo got back in and handed him a bag of oranges—at that moment, Sang Ye realized he had been utterly deceived.

Opening the bag, he saw that the oranges were indeed fresh and plump, but—

“You’re seriously making me bring these?”

Sang Ye frowned, feeling that it wasn’t enough to show sincerity.

“My family is pretty casual,” Tan Mo said nonchalantly as he buckled his seatbelt. “If you bring something too expensive, my parents will probably hand you a cash gift of 88,888 yuan on the spot.”

“You better not be lying to me.” Sang Ye wasn’t sure if he was serious, but he couldn’t argue with him. The rest of the way, he kept looking around at the scenery in the community.

The car pulled up in front of a pair of semi-detached villas with an English-style design.

As Sang Ye walked through the yard, he noticed the swimming pool, still filled with water despite the winter, and an actual working fountain. That was when he realized Tan Mo’s family might be even wealthier than he had imagined.

At the door, Tan Mo rang the doorbell.

Sang Ye instinctively moved behind his shoulder and lowered his voice. “You don’t have a key?”

“I do.” Tan Mo turned to look at him, a little confused. “Isn’t it normal for the parents to open the door when you’re meeting them?”

“…” Sang Ye thought about it and realized it made sense.

Bringing him inside so openly like this did feel a bit abrupt.

Just then, footsteps sounded from inside the house.

Sang Ye grew nervous.

The door opened, revealing a handsome middle-aged man. Time had left its depth on him but no visible marks.

He first saw Tan Mo, then shifted his gaze to the young man standing behind him, momentarily stunned.

Tan Mo raised a hand to rub the back of his neck, stepping aside to introduce them.

“Dad, this is Sang Ye, my teammate. Also, my boyfriend. He’s not going home for New Year’s, so I brought him here to celebrate with us.”

The introduction was so natural and fluent that Sang Ye, standing beside him, felt his face heat up.

“This is my dad.” Tan Mo then looked at Sang Ye, his tone relaxed. “You can call him Uncle, or Dad—whichever you prefer.”

“…” Sang Ye’s face turned completely red, convinced that Tan Mo was messing with him.

But with a parent present, he couldn’t make any small retaliatory moves against Tan Mo.

Tan Zhengfeng punched Tan Mo on the shoulder and scolded him with a stern expression, “Watch how you talk.”

Tan Mo licked the corner of his lips and didn’t push his luck further.

Sang Ye knew Tan Zhengfeng was trying to ease the tension for him, which helped calm his nerves a little.

“Xiao Ye, don’t listen to him.” Tan Zhengfeng put on a warm smile and extended his hand to Sang Ye. “Just call me Dad.”

Sang Ye: “…………”

After entering the house, Tan Zhengfeng accepted the bag of oranges from Sang Ye, expressed his gratitude, invited him to sit on the sofa, and poured him some tea.

Tan Zhengfeng was the open-minded type of parent. His conversations didn’t feel distant or formal—he barely asked about family matters and instead focused on discussing the recent global tournament, openly praising Sang Ye.

Aside from a bit of initial shyness around an unfamiliar elder and feeling a little embarrassed from all the compliments, Sang Ye gradually relaxed. He answered every question honestly and sincerely, showing his straightforward nature.

At some point, Tan Mo found an opportunity to interject. “I’ll take him upstairs to rest. We stayed up late last night for New Year’s.”

Sang Ye quickly lowered his eyes and took a sip of tea.

“Young people shouldn’t stay up too late,” Tan Zhengfeng said disapprovingly, casting a glance at Tan Mo.

Just then, the housekeeper passed by. Tan Zhengfeng called out to her, “Prepare a guest room upstairs.”

“No need.” Tan Mo immediately turned to the housekeeper and then looked back at Tan Zhengfeng. “He’ll stay in my room.”

Tan Zhengfeng’s lips twitched slightly as he shrugged. “Alright.”

Tan Mo led Sang Ye upstairs.

It was Sang Ye’s first time in Tan Mo’s bedroom. The room was filled with books and miscellaneous items, but it didn’t feel messy at all. Instead, it carried a strong sense of a young man’s everyday life. The bed, in particular, was piled with pillows—various shapes and sizes, probably more than ten in total.

The central heating was on, but Tan Mo adjusted the temperature a few degrees higher. Then, he pulled a T-shirt from the wardrobe for Sang Ye to change into before sleeping.

As Sang Ye was about to change clothes, Tan Mo drew the curtains.

“Aunt Lu is going home this afternoon, and I need to stop by the base to pick up Tan Chunshan.” Tan Mo leaned against the windowsill and added, “I can bring you a few sets of clothes while I’m there. Just tell me where they are—anything else you need?”

Sang Ye had just lifted his sweater but lowered his arms again. “I’ll go with you.”

“Just take a nap. I might be back before you even wake up.” Tan Mo walked over and tossed the extra pillows onto a fur-covered bench. “No one will disturb you while I’m gone.”

Sang Ye was indeed exhausted, so he didn’t insist. He pulled off his sweater.

Tan Mo quickly tidied up the bed, then walked over and helped unbutton Sang Ye’s shirt. As the fabric lifted, it revealed a trail of scattered dark red marks from his collarbone down to his chest, waist, and sides—some from last night, some freshly made that morning.

Sang Ye touched one of the faint bite marks with his fingertip and muttered, “Look what you did…”

Tan Mo’s breath faltered for a second. He grabbed the T-shirt and pulled it over Sang Ye’s head. “Learn your lesson.”

Always teasing without a care.

Sang Ye let out a soft “mmph” as he struggled to free his small face from the loose collar, allowing Tan Mo to help him dress.

After that, he took off his pants and slipped under the covers.

Just as Tan Mo was about to leave, Sang Ye grabbed his hand, gently rubbing the ring on his finger before looking up and saying, “Bring mine over too. It’s in the third compartment of the left bedside table, inside the middle box at the very back.”

“You sure know how to hide things,” Tan Mo remarked. “Does it have a lock?”

“No.”

“…”

Sang Ye thought that being in an unfamiliar environment, he’d need to play on his phone for a while before falling asleep. But the moment he lay down, sinking into the soft mattress, his eyelids grew heavy, and within half a minute, he was fast asleep.

When he woke up again, the sky outside had darkened. He reached out for a switch and turned on a soft, warm wall lamp.

Feeling thirsty after his nap, he turned his head, only to find a ceramic cup and a thermos on the bedside table—placed there at some point without him noticing.

No need to guess—it was definitely Tan Mo who left them for him before heading out.

The ceramic cup was already filled with a third of cold water. Sang Ye mixed in some hot water and drank it in big gulps.

He then grabbed his phone to check the time—it was almost 5 PM. A low battery notification popped up right after.

“Ugh.”

That was when he realized he had forgotten to bring his charger. He should have asked Tan Mo to grab it for him.

But Tan Mo’s room should have one.

Sang Ye pulled open the bedside drawer. There weren’t many things inside, making it easy to scan. He picked up a photo frame that was lying face-down to check underneath—nothing.

Just as he was about to put it back, he caught a glimpse of a woman’s figure in the photo.

Pausing for a moment, he turned the frame over.

The photo had slightly yellowed with age, carrying the distinct texture of an old film print. It showed a woman dressed in a vintage teal-yellow skirt suit, her long hair neatly tied back in soft, voluminous waves. Her delicate chin was slightly lifted as she smiled at the camera, exuding the elegance of a 90s Hong Kong movie star.

Beside her, holding her hand, was a little boy around six or seven years old. Even at that time, he was dressed stylishly and had an air of sophistication, his doll-like features almost an exact replica of his mother’s.

Sang Ye stared at the photo for a long time, his fingers brushing over the little boy’s face through the glass. Then, he placed the frame back face down, closed the drawer, and stopped rummaging. With only 10% battery left, he focused on replying to his messages.

After a while, he heard the sound of light, eager paws tapping against the wooden stairs outside.

Lying on his side, Sang Ye turned his head just in time to see the door being pushed open. A creamy-white golden retriever had risen onto its hind legs, placing its front paws on the door handle. The next moment, with its tongue hanging out, it leaped forward, landing on the bed in a playful pounce.

Sang Ye let out a pained grunt as the dog’s paws landed heavily on his chest, nearly knocking the air out of his lungs. In retaliation, he smacked the golden retriever’s plump backside. “You little rascal, get down!”

But Tan Chunshan didn’t care in the slightest. It nudged Sang Ye with its cool, wet nose and happily licked his hand in greeting.

Tan Mo followed the dog inside, placing a travel bag on the floor—the one containing the clothes he had brought for Sang Ye.

Walking to the bed, he asked, “Did you sleep well?”

Sang Ye’s gaze flickered for a moment before he softly hummed in response.

Tan Mo patted Tan Chunshan’s head, signaling for it to get off the bed.

He couldn’t stand having dog fur all over it.

Tan Chunshan sulked, pacing around the bedside as if trying to stall for time. But after realizing it wouldn’t get away with it, it finally hopped down.

Tan Mo, on the other hand, climbed into bed himself, wrapping an arm around Sang Ye from behind. He pulled out a jewelry box, opened it, and slipped a ring onto Sang Ye’s index finger.

Now, when their fingers intertwined, the matching jade rings clicked gently against each other.

Sang Ye lowered his gaze, playing with Tan Mo’s hand as he admitted, “I was looking for a charger and saw the photo in your drawer.”

Tan Mo blinked before reaching for the photo frame in the bedside cabinet. He set it in front of them so they could look at it together. “This one?”

“Mm.”

Tan Mo was quiet for a moment before he said, “She was my mother. When I was eight, we went on a trip together and got kidnapped. They took us to a remote border area, waiting for ransom. She found an opportunity to help me escape, but while covering for me, she was shot…”

His voice abruptly cut off, and he didn’t continue.

Sang Ye’s grip on Tan Mo’s hand tightened.

Tan Mo’s family had already been incredibly wealthy since the early 90s. When wealth reaches a certain level, it becomes possible to disappear from the internet entirely—no reports, no traces. People like Tan Zhengfeng, true giants in the industry, always stayed behind the scenes, never giving the media a chance to expose them.

Yet back then, Tan Zhengfeng would receive threatening letters and ransom notes almost every month. Most were hoaxes—just another tactic to extort money from the rich. Since he had assigned security personnel to protect his wife and child, over time, he came to believe that kidnapping was something that could never truly happen to them. But in the end, it did happen—and at a devastating cost.

Sang Ye looked at the woman in the photo and said, “She’s beautiful.”

“Yes,” Tan Mo said softly. “In my memory, she’ll always be 27 years old… I miss her a lot.”

Sang Ye pressed a light kiss to the back of Tan Mo’s hand.

Tan Mo placed the photo frame back where it belonged.

Down on the floor, Tan Chunshan was restless, lying down one moment and getting up the next, circling the bed with its mouth slightly open, waiting for its two ‘fathers’ to call it up.

But no one did.

Sang Ye looked at the ring on his finger, then suddenly asked, “When do we make it public?”

Tan Mo raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” Sang Ye said.

“Then post a Weibo.” Tan Mo reached for his phone.

“…No.” Sang Ye immediately stopped him, turning around in exasperation. “There’s still the awards gala after New Year’s. How about after that?”

He didn’t care about online comments, but he also didn’t want to be bombarded with questions by the media at the annual event.

Tan Mo thought for a moment, then set his phone down. “Alright.”

From downstairs, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway reached them.

Tan Mo glanced at Sang Ye’s watch to check the time, then gave him a light smack on the rear through the blanket before getting up. “They’re almost here. Get dressed.”

Sang Ye, knowing that tonight was a family gathering and Tan Mo’s relatives would be coming over, quickly scrambled out of bed.

“How many people?” he asked.

Tan Mo grabbed a set of clothes for Sang Ye and roughly estimated, “Including my grandparents, plus my cousins… about thirty people.”

“…”

“What are you nervous about? Just follow my lead and greet them when the time comes.”

Kneeling on the bed, Sang Ye buried his head under the blanket, already struggling to breathe.

---

This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi!  (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･

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Chapter 82 – Talk I Like You.

---

NSN, having been eliminated in the Round of 16, had returned home early and was now watching the Grand Finals from their base.

At this moment, Lu Qikai stared at the screen, watching Sang Ye’s bold yet youthful smile.

But what came to mind was the first time he met Sang Ye— that cold, indifferent boy with an air of arrogance, as if he looked down on everything.

Even now, thinking about it made him want to throw a punch.

Lu Qikai leaned back, hands resting behind his head, taking a deep breath as his stomach pushed up against his team jersey.

His heart was filled with unwillingness, jealousy toward this young genius— but he had to admit, from their very first 1v1 gunfight, he had already seen the extraordinary talent in the boy’s bones.

…

An liu lay on his bed, staring blankly at the black mold stain spreading across the ceiling of his rented apartment.

Gritting his teeth, he picked up his phone and continued watching.

On the screen, Sang Ye was lifted by his teammates, scanning the entire arena—his eyes and brows filled with unrestrained arrogance and pride.

The chat was already flooded with messages screaming [“God Song!”]

No one could deny the brilliance of that final 1v4 clutch.

An liu clenched his fist and punched the bed in frustration.

Sang Ye had reached a place he would never be able to go— and it had taken him less than a year.

…

“You idi*t! You’re ten minutes late! Trying to starve me? I left a bad review! Take it back!”

With a loud slam, Liu Mingxuan’s door was shut in his face.

The delivery bag rolled to his feet.

He numbly bent down to pick it up. As he stood, his gaze drifted out the window—and there, outside the International Cinema, was a massive LED screen, half the height of a wall.

Confetti rained down on the screen.

A close-up of the white-haired boy filled the entire display.

Lights. Laughter. Youth. Dreams.

The glow from the screen reflected in Liu Mingxuan’s eyes, flickering again and again.

His lips trembled.

The numbness on his face faded—but what remained was pale and powerless.

Sang Ye had done it.

No matter what, nothing could stop him from shining.

…

The total prize money for this championship was displayed on the big screen.

Listed in US dollars, it started with a base prize of $2 million. Then, as additional earnings from the in-game store’s revenue share were added, the number kept climbing—ultimately nearing $2.5 million, equivalent to over 17 million RMB.

However, everyone knew that tournament winnings were only part of the earnings. For a championship team, the bigger financial gains would come later—from sponsorships, endorsements, and various promotional events.

Yet, none of the champions paid any attention to the prize calculation. Even Xiao Pai, who had loudly declared before the match that he wanted to win the grand prize to brag at home during the New Year, didn’t look back at the big screen when leaving the player area. Instead, his eyes were locked on the golden trophy standing proudly at center stage.

As WLG passed by the other teams’ player areas, they saw different reactions—some players sat with their heads in their hands, looking dejected, while others had red-rimmed eyes, full of regret.

One HK player, who had competed in the Grand Finals for five consecutive years, was set to retire after this match. But his final game hadn’t ended in the perfect farewell he had hoped for.

In this passionate yet unforgiving battlefield, the joy of victory belonged to one team alone—for everyone else, only regret remained.

When WLG passed by Catch22, the camera caught Fool and Xing Xing waving at them in greeting.

Someone with sharp eyes noticed this moment and commented in the live chat:

[“It’s clear that Catch22 didn’t hold back at the end—they upheld true fairness and gave their best. They honored their own efforts while showing full respect to their opponents. Their all-out battle made WLG’s victory even more convincing. Truly, they are a rival team built on both competition and camaraderie!”]

Even E Lan was pulled onto the stage to join the awards ceremony.

The five of them stood together at the podium, each grasping a corner of the trophy.

They exchanged glances—seeing excitement, pride, and the deep bond forged through years of teamwork reflected in each other’s eyes.

On the count of three.

They lifted the trophy high into the air—together.

The crowd erupted into cheers, screams, and thunderous applause that refused to die down.

Before long, the host took the stage—it was time for the championship interview.

The team lined up across the stage, ready for what came next.

The host, smiling brightly, spoke in English:

“WLG has successfully defended their championship title—an incredible achievement! Watching your journey through the Grand Finals, it was clear it wasn’t an easy road. First of all, congratulations! Talk, could you share with us the key to your team’s success?”

The team’s interpreter picked up the microphone, ready to translate.

However, Tan Mo gestured for her to stop and responded directly in Chinese:

“I wouldn’t call it a secret. One of the most important factors in winning this championship was our trust in each other. At any moment, we weren’t afraid to entrust our flanks and backs to our teammates, knowing that each of us would hold our positions. Trust has always been something we emphasize within our team. I also want to thank my teammates for their dedication and outstanding performance in this tournament.”

As the interpreter relayed his response, the host nodded approvingly at the well-spoken answer.

After the captain’s interview, the host moved down the line, making sure no one was left out.

Starting with Xiao Pai, the questions were almost all variations of:

“What’s your biggest feeling after winning the championship?”

“Are you satisfied with your performance today?”

“What was the most challenging part of the match?”

No matter how each of them responded, every answer ended with gratitude towards their teammates.

And it was obvious—this wasn’t just polite talk. They truly meant it.

WLG’s fans felt incredibly proud.

In many top esports organizations, conflicts and drama were inevitable—every now and then, scandals would break out, providing entertainment for the community.

But WLG was different. No matter what event they attended, they always displayed an unshakable sense of unity—a team with an incredible bond and atmosphere.

Finally, only Sang Ye was left.

He took the microphone.

But the moment the host looked at him, their expression subtly changed—not as formal as before. There was a hint of amusement and a knowing smile as they pointed to the ground and asked in a playful, teasing tone:

“Is your boyfriend here?”

Xiao Pai and Hu Fu were the first to crack, barely holding back their laughter as they nudged and smacked each other’s arms.

Even the interpreter pressed her lips together, clearly suppressing a smile as she lifted the microphone.

But before she could speak, Tan Mo gestured for her to stop once again.

Instead, he leaned in close, cupping a hand around Sang Ye’s ear, and translated the question for him personally: “Your boyfriend— is he on stage?”

Sang Ye’s heart skipped a beat—hard.

Why is his question different from everyone else’s?!

The livestream chat was buzzing with excitement, with viewers exclaiming that the host was amazing and deserved an extra drumstick for dinner!

Everyone eagerly awaited Sang Ye’s response. The question of whether he had a boyfriend had been tormenting CP fans for nearly a week!

On screen, the audience saw the young man listen to the question, then quickly glance at Tan Mo. His shocked little expression suggested that Tan Mo had conveyed the meaning accurately.

Then, the boy lowered his eyelashes. Starting from his ears, a faint blush gradually spread across his face. He looked up at Tan Mo again, but just as quickly averted his gaze and instead turned his eyes toward the host.

The host’s amusement deepened, and her gaze instinctively swept across the group.

She didn’t even glance at Xiao Pai or Hu Fu. She paused briefly when passing over E Lan, but in the end, she locked directly onto Tan Mo.

Sang Ye instantly tensed, hurriedly grabbing the microphone: “I…”

Two seconds passed. He pressed his lips together, frowned slightly, then lowered his head and kicked at the confetti by his feet.

He was feeling a little aggrieved from being teased.

At the right moment, Tan Mo took the microphone and tactfully told the host, “You could ask him in private.”

The host, understanding the hint, immediately dropped the gossip and said, “Ok, ok, fine, I get it.”

She then moved on to seriously discuss Sang Ye’s legendary 1v4 play.

When the interview ended and the team walked offstage, the host passed by Sang Ye, gave him a thumbs-up, and leaned in conspiratorially to whisper, “Good taste. He is so hooot!”

Sang Ye was utterly confused.

After the host walked away, he scooted closer to Tan Mo and quietly asked, “What does that mean?”

Seeing that everyone else was walking ahead, Tan Mo hooked an arm around Sang Ye’s shoulder, pulled him closer, and ruffled his soft white hair. With his lips pressed against the strands, he murmured, “She was complimenting your boyfriend’s good looks.”

Sang Ye panicked and looked up with burning eyes, protesting, “You’re lying! I never admitted you’re my boyfriend.”

Tan Mo’s gaze grew complicated.

Do you really think that little expression of yours can hide anything?

He patted Sang Ye’s head. “Just kidding.”

Sang Ye huffed, “I knew it…”

Tan Mo smirked. “I was just making myself happy.”

“…”

…

That night, after returning to the hotel from the celebration banquet, Sang Ye lay on the bed, video calling his parents and basking in their praise.

He felt elated but didn’t forget to credit the team captain’s skills and his teammates’ cooperation.

Tan Mo, needing to grab a piece of clothing from the balcony, subtly signaled to Sang Ye that he was going to pass behind him.

He might end up in the frame.

Sang Ye nodded in understanding, rolled over to lie on his back, and the camera angle shifted.

Fang Yuerong immediately noticed something and asked, “Puppy? Is your captain there?”

As Tan Mo passed the foot of the bed, he heard Sang Ye murmur a vague “Mm-hmm” before naturally steering the conversation in another direction.

Tan Mo closed the balcony door. After grabbing his clothes, he didn’t return immediately but stood outside, letting the cold wind wash over him.

He still remembered what Sang Ye had said that night when he was drunk at the barbecue stand—that if they won the championship, he would give him a clear answer. But ever since they got back, Tan Mo had been waiting, and Sang Ye hadn’t brought it up once. Just now, when he passed by, Sang Ye hadn’t even introduced him to his parents.

Lowering his gaze, Tan Mo lightly patted the railing, feeling a little not happy.

Inside the room, Sang Ye ended the video call with his parents. As he scrolled through the long list of congratulatory messages, he unexpectedly noticed a missed message from Qing Feng.

Judging by the timestamp, it had arrived during the banquet.

Qing Feng: [The requirements have been fully communicated, and delivery can be made within 25-30 business days.]

Sang Ye’s eyes lit up with a smile as he held his phone and typed a reply.

S.: [I’ll go back next week to pay the final installment.]

The response came almost instantly—true dedication to customer service.

Qing Feng: [Alright, we’ll be waiting for you.]

At that moment, Tan Mo stepped back inside from the balcony, glanced at Sang Ye, and closed the door. “Finished your chat?”

“Mm.” Sang Ye pressed his phone against his chest, tilting his head toward Tan Mo with a satisfied smile.

Something stirred in Tan Mo’s heart. He had originally intended to head straight to the bathroom, but instead, he tossed his shirt onto his bed, took a detour, and leaned over Sang Ye, one hand resting beside his pillow. In a low voice, he asked, “What’s making you smile like that?”

Sang Ye’s lips curled up, unable to hide his happiness. He shook his head. “Nothing.”

Tan Mo raised an eyebrow and moved a little closer. “You’d better tell the truth.”

Sang Ye pulled the blanket up to cover half his face, leaving only his eyes exposed—eyes brimming with laughter and warmth.

Tan Mo tugged the blanket down.

Sang Ye pulled it back up.

Tan Mo propped himself up, ready to leave.

But Sang Ye wasn’t playing fair—one hand reached out to hook him back down, while the other fumbled to set his phone beside the pillow.

While Tan Mo was indulging in the soft, sweet lips before him, his gaze accidentally flicked to the screen, catching sight of an ongoing chat with [Qing Feng.] Only the latest message was visible—

[Alright, we’ll be waiting for you.]

Tan Mo frowned slightly.

At that moment, Sang Ye turned off his phone and hooked his other hand around the back of Tan Mo’s neck.

Over the next two days, the team attended events organized by the tournament hosts. With an extra free day, they decided to go sightseeing together.

Before heading out, Xiao Pai burst into Tan Mo’s room, pleading enthusiastically, “Brother! Bring your Leica with you! It’s the perfect chance for some photos! Hurry!”

Sang Ye was in the middle of changing his shoes when his heart skipped a beat. He looked up.

Tan Mo met Sang Ye’s gaze, wiped a breadcrumb from the corner of his lips with his fingers, and said coolly to Xiao Pai, “I put it away.”

Sang Ye let out a silent breath of relief and bent back down to tie his shoelaces.

Xiao Pai asked, “Where?”

Tan Mo’s eyes swept over the stack of boxes against the wall. He took another bite of his crispy toast and replied, “Packed away… forgot which box.”

“Then go find it!”

“Too much trouble.”

“This…”

Xiao Pai scratched his head, then suddenly caught something in the corner of his eye. His expression lit up as he strode over to the nightstand, reached into a compartment, and pulled something out. “Isn’t this it?”

Tan Mo: “……”

He had forgotten to put it away after using it last night.

“No way!” Sang Ye instantly lunged at Xiao Pai, sending one of his shoes flying. He snatched the camera and tumbled onto Tan Mo’s bed, curling up tightly around it.

Xiao Pai’s hands were still frozen mid-air in a grabbing position, dumbfounded. “Why?”

Sang Ye’s face turned as red as a tomato, his voice both forceful and stubborn. “Not giving it to you!”

“Hey! Bai Mao,” Xiao Pai rolled up his sleeves, frowning. “You’re being unreasonable. Why are you guarding my bro’s camera like your life depends on it?”

“Mind your own business.” If it was about this Leica, Sang Ye was willing to sacrifice his dignity—hell, even his life.

“Give it to me!” Xiao Pai reached out to snatch it.

Sang Ye suddenly flashed his little white teeth and snapped his jaws fiercely at the air—”Awoo! Awoo!”—almost sinking them into Xiao Pai’s arm.

“Brother! Look at him!” Xiao Pai yelped, backing up two steps in both fear and frustration as he complained to Tan Mo.

Tan Mo finished his breakfast, wiped his hands with a napkin, and said to Xiao Pai, “Quit messing around. Just use your phone—the camera quality is good enough.”

“?”

Not only did Xiao Pai fail to get the camera, but his looks had also just been insulted.

Tan Mo walked over to the bed and held out his hand toward Sang Ye. “I’ll put it away.”

Sang Ye glanced cautiously toward the door before reluctantly handing over the camera, muttering under his breath, “Why didn’t you hide it better…?”

Tan Mo casually powered it on to check the contents of the memory card.

Bit by bit, the collection had grown—there were quite a few photos and videos now.

As he browsed the images, Tan Mo asked, seemingly offhandedly, “Are you planning to keep hiding this forever?”

Sang Ye clearly wasn’t paying attention. He knelt on the bed and smacked Tan Mo’s wrist. “What are you looking at? Hurry up and put it away!”

Tan Mo bit his lip lightly, then walked over to the wall and locked the camera away in a random box.

The group spent the entire day visiting several famous spots in Berlin.

Whether out of sheer mischief or revenge, every time Sang Ye tried to get a picture with Tan Mo, Xiao Pai somehow managed to squeeze in between them at just the right moment.

The only exception was a photo in front of the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church, where Sang Ye firmly pressed himself against Tan Mo, refusing to let Xiao Pai shove his way in. As a result, Xiao Pai had to settle for standing next to him and taking a group photo with the two of them.

Fuming, Sang Ye cropped Xiao Pai out of the picture the moment he got his hands on it.

At noon, the group sat at an open-air restaurant along the river for lunch.

Xiao Pai and Hu Fu went inside to place their orders.

Sang Ye seized the opportunity, dragging his chair closer to Tan Mo and requesting a photo together.

Using a cup on the table as a makeshift stand, Tan Mo set up the phone with a timer. The two of them leaned slightly toward each other.

For most people, an upward shot from a phone placed flat on the table would be the worst possible angle. But with their looks, even a shot from the ground wouldn’t be a problem.

Then came another photo. This time, just before the shutter clicked, Tan Mo turned his head and placed a quick kiss at the corner of Sang Ye’s lips.

Sang Ye’s face instantly flushed red. He quickly glanced toward the store—Xiao Pai and Hufu were still facing away, hunched over the counter picking out their meals. He reached out and poked Tan Mo’s waist. “What are you doing?”

Tan Mo picked up the phone to check the photos. “Can I post this on Weibo?”

Sang Ye looked at him in disbelief. “How would that even work?”

Tan Mo scrolled to the photo where they weren’t kissing. “This one.”

Sang Ye let out a breath of relief. “That one’s fine.”

Tan Mo hesitated for a moment before asking, “What if people in the comments start asking about our relationship?”

Sang Ye suddenly remembered—the global tournament had caused their fan base in the rap super-topic to skyrocket by nearly a million followers. Plus, the previous rumors had never been addressed, making this a particularly sensitive time.

Without hesitation, Sang Ye patted the back of Tan Mo’s hand and made a decisive call. “Then don’t post it.”

Tan Mo lowered his gaze briefly, then turned his head away and slipped his phone into his jacket pocket.

Sang Ye took out his own phone. “Send me the photos.”

Tan Mo said, “No.”

Sang Ye looked up, confused, and nudged Tan Mo. “Send them.”

Tan Mo didn’t look at him. “Not sending.”

Just as Sang Ye was about to argue, Xiao Pai and Hu Fu returned, forcing him to drop the topic for the time being.

However, later that afternoon in the car, Tan Mo took the initiative and sent the photos to Sang Ye’s phone.

After finishing their sightseeing, the group officially wrapped up their journey at the global tournament, packed their bags, and headed back home.

After enduring a sixteen-hour flight, everyone finally landed and returned to their base, which they had been away from for a month.

Sang Ye took two days to adjust to the time difference. Once he had recovered, he lay in bed one night and suddenly felt a sense of discomfort. Unconsciously, he curled up under the blanket.

He had spent nearly half a month sleeping next to Tan Mo, and he hadn’t expected to form a habit so quickly. Now, without Tan Mo’s warmth and scent in the blanket, he felt restless.

Sang Ye took out his phone and sent Tan Mo a message.

S.: [Are you asleep?]

T.: [About to sleep.]

Sang Ye typed and deleted his message several times, his face heating up. Eventually, he pressed send.

S.: [Do you want to come up and sleep?]

Downstairs, Tan Mo had just lifted the blanket, ready to get out of bed and find his clingy troublemaker, but he paused. Instead, he sent a message to confirm.

T.: [What if someone finds out?]

S.: [They won’t. I’ll wake you up early tomorrow.]

Tan Mo closed his eyes briefly before lying back down.

After all his subtle probing, Sang Ye still hadn’t given him a satisfying answer.

T.: [Not coming. Get some rest.]

S.: [Oh.]

Tan Mo pulled up his blanket and made a decision—until Sang Ye officially acknowledged their relationship, he wouldn’t sleep with him again.

After just a few days of rest, their work schedule was released.

Xiao Pai groaned in complaint. “This is way too rushed! A lot of the other teams are still on vacation.”

But Yu Haotian was full of energy. “It’s the end of the year—let’s push for those achievements!”

It wasn’t just endorsements; with the year coming to a close, the esports industry was packed with events. As the champion team, they had to take part in numerous photoshoots and interviews, making them much busier than other teams.

With that, the main squad dove into a non-stop schedule, leaving no time to think about anything else.

But Tan Mo was still waiting, wondering when Sang Ye would finally sit down and have the conversation. There were several times he almost couldn’t hold back from asking—Are we going to be together or not?

Sometimes, Tan Mo even started to doubt himself. Maybe he had misinterpreted things that night at the barbecue stall. Otherwise, why had they already won the championship, yet Sang Ye still hadn’t made a move?

However, seeing how exhausted Sang Ye was—so much so that he had to catch up on sleep even in the car—Tan Mo couldn’t bring himself to bring up personal matters and disturb him. So, the deadline in his heart kept getting pushed back again and again.

Finally, after a long stretch of events, everything came to an end.

One morning, Yu Haotian walked into the practice room and announced to everyone, “The day after tomorrow is Christmas. The club is hosting a small gathering—dinner, karaoke, that kind of thing. I’m taking a headcount. You guys should be free, right? Everyone’s coming?”

Tan Mo paused for a moment.

In China, Christmas was basically treated as Valentine’s Day—a perfect occasion for couples to go on dates.

If Sang Ye was planning to have a serious talk with him, Christmas would undoubtedly be the ideal choice.

Tan Mo curled his fingers slightly, released the mouse, and leaned back against his chair, shifting his angle to look at Sang Ye.

He had a feeling—the time had finally come.

Sang Ye was halfway through adjusting his headset while playing a game. Without even turning his head, he replied to Yu Haotian, “I’m free, I can go.”

Yu Haotian jotted it down in his notebook. “Alright.”

Tan Mo: “…”

Yu Haotian looked up. “Talk, what about you?”

Tan Mo picked up his cup, took a sip of water, then turned toward Xiao Pai. “I’m in.”

Just then, something seemed to occur to Sang Ye. He pulled down his headset and turned to Yu Haotian. “I need to take the afternoon off to go out.”

Since there were no scheduled practice matches, Yu Haotian simply said, “Okay.”

Tan Mo instinctively asked, “Do you want me to drive you?”

Sang Ye shook his head. “Thanks, but no need.”

Tan Mo rubbed his thumb against the handle of his cup before asking, “Where are you going?”

A fleeting hint of unease flashed across Sang Ye’s face. He lowered his head, put his headset back on, and replied dryly, “Just… somewhere.”

Tan Mo quietly studied Sang Ye, feeling something inside him build to a breaking point, almost reaching its limit.

Two seconds later.

Without a word, he got up, holding his cup, and walked out the door.

Tan Mo strode down the hallway, his jawline tightening for a brief moment.

Just then—

“Talk!”

A slightly hoarse, youthful voice called from behind.

Tan Mo halted his steps and turned slightly.

Sang Ye glanced back at the practice room before stepping out and walking up to him.

For some reason, Sang Ye seemed unusually nervous, making the atmosphere between them subtly distant.

“What is it?” Tan Mo looked at him.

“Just in case, I wanted to ask you in advance…” Sang Ye lifted his slightly flushed face, his dark eyes glimmering with anticipation, and his voice softened. “Are you free on the night of December 31^st?”

It was as if a small silver spoon had tapped gently against Tan Mo’s otherwise unshakable heart. In an instant, the fortified shell around it cracked apart, and his heart began beating vividly once again.

Tan Mo took half a step back, suddenly feeling inexplicably nervous. Even his voice carried a trace of unease. “Are you asking me to spend New Year’s Eve with you?”

Sang Ye nodded, murmuring a soft “Mm” as his gaze flickered away before steadying again. His face grew even redder.

Tan Mo asked, “Is everyone going?”

Sang Ye quickly replied, “No, no… just you and me.”

“I’m free…” Tan Mo swallowed, shoving one hand into his pants pocket and lowering his gaze slightly. “I’m free.”

“Good.” Sang Ye pressed his lips together in a small smile. “I’ll treat you to dinner.”

Tan Mo said, “I’ll treat you—”

“No, I will!” Sang Ye insisted, stepping backward toward the practice room. “Don’t forget. I’ll send you the address later.”

As he watched the boy’s retreating figure, Tan Mo clenched the hand in his pocket, his heartbeat still racing—he was already starting to feel nervous.

….

At the Christmas party, while they were at the KTV in the evening, Tan Mo found an opportunity to sit next to Sang Ye.

Sang Ye caught the scent of alcohol and looked up from his phone, only to see Tan Mo handing him a gift box.

The room was dimly lit, with hazy blue lights flowing around, but Sang Ye could still make out the slight flush on Tan Mo’s face from the alcohol. His lips had taken on a rich, slightly glossy red hue.

Xiao Pai was still howling in front, and the private room was unbearably noisy.

Tan Mo leaned close to Sang Ye’s ear, raising his voice to be heard. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” Sang Ye replied, then asked, “What’s this?”

“See for yourself!”

Sang Ye lowered his gaze and unwrapped the gift box, revealing a silver-faced wristwatch inside. The design was minimalist, with a slim dark red leather strap, giving it a vintage aesthetic. Holding it in his hand, he could feel its substantial weight, and the craftsmanship was impeccable, with every detail perfectly aligned.

Right then and there, Sang Ye put the watch on.

Tan Mo lowered his head to admire it, gently brushing his fingers over Sang Ye’s fair wrist, murmuring softly, “Looks good…”

Sang Ye leaned closer to his ear. “I really like it!”

Tan Mo nodded.

Just then, Jifeng took the stage to challenge Xiao Pai to a PK battle, stirring the already noisy room into an even louder frenzy.

Sang Ye said, “After the New Year, I’ll make it up to you with a Christmas gift!”

Tan Mo struggled to hear over the noise, but once he understood, he replied, “No need.”

Sang Ye insisted, “I have to!”

“Are you only thinking about giving me a return gift because I gave you one?” Tan Mo asked. “It’s not necessary.”

Sang Ye suddenly wrapped an arm around Tan Mo’s warm neck, his lips almost brushing against his ear as he murmured, “I’m broke right now!”

Tan Mo felt the damp heat against his ear, his breath hitching slightly. He struggled to ask, “Why?”

Sang Ye gazed at Tan Mo from up close, his dark eyes flickering with shyness under the blue-tinted lights.

“I’m not telling you.”

…

During the New Year’s holiday, most people at the base went home to celebrate.

However, Tan Mo had made plans with Sang Ye, so he postponed his trip home.

By the afternoon, Sang Ye had disappeared without a trace.

Tan Mo sent him a message asking where he was, and Sang Ye simply replied that he was out handling something.

“Alright.” Tan Mo expressionlessly tossed his phone aside, not bothering to check it again.

Around 4 PM, Sang Ye sent Tan Mo the restaurant address, along with a note: “Be there by 8.”

Tan Mo knew that restaurant—he had been there before. It was located by the Huangpu River inside a five-star hotel. The restaurant featured floor-to-ceiling glass walls, offering a panoramic view of the river.

It had an air of sophistication.

And it carried a faint sense of something… out of the ordinary.

Even someone as composed as Tan Mo couldn’t help but sit in his room for a while, gathering his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if Sang Ye would give him a definite answer tonight. If Sang Ye didn’t plan to, Tan Mo had already made up his mind—he wouldn’t drag things out. He’d just ask him directly.

That evening, Tan Mo drove to the restaurant. The roads were congested, so he turned on the radio.

The broadcast announced that there would be a New Year’s Eve event at the Bund, organized by the city, featuring a fireworks show. It also warned people to be mindful of overcrowding.

Tan Mo glanced at the traffic-clogged streets outside his window but didn’t register a single word of the broadcast. He had no interest in fireworks—he only cared about one thing. Would Sang Ye agree to be with him or not?

Fifteen minutes before eight, Tan Mo arrived at the restaurant.

Tall and long-legged, dressed in a fitted suit, he followed the waiter through the dining area. Along the way, he drew quite a few lingering glances.

Sang Ye was already seated, looking at the menu. When he looked up and saw Tan Mo, his dark eyes lit up.

Tan Mo sat down, studying Sang Ye for two seconds before asking, “You got a haircut?”

Sang Ye instinctively touched his head, his expression suddenly tense. “Is it that obvious?”

It was only a slight trim, but the layers were more defined, making his features appear even more striking.

Tan Mo said, “It looks great.”

“You… look at the menu.” Sang Ye, feeling embarrassed, breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his head to continue scanning the dishes.

During dinner, the tables to their left and right were unoccupied, making their side of the restaurant especially quiet. When neither of them spoke, only the soft, flowing music filled the air.

Tan Mo glanced around and remarked, “You picked a nice spot.”

Sang Ye smiled. “I think so too.”

They were on the 25^th floor, with an expansive view of the Huangpu River. As time passed, more and more people gathered along the riverbanks.

Across the river stood the Oriental Pearl Tower and a cluster of towering skyscrapers, their reflections shimmering in the water. The city lights were dazzling, and the 6,000-square-meter LED screen on the Citibank Tower displayed animated visuals along with phrases like “Welcoming the New Year.” The sight was visually stunning.

Tan Mo checked the time and said, “In three minutes, there will be a fireworks show nearby. Do you want to sit next to me?”

His seat faced the window, while Sang Ye’s back was to it.

But Sang Ye quickly waved his hand. “No, no need.”

Tan Mo didn’t insist.

Sang Ye had almost finished eating. He set down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and lowered his gaze. He remained like that for a while, holding the napkin to his lips, as if gathering his thoughts.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Tan Mo’s heart suddenly started pounding hard in his chest. He set down his glass, took a quiet, deep breath, and leaned back into his chair, trying to relax. He even shook out his slightly tense wrists.

“What’s wrong?” Tan Mo broke the silence first, his tone light with a hint of amusement.

Sang Ye put down the napkin, still looking down. “Talk, I…”

Tan Mo’s eyelid twitched violently.

Back in Berlin, he had been absolutely certain that Sang Ye would agree to be with him. But after a month of uncertainty and hesitation, now that the crucial moment had arrived, all of his previous confidence had crumbled.

Tan Mo suddenly realized that he had no idea—no certainty at all—about how Sang Ye truly felt about their relationship.

Sang Ye didn’t seem to be doing much better. He was holding his cup but hadn’t taken a sip. Trying to steady his emotions, he kept his gaze lowered, avoiding Tan Mo’s eyes. Finally, he spoke: “When you first told me you liked me, I was really surprised, but also really happy. Still, I kept hesitating. At that time, if we had just gotten together like that, it felt like… something was missing. And everything that happened afterward—I never expected any of it…” His voice grew quieter and quieter.

Tan Mo had always been clear-headed and logical, but now, he couldn’t grasp the main point at all. The only way he could judge whether this conversation was heading toward a good or bad outcome was by reading Sang Ye’s expression.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He reached up and unfastened the top button of his shirt. He hadn’t even been this nervous during competitions. Forcing himself to stay focused, he continued listening. “Mm.”

“I…” Sang Ye took a deep breath and said, “But no matter what, I owe you an answer. I think… I think…”

He bit his lip, then suddenly pulled something out of his pocket. Unable to control his strength, he placed it in front of Tan Mo with a bit too much force. His voice was strained as he said:

“I think you’re a good person!”

“…...”

Half of Tan Mo’s heart sank, and the other half turned cold. His mind snapped back into clarity as he lowered his eyes to look at the object in front of him.

It was a jewelry box, its velvet surface carrying a matte black texture.

“What is this?” Tan Mo steadied his expression. Even though he had already guessed the answer, he still picked up the box and opened it.

Inside was a jade and gold ring.

So familiar—so unmistakably familiar.

Tan Mo only glanced at it before snapping the box shut with a sharp “clap.” His chest rose and fell twice as he forced himself to stay still. Under his lowered lashes, his gaze darkened.

So all of Sang Ye’s previous affectionate and proactive gestures… they could only mean one thing—he had just been playing around, amusing himself at Tan Mo’s expense.

Tan Mo quickly composed himself, let out a self-deprecating laugh, and tossed the jewelry box back in front of Sang Ye. “It was a gift. It’s yours.”

Sang Ye looked up, utterly confused. “Huh?”

Tan Mo rested one hand on the back of a chair, bit his lip, and gave a small smile. “No need to return it.”

“Wait, no…” Sang Ye was about to explain something.

But at that moment—

A sharp, whistling “whoosh!” pierced the air outside.

Instinctively, Tan Mo turned toward the glass wall, following the sound.

A muffled boom followed, and half the sky above the Huangpu River bloomed with silver fireworks, bursting open like dandelions.

The crowd by the riverside erupted in cheers.

For a brief moment, Tan Mo’s attention was caught by the dazzling fireworks display.

But in the next second—something in his peripheral vision changed.

His gaze subtly shifted toward the Citi Tower across the river. The “Happy New Year” message on the massive 6,000-square-meter LED screen had started to change.

Letter by letter, a new message slowly began scrolling upward from the bottom.

—T

—A

—L

—K

—I

—L

—I

—K

—E

—Y

—O

—U

The sky beside the tower erupted into another grand display of fireworks.

Tan Mo remained motionless for a long time, just staring at it, the dazzling lights reflecting in his peach blossom eyes.

A full ten seconds passed before his focus shifted back to the present. As his gaze realigned, the boy’s face overlapped with the fragmented neon lights outside, gradually sharpening from a blur into clarity.

Sang Ye clutched the tablecloth tightly with both hands, then pried open the jewelry box—inside lay a custom-made ring, one he had specially reordered from a collector. He pushed it toward Tan Mo, his voice trembling slightly:

“I hope you’ll be with me… W-will you?”

Tan Mo narrowed his eyes slightly, then suddenly smiled. In that fleeting moment, tears shimmered in his eyes.

---

---

Chapter 81 – Winning The Championship.

---

Sang Ye and Tan Mo finally arrived at the players’ area.

Tan Mo’s face had regained some color, no longer looking deathly pale, but there was still a hint of weariness in his expression.

From Xiao Pai’s impression, every time Tan Mo looked like this, it was usually right before he had to step away from the game.

From the Spring Split until now, they had been competing in tournaments big and small for nearly a year. Xiao Pai had a pretty good idea of what was wrong with Tan Mo, but since Tan Mo never spoke about it, Xiao Pai—normally the loudest and most talkative one—didn’t pry.

As long as Tan Mo could still play, Xiao Pai was willing to believe that things would be fine. And with Sang Ye, their strongest support, on the team, Xiao Pai could rest easy.

On the live streaming platform, the PCL commentators’ voices were filled with excitement:

“Welcome to the final day of PGC! Everyone is on edge, eagerly awaiting the results. We hope that our region’s players can deliver outstanding performances today—leaving no regrets on the world stage!”

“Exactly! Based on the current leaderboard, WLG is in third place, behind HK and the North American powerhouse TL. WLG had a slow start on Day 1, but they really found their rhythm on Day 3. The big question is—can they maintain this momentum today? Looking at the support rate, it’s clear that expectations for WLG are sky-high!”

In the players’ area, everyone was adjusting their equipment.

Xiao Pai counted on his fingers, going over the current rankings:

“We’re still more than 40 points behind first-place HK. And the prize difference? A whopping 800,000! That means every single point is worth $20,000! One kill? That’s 150,000 RMB! No way—we have to win! Whether I get to brag in front of my relatives during New Year’s depends entirely on this match!”

Sang Ye: “Pathetic.”

“Oh, come on!” Xiao Pai fired back. “Look at this guy—our little coal mine owner, acting all high and mighty!” He perked up and added, “Since money means nothing to you, how about you give me your share of the prize if we win?”

“No.” Sang Ye pulled one side of his headset away, casually running his fingers through his hair, his face completely expressionless. “I’m saving up to buy something.”

“Tch, buy what?” Xiao Pai scoffed. “Singles’ Day sales are over.”

Sang Ye: “Then I’ll wait for Double 12. Problem?”

Xiao Pai: “…Fair enough.”

Just then, Tan Mo’s voice came through the team comms: “Are you short on money?”

Sang Ye immediately straightened up, instinctively correcting himself: “No, I’m not.”

Tan Mo replied calmly, “If you need money, ask me.”

Sang Ye’s heart skipped a beat. He nervously scrolled his mouse wheel and muttered dryly, “…I really don’t need any.”

“D*mn!” Xiao Pai exclaimed. “Brother, you’re way too generous! He can just straight-up ask you for money?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Even real brothers settle their finances properly. You two are really something else. Wait… am I thinking what I think I’m thinking? Does that mean I can ask you for money too?”

“Sure, but remember to pay it back,” Tan Mo said. “After all, you are my real brother.”

“……”

Xiao Pai hadn’t even processed what that meant when the last beam of light in the arena went dark.

The match had begun.

The first round featured a west-to-east flight path, slightly skewed north.

From the air, Xiao Pai scanned the jump spots around them, sighing for what felt like the hundredth time: “Ever since we beat HK into submission in the winners’ bracket, no one dares to contest P City anymore. This is way too comfortable.”

Hu Fu added, “It just goes to show—sometimes, knowing when to let go is the key to moving forward.”

HK had played smart, and now they were sitting in first place.

The team’s defining trait was simple: as long as they didn’t mess up in the early game, they would only get stronger as the match progressed.

After landing, Tan Mo adjusted his wrist and began marking locations on the map: “Stick to the 1-1-2 split. Xiao Pai, keep an eye on the garage. Hu Fu, hold the highest point.”

Sang Ye didn’t need instructions—he already knew what to do.

At the one-minute mark, the first safe zone appeared, centering around Y City, with P City left outside the circle.

For WLG, this was a less-than-ideal zone, as crossing into the next phase would likely result in losses along the way.

Hu Fu, positioned at the top floor of the church, peered through his high-powered scope, watching the convoys snaking through the hills. He clicked his tongue. “They clipped the edge of the circle just right. The west and south sides are packed—things are about to get messy… Should we push into Y City?”

While picking up attachments from the ground, Tan Mo smoothly avoided a window and responded, his mental map of the terrain already forming a relocation path: “We’ll play edge—head for K City.”

Xiao Pai was stunned. “That’s insane.”

K City was in the far northeast of the map. Getting there meant crossing bridges, traversing mountains, and constantly seeking weak spots to break through.

“We’re gambling on a hard shift,” Tan Mo said.

Sang Ye finished looting and linked up with Xiao Pai. The two split their vehicles and supplies, then set off to pick up Tan Mo and Hu Fu.

At the two-minute mark, WLG began rotating northeast.

One of the commentators, Commentator A, analyzed the situation: “WLG is moving quickly this round, opting for a deep weak-side rotation. But first, they’ll have to pass the Bridgehead Four Houses. The Thai team is sharp—they’ve already set up a two-man ambush there. The question is, will WLG catch on?”

At the front of the convoy, Tan Mo was driving, with Sang Ye in the passenger seat.

They were still some distance from the water bridge when they spotted a formation of vehicles on either side of the bridge.

It could have been a natural spawn point, or it might have been a deliberate blockade.

Sang Ye switched to his Kar98K, leaned out of the car window, and scoped in. “Pai, find an angle. Hu Fu, set up overwatch.”

With a series of crisp, rapid bolt-action pulls, each of Sang Ye’s shots hit a tire, disabling them one by one. As they closed the distance, he quickly switched to an SMG and unleashed a barrage of bullets at the vehicles.

If a vehicle takes enough damage, it explodes—if someone was hiding behind, they’d have no choice but to reveal themselves.

Sure enough, figures sprang out from behind the cars on both sides of the bridge.

The moment they peeked out, Hu Fu sniped the one on the left, knocking them down.

Sang Ye sprayed down the enemy on the right, then quickly coordinated to secure the kill on the left as well.

“Since we’re already here.” Tan Mo pulled the handbrake, parking precisely in position.

Sang Ye understood immediately, jumped out of the car, and rushed toward the buildings.

Tan Mo followed closely behind. The moment an enemy exposed themselves from a second-floor window, he snapped his aim up and fired two shots, forcing them back inside.

Commentator A exclaimed, “Whoa! That suppressive fire!”

Commentator B added, “No matter how many times I see Song trusting Tan God with his back, it still gets me. This is the kind of trust only esports teammates understand.”

The chat exploded in protest:

[“You don’t get it! This is lover’s trust!!!”]

Meanwhile, the elimination feed popped up in the top right—Sang Ye had already cleared two enemies inside the building.

WLG secured another wave of loot and continued on their way.

At the five-minute mark, the zone started shrinking.

As the chaotic gunfire from the southwest filled the air, WLG was still on the move.

Backstage, in the players’ lounge…

Yu Haotian stared at the mini-map feed displayed by the director, his eyes locked on the four icons representing WLG. “Where are they headed?” he asked.

The coach glanced at the screen and immediately understood. “They’re going for the most extreme position in the zone. Tan Mo is predicting a hard shift to the edge.”

Yu Haotian quickly followed up, “And is he right?”

“It depends on probability,” the coach replied. “But even if he’s wrong, that position allows them to avoid most of the teams’ rotation paths and play for placement points.”

“The zone is about to shrink!” Yu Haotian swallowed nervously, watching the countdown on the screen.

Three.

Two.

One.

The zone continued shrinking toward the upper right, centering on Holy Mountain, with its edge clipping K City.

“Beautiful!” Yu Haotian exclaimed excitedly.

The map showed that WLG had just arrived in K City. After an intense firefight, they eliminated the previous occupants and took control of the compound.

As the third zone shifted further upward, the safe area moved slightly above Holy Mountain, while K City, situated by the coast, remained right on the edge of the zone’s cut-off line.

At this point, several teams began eyeing K City, realizing that this might be an edge-shifted zone.

Commentator A: “Two teams are trying to rotate from the east—they still think they have a shot at taking K City.”

Commentator B: “Too late. WLG has already set up. These two teams missed their window. Now, just getting past the entrance is going to be a problem.”

Commentator A: “That’s why Talk has always been a fearless yet precise player. He made a decision about the zone almost immediately after the match began. WLG really lives up to its reputation as the macro-strategy kings of the PCL region.”

A full-scale fight erupted in K City. Smoke grenades of various colors were tossed chaotically, blanketing the area in thick fog.

WLG not only held their ground but also used the cover of the buildings to eliminate five opponents, securing a huge loot boost.

Although K City remained on the edge of the zone throughout, they survived all the way to the final circle.

In the last plank-circle shift, the town finally got cut out of the safe zone.

However, WLG was still fully intact, with every position covered and firepower ready to support each other.

With no surprises, they secured the chicken dinner.

There wasn’t much time for a break.

Tan Mo quickly pointed out a few key adjustments to his teammates as the stage lights gradually dimmed.

Everyone took their positions.

Just as Tan Mo was about to grab his headset, a warm hand suddenly pressed against the back of his own.

He lowered his gaze, concealing a smile behind his long lashes, and in response, gently squeezed the soft palm in return.

I’m fine. No need to worry.

Game 2 Begins.

The first zone appeared just outside P City. WLG wasn’t in a rush to rotate in, but they needed to gatekeep teams with overlapping paths—otherwise, they would be the ones getting countered.

Unexpectedly, their first fight was against BTF.

With only 30 seconds before the zone shrank, neither side wanted a prolonged standoff. Both teams instinctively decided to go all-in for a fast fight.

Tan Mo and Sang Ye positioned themselves at the staircase in the first-floor lobby, their ears catching the sound of footsteps just outside the door.

Sang Ye pressed himself against the wall.

Tan Mo tilted his head slightly and aimed down his sights.

The moment the door burst open, Tan Mo fired— his first shot disrupting the lead enemy’s movement. The second shot landed on the one right behind him.

The opponent reacted swiftly, stabilizing their aim and returning fire.

But before they could gain an advantage, Tan Mo unleashed two consecutive bursts, instantly knocking them down.

System Notification: [WLG-Talk eliminated BTF-Gal with Beryl M762.]

Sang Ye took a deep breath.

The sound of a bullet hitting its mark was different from a miss.

A missed shot left a hollow, fleeting sound as the bullet cut through empty air.

But when a bullet connected, the sound became solid and powerful—a distinct impact that many described as a “hard shot.”

Just now, every single one of Tan Mo’s bullets had that deep, sharp, and decisive echo.

Back when Sang Ye only watched through a screen, he had found those shots incredibly cool and impressive. Without realizing it, he started paying attention to the ID [Talk.]

But after meeting Tan Mo, playing alongside him, and witnessing how he always eliminated enemies with minimal bullets and pinpoint accuracy, Sang Ye began to understand why he had been drawn to him in the first place.

No matter the situation, Tan Mo’s mind remained sharp—calm, composed, and unwavering. That unshakable nature gave him an undeniable personal charm.

Sang Ye knew this wasn’t the time to get distracted. He quickly finished off the last enemy, looted their bullets and med kits, and then regrouped with his teammates to rotate along the edge of the zone.

Match Standings After This Round:

WLG closed the gap with TL, now trailing by just 3 points.

They were still 21 points behind first-place HK.

Game 3: WLG finally surpassed TL, climbing to second place.

Game 4:

WLG secured a Chicken Dinner!

But HK remained far ahead, still leading by 15 points.

With the final round approaching, the tension among PCL fans reached its peak. During the break, online discussions became heated.

Some believed the standings were set in stone—others thought anything was possible.

[“If HK scores zero this game, WLG still needs high kills + a Chicken Dinner. Three wins out of five? And back-to-back? Impossible. The probability alone says no.”]

[“Agreed. If they win this, it would be absurd. PCL should just try again next year. HK is still dominating.”]

[“Wasn’t last year’s global championship even tougher? Everyone bet on the European teams—did anyone take WLG seriously? But in the end, they fought their way through and took the title.”]

[“Stop overhyping. Luck doesn’t last forever.”]

[“No matter what, I still believe in Tan Shen’s words: “The battle isn’t over until it’s over.””]

[“This year, WLG has Song. Since the Summer Split, he’s been there every step of the way, helping WLG rise from their lowest point. When the team plays well, Song shines with insane performances. When they’re in a dire situation, he always delivers the strongest support. With such a powerful ‘wife fan’ on their side, what’s there to fear? Even if the team isn’t fully at ease, I feel reassured.”]

Final Game—Pre-Game Check

Through the live biometric feed, viewers could see:

Xiao Pai’s heart rate was unusually high.

Even Hu Fu, usually calm and composed, had a slightly elevated pulse.

Tan Mo? Still holding steady at 80-90 BPM.

His tone was relaxed as he asked, “It’s the last game—no matter how it goes, we’re done after this. What are we eating tonight?”

“Brother! Don’t talk about food right now!” Xiao Pai rubbed his freezing hands. “My stomach is cramping! I feel like I’m gonna puke!”

Tan Mo turned to ask, “Song, are you nervous?”

“No.” Sang Ye stared at the screen. “But I don’t feel like eating either.”

Tan Mo chuckled.

When adrenaline is surging, it’s hard to feel hungry.

The Game Begins

WLG faced two brutal zone shifts right away. The safe zone didn’t favor them at all, and as time went on, more and more teams crowded their path to the zone.

By this point, they were nearly surrounded—even if they wanted to rotate around, it was too late.

As the saying goes: the greater the expectations, the greater the disappointment. Fans watched in dismay as the safe zone kept shifting further away.

Commentator’ Reactions

Commentator A’s voice was tense. “Now we have four teams gathered in the open field. WLG is still trying to creep forward—it’s incredibly risky. If they go any farther, TL will hear them. Right now, everyone is locked in a standoff. If WLG makes a move, they could expose their backs to BTF.”

Commentator B sighed. “Yeah, there’s really nothing they can do. When you get a zone like this, it’s just bad luck. WLG has had nothing but disasters this game… What a shame.”

Inside the Game

Sang Ye felt surrounded by faint rustling noises from all directions.

He said, “I’m pushing TL. Pai, cover my back.”

Xiao Pai frowned, moving anxiously. “Go! Hu Fu and I can hold BTF off for a while.”

Sang Ye quickly reviewed all the information they had gathered so far.

He knew—this fight was everything.

HK was already safe inside the zone and guaranteed a strong placement. If WLG didn’t break through, their run at the global championship would end right here.

Sang Ye started by pulling the pin on a grenade, raising his aim slightly toward the hillside. He adjusted the trajectory left and right but hesitated to throw it when he heard no movement.

Once the first grenade exploded, both he and Tan Mo’s positions would be exposed. If his throw was off, WLG would gain nothing from it.

“Song.” Tan Mo suddenly spoke, his usually indifferent voice carrying a subtle hint of patience and reassurance. “I’m right behind you.”

Sang Ye held his breath.

At the same time, a faint rustling sound came from the left, just above him.

Without further hesitation, he pulled the pin and, relying on his instincts for distance, threw the grenade.

From the spectator’s god-view, TL was positioned in a slight depression between two slopes. Two of their players had just begun climbing to flank the other side of WLG when a grenade soared over them—smashing into the far slope.

Startled, the two TL players scattered, turning back to locate the grenade before it could detonate.

But at that moment—the grenade bounced off the reverse slope and landed right at their feet.

Boom!

Commentator A shouted: “Double kill with a single grenade!”

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Sang Ye only spared a glance at the kill feed, estimating the enemy’s situation. Wasting no time, he immediately switched to his gun, sprinted up the hill, and unleashed a fierce barrage on the first enemy in sight.

A second gunfire stream hit him, and his health plummeted.

Tan Mo was right behind him, landing three precise shots and finishing the enemy off.

“Get down.” Tan Mo ordered.

Sang Ye instantly dropped to the grass, feeling bullets whiz just above his head. He rolled aside, quickly using a med kit to restore his health.

At the moment the grenade had exploded, BTF had launched an aggressive attack.

Xiao Pai and Hu Fu took down one enemy together, but Xiao Pai got knocked by Gal, his HP deep in the red.

Tan Mo reacted swiftly, providing immediate cover.

As soon as Sang Ye’s health was restored, he stood up, threw a smoke grenade to shield Xiao Pai, and locked onto an enemy who had exposed his side while fighting Tan Mo.

He knocked him down—only then realizing it was Gal.

Meanwhile, BTF’s last player was picked off by a distant third-party team, too afraid to move in.

The chaotic gunfight on the plains finally ended—all within ten seconds.

Commentator A’s voice shot up excitedly: “Unbelievable! What a turnaround! WLG had no path forward, so they carved one out with sheer force! I almost forgot—Song’s combat ability is practically equivalent to an entire team!”

Commentator B, in awe: “This match is an instant classic. Everyone is performing at their peak. That opening grenade from Song was the key—if he hadn’t instantly eliminated two TL players, the outcome might have been completely different.”

Sang Ye went to revive Xiao Pai.

Xiao Pai, barely hanging on, gasped, “I nearly died. I swear, I almost didn’t make it…”

Sang Ye pulled him up and tossed a med kit at his feet, his voice indifferent: “Seven kills. 1.05 million in prize money.”

Xiao Pai sprang to his feet like a startled fish: “I’M BACK!”

Tan Mo, casually wrapping a bandage around his arm, glanced at Sang Ye. “Aren’t you supposed to be good at math?”

Sang Ye shrugged modestly. “Just average.”

It had taken him way too long to calculate that number.

Tan Mo smirked. “Then why couldn’t you solve for the extreme value of 2 – x – (2/3)^x?”

Sang Ye’s heart skipped a beat. “…”

Tan Mo pressed, “Are you pretending to be bad at math?”

Sang Ye’s pulse spiked. “You—Focus on the game! I’m telling the coach when we get back!”

Tan Mo chuckled softly.

Sang Ye’s ears burned red.

However, the fact that Tan Mo still had the mood to joke around meant he was in a great state, which allowed Sang Ye to breathe a sigh of relief.

Xiao Pai grumbled on the side, “Great. Now we have two cryptic speakers on the team. I have no idea what the hell they’re talking about…”

WLG had successfully survived the ordeal. They turned what was supposed to be a disadvantaged position into a stronghold, securing a large number of kills along the way. In short, it was a huge win.

From there, everything went smoothly as they advanced into the final circle.

The names of the last four remaining teams and their surviving players appeared at the top of the screen.

Norway’s solo survivor was quickly eliminated by HK within two seconds.

Now, it was down to three teams: WLG with a full squad, HK with a full squad, and Catch22 with three players.

Everyone was in good condition, but no one dared to make a move. A full-on fight would mean exposing themselves to attack, and no one wanted to be the first target.

As the final moment approached, the tension reached a breaking point—spectators in the arena, viewers in front of their screens, and even the staff in the backstage lounges all held their breath.

Yu Haotian clenched his hands so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his eyes locked on the screen.

Since two PCL-region teams had made it to the final circle, the live chat exploded with comments, the online audience getting heated.

[“What are you waiting for?! Where’s the teamwork?! WLG and Catch22 should be ganging up on HK! Aren’t you two supposed to be brother teams?!”]

[“It’s the final match! Catch22, I’m begging you, be human for once! If WLG wins this round, they’ll overtake HK in points! Otherwise, no matter who else wins, HK is taking the championship!”]

[“Come on, PCL teams! Stop hesitating! I’m losing my mind here! Catch22 isn’t seriously thinking about attacking WLG, are they?!”]

[“People telling WLG and Catch22 to team up—do you hear yourselves? If they actually do that, how would they be any different from that certain national team at the 2019 Invitational? You all flamed them back then, but now it’s fine just because it benefits your team? Hypocrites.”]

[“…”]

Just then, the dreaded “Plank Bridge” circle appeared.

Fate was still not on WLG’s side.

They were the only team outside the white zone, forcing them into an awkward position where they had no choice but to move.

The worst part?

To enter the safe zone, WLG had to pass directly under Catch22’s watch. Fighting from low ground to high ground at such a disadvantageous angle was practically a death sentence.

Commentator A let out a heavy sigh: “This zone has made the decision for all three teams. If a fight is going to break out, it has to start between Catch22 and WLG first.”

10 seconds left before the zone starts shrinking.

Sang Ye was the first to jump into the driver’s seat. “Three of us will rush in by car. Huf, stay back and cover us with your gun.”

It was almost certain they’d get shredded. There was a good chance none of them would survive. But right now, this was their only option.

Tan Mo said, “I’ll drive.”

Sang Ye hesitated.

The driver couldn’t fight back and would be completely exposed to Catch22’s gunfire. If the teammates in the car failed to suppress the enemy, the driver would be the first to go down.

But Tan Mo had to be the last one standing.

Sang Ye said, “You can’t—”

“I’ll do it.” Tan Mo insisted. “Xiao Pai, cover me.”

In that moment, Sang Ye understood. Tan Mo wanted to protect him until the very end.

If Sang Ye wasn’t driving, that meant he was the one they were trying to keep alive.

He stepped out of the car, but a wave of fear and pressure surged through him. Even his hands trembled slightly as he picked up the gear his teammates had dropped for him.

If he ended up being the last one standing…

Then all hope would rest on him—in a fight that looked completely unwinnable.

Everyone knew the odds were stacked against them. No one would blame him if he failed.

But still…

Finally, Sang Ye spoke. “Talk, I…”

Tan Mo started the engine, his voice calm and reassuring. “You are a miracle. That’s why I believe in you.”

Xiao Pai jumped into the passenger seat. “Bai Mao, I believe in you too.”

From the warehouse behind them, Hu Fu shouted, “98K fully loaded!”

Sang Ye clenched his jaw, pushed aside his doubts, and steeled himself. Then, he jumped into the back seat.

Up ahead, the three remaining Catch22 players were lying in ambush on the hillside.

One of them hesitated. “Captain, what do we do?”

“Take the shot.” Fool chambered a round with a crisp click. “Don’t miss a single bullet.”

One of the teammates hesitated. “Huh? But… they’re WLG.”

They were from the same region. They had eaten together, drank together—their relationship was more than just competitors.

Even if they were playing for national pride, it was hard not to feel the urge to help WLG just a little.

“If they’re going to win,” Fool heard the distant roar of an engine. He raised his gun and said, “Then they have to win clean.”

No one spoke after that.

A championship won through cheating wasn’t glory—it was disgrace.

And that stain would never be erased.

Xing Xing lay prone, aligning his eyes with his 8x scope. He sounded thrilled. “Then can I aim for Song’s head? He killed me in the summer tournament.”

Fool smiled. “Then you’d better give it your best shot.”

WLG entered the kill zone.

From the high ground, a relentless, merciless rain of gunfire opened up.

Xiao Pai ignored everything and leaned out the window. His hands were on fire—his very first shot cracked open a Catch22 player’s level-two helmet.

Huf, from a distant vantage point, fired a covering shot.

Xing Xing knocked Xiao Pai out of the car.

Tan Mo slammed the accelerator. Just as his health dropped to the brink of zero, he yanked the steering wheel for a hard drift.

Sang Ye seized the moment, jumped from the car, and tumbled onto the ground.

Tan Mo switched weapons and, through the car window, took down Xing Xing— only to be eliminated by Fool, who had been watching him the entire time.

Sang Ye knocked Fool down at the same time, but Hu Fu was also taken out by Fool’s shot.

Xing Xing let out a frustrated sigh. “Ugh! I didn’t even see him!”

Fool leaned back in his chair and smiled without a word.

After an intense team fight that had the crowd screaming, the two PCL teams went for a three-for-three trade, leaving only Sang Ye and Hu Fu, who was still crawling forward, inch by inch.

But Sang Ye had no time to breathe. With his gun raised, he sprinted straight toward HK.

HK launched their final assault.

Commentator A lost his mind, clutching his head as he shouted, “No way! No way! A 1v4 against these monsters?! Wu De is still alive! How is he supposed to win this?!”

Tan Mo and Xiao Pai, already eliminated, had switched to Sang Ye’s perspective, scanning for threats.

Tan Mo remained calm and steady. “Throw a flash to the left to buy time, then shoot.”

Xiao Pai’s voice went sharp. “Right side of the hill! Right side!”

Sang Ye threw a flashbang, then landed three solid shots on the right. He didn’t even have time to check the kill feed. His screen flared green as he dove under a car, clipping the leg of the flashed enemy before quickly standing back up, fingers tapping furiously on the mouse.

At last, Hu Fu, with his last sliver of health, crawled close enough to spot an approaching enemy. Desperate, he yelled out a final call. “Left flank! Incoming!”

Sang Ye dodged behind the hood of a car, tossed a grenade, and barely avoided a deadly line of fire.

Hu Fu was eliminated.

Now, the entire team’s perspective was locked onto Sang Ye.

Tan Mo: “Stay calm. You can still win this.”

Hu Fu: “Grenade softened one up!”

Xiao Pai: “Bai Mao, GO!”

Sang Ye wasn’t fighting alone. Every muscle in his arm tensed as he pulled off an insane flick shot.

Xiao Pai was practically hovering off his seat, eyes wide, brain completely shutting down. His breathing was uneven, his voice rising with every word: “GO GO GO GO GO!!! BAI MAO, CHARGE!!! GO—!! … F*!!!”**

Xiao Pai slammed the desk and jumped up.

On the screen, [Winner Winner] appeared in bold letters.

The entire venue exploded into deafening cheers.

Sang Ye opened his mouth—finally sucking in his first breath since he’d started fighting HK.

Only when a sudden wave of dizziness crashed over him did he realize—he had forgotten to breathe for the entire last 15 seconds of the final battle.

Backstage in the WLG lounge, the coach and manager shot to their feet at the exact same time.
These two men, whose combined age was nearly sixty, abandoned all composure and sprinted for the door.

Even in the hallway, the excited voices of foreign commentators boomed from the front stage.

—”Congratulations on WLG wins the top prize!”

Amidst the blur of English words, Sang Ye clearly heard one thing—

“WLG.”

He swallowed hard.

Then, his headset was removed, and a pair of strong arms lifted him off the ground.

On the screen, the commentator’s voice was filled with emotion: “The final victory belongs to Song, belongs to WLG! This eighteen-year-old has performed miracle after miracle, leaving the world in awe!”

Fang Yuerong sat in her living room, watching the massive projection screen as Tan Mo held Sang Ye in his arms. His head drooped slightly, his expression so calm that when he finally looked up, he seemed a little dazed.

Fang Yuerong clapped her hands excitedly, shouting over and over: “Puppy? Puppy! Puppy…!”

As if she could wake Sang Ye up by sheer force of will.

It took a long moment before his feet touched the ground again. He rubbed his face.

Surrounded by his teammates, he leaned forward, glancing at the big screen displaying the final rankings.

He understood.

His eyes blinked with a hint of a smile.

Then, Xiao Pai and Hu Fu grabbed him by the arms, one on each side.

When he faced the camera again, his smile was completely unrestrained.

Amidst the overwhelming flood of excited messages and cheers, one simple comment quietly scrolled past:

[“So good. He really looks so confident.”]

---

---

Chapter 80 – I’m Always Here.

---

The person on the other end also cleared their throat. When she spoke, her pronunciation was as crisp and articulate as a news anchor’s: “Hello, Xiao Tan.”

Tan Mo was caught off guard.

He still remembered the note inside the pea pastry box—Be good to my son and Or I’ll chop you up with a knife.

Yet, the voice he was hearing now was completely different from the terrifying image he had conjured of a woman wielding a cleaver. Instead, she sounded educated, well-mannered, and even good-natured.

The tension in Tan Mo’s back muscles slowly eased. Without realizing it, he brushed his lips lightly against Sang Ye’s shoulder—just to calm himself down.

Not bad.

Sang Ye’s mom wasn’t as intimidating as he had imagined.

But then—

A voice from the speaker:

“So, may I ask, exactly where are you lying down right now?”

“……”

Sang Ye bolted out of bed.

Tan Mo held the phone, originally lying on the bed with one arm covering his eyes. As he listened, he slowly tilted his head back in despair, then eventually sat up against the headboard before slumping forward onto his knees.

Fang Yuerong’s voice was gentle, but her words were sharp—almost as if she were wielding a knife.

Under the relentless onslaught from the other end, Tan Mo could only manage occasional responses: “Mm,” “Yes,” “Understood,” “Got it,” “It won’t happen again.”

Finally, with a stern warning—”Until your relationship is confirmed, you are forbidden from sharing a bed with my son!”—the call ended on both sides.

Tan Mo raised a hand to rub his eyelids, looking somewhat drained.

As the voice call interface disappeared, his expression suddenly turned quiet upon seeing the chat screen.

Five seconds later.

He tapped the top-left corner of the screen to exit.

In Sang Ye’s WeChat list, Tan Mo’s chat was still pinned at the top. Below it were messages from frequently contacted family and friends, along with various group chats.

Tan Mo scrolled down slightly and finally spotted a chat labeled [Qing Feng.] Without opening it, he could only see the words [Voice Call.]

Just as he was about to tap on the chat, a slender, fair hand grabbed the phone from the bed before he could.

Sang Ye, now dressed in sleepwear and freshly washed up, stood beside the bed, checking his phone. “What did my mom say to you?”

Tan Mo reached out his hand. “Lend me your phone to check the files in the group chat.”

His own phone screen was cracked, making it difficult to read when there was too much text.

Sang Ye glanced at him quickly, then handed over the phone before asking again, “What did my mom say?”

After taking the phone, Tan Mo didn’t open the group chat. Instead, he scrolled to the second page of the chat list.

The chat labeled [Qing Feng] had disappeared.

Tan Mo’s fingertips hovered for a moment before he calmly returned the phone. Then, he flopped onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow as he spoke in a muffled voice, “No sharing a bed until the relationship is confirmed.”

Sang Ye, who had already lifted the blanket and placed one foot on the bed, preparing to lie down again: “……”

Tan Mo turned his face slightly to look at Sang Ye and asked, “What do you think?”

“What?” Sang Ye met Tan Mo’s gaze, then after a moment, understood. He looked a little uneasy, lowered his head, and slipped back into his slippers. “I… I’ll go buy breakfast. You can sleep a little longer.”

Tan Mo let out a low “Mm” and buried himself back into the pillow.

He was getting impatient. He had promised not to pressure Sang Ye, but in this moment, he couldn’t help but want an answer.

Tan Mo didn’t understand what Sang Ye was still hesitating about—or waiting for. Aside from the last step, they had already done everything. They had practically admitted their relationship in an interview. To Tan Mo, coming clean was just a matter of time, wasn’t it?

But at this moment, maybe because he hadn’t received parental approval, or maybe because of that [Qing Feng] ID, an unprecedented sense of uncertainty crept into him.

Maybe Sang Ye wanted to wait until the competition was over to deal with personal matters. The tournament had already consumed enough of his focus—maybe he simply didn’t have the energy for anything else.

—That was the explanation Tan Mo gave himself.

The sound of the door closing echoed through the room—Sang Ye had already changed and left to buy breakfast.

Still lying on the bed, Tan Mo raised a hand and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

So who the hell is Qing Feng?

What exactly is Sang Ye hiding?

Tan Mo had searched online last night. It wasn’t a player ID, not a Douyin influencer, and there was almost no trace of it on the internet.

To him, the name [Qing Feng] sounded like some sleazy nightclub gigolo, and it annoyed him to no end.

Yet, at some point, a flicker of intuition struck—something about the name [Qing Feng] felt oddly familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere before.

But no matter how he chased the thought, he still had no leads.

Under the blanket, Tan Mo curled up and held his head in frustration. He regretted it.

He shouldn’t have played the gentleman last night. He should have just checked Sang Ye’s phone.

He cared.

He cared so damn much.

…

When Sang Ye returned, Tan Mo was sitting on the bed, wearing a loose cotton T-shirt and long pants, fiddling with his Leica camera.

Sang Ye stood at the doorway, hesitating for quite a while with the breakfast bag in hand.

Tan Mo looked up, water droplets still clinging to his face. “You’re back?”

Sang Ye, looking embarrassed, walked over, placed the breakfast on the bedside table, and took off his jacket. “You’re not going to watch it right in front of me, are you?”

Tan Mo replied, “We both took part in it. I can’t be the only one watching, right?”

“……”

Sang Ye took off his sweater as well and changed into a pair of sleep pants, preparing to get into bed.

But Tan Mo stopped him with a hand. “Don’t get on.”

Sang Ye frowned. “Why?”

Tan Mo: “Your mom won’t allow it.”

“……”

Ignoring him, Sang Ye stubbornly burrowed into the blankets and sat down next to Tan Mo.

“You don’t tell her, I won’t tell her.”

“Clingy little thing…” Tan Mo muttered, turning to open the nightstand drawer and pulling out two trays.

Tan Mo had mild OCD and disliked eating in bed, but Sang Ye enjoyed it, so he had compromised on this matter.

Sang Ye had brought back sandwiches and bread. He laid down some paper, placed the food on the trays, and casually picked a flavor to eat.

Tan Mo draped an arm around the back of Sang Ye’s neck, holding the camera with both hands as he operated it, playing last night’s video.

“……” Sang Ye choked, nearly spitting out bread crumbs. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his hand and turned to look at Tan Mo. “Can you not watch this right now?”

“Now’s the perfect time.” Tan Mo kept his eyes on the camera, rubbing Sang Ye’s fluffy white hair in a soothing gesture as he said flatly, “What’s there to be shy about? It’s just some teasing. It’s not like we actually—”

“Fine, fine! Watch it, just stop talking!” Sang Ye hurriedly interrupted.

Tan Mo ruffled his hair again. “So hard to please.”

The video played, filling the room with subtle, ambiguous sounds of water. As they talked, their voices were quieter, carrying a tone different from usual. Some things Sang Ye had completely forgotten he’d even said, and now, hearing them in broad daylight made him want to bury himself alive.

What surprised him even more was how, from a third-person perspective, he didn’t look as resistant as he had imagined. He was even… smiling while looking up at Tan Mo.

Tan Mo remained silent, the hand wrapped around Sang Ye’s neck slowly slipping down, slipping beneath the loose collar of his shirt.

Sang Ye’s chewing slowed. His gaze became unfocused as he stared at the camera screen, fingers unconsciously pushing crumbs into his mouth before absentmindedly licking the tips.

For a long moment, the video’s audio fell into silence. Neither of them spoke.

Then, suddenly, a sharp, strained gasp cut through the air, like a string pulled too tight and trembling under tension.

Sang Ye’s breath hitched—then grew rapid.

Noticing his reaction, Tan Mo lowered his eyes.

At that moment, Sang Ye lifted his gaze to look at him, his pupils shimmering with moisture. His flushed face was filled with restless agitation.

Tan Mo sighed softly in his heart, withdrawing his hand from Sang Ye’s collar. He cupped the boy’s face, turning it toward him, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, whispering, “You sound beautiful when you call out like that.”

Then, he turned off the camera, picked up the remote, and switched on the TV.

“Want to watch the replay of last night’s match?”

“…Oh.”

Sang Ye knew that if they kept watching the video, things would escalate. He adjusted his position, leaning against the pillows, and continued eating breakfast, his face still flushed.

The whole day was free, so the two of them lounged in the room, practically growing roots in the bed. When they got tired of watching TV, they napped. When they woke up, Sang Ye would drape himself over Tan Mo, his eyes curving into crescent moons as he whispered little nothings.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a warm glow. Tan Mo took Sang Ye’s hand, watching how the light danced over his soft, fair fingertips. Then, shifting his gaze to Sang Ye, he saw how the white-haired boy’s sharp little chin and pure black eyes shone when he smiled—so bright and untainted, like a child, or perhaps a small, fluffy dog.

Tan Mo interlocked their fingers and brought Sang Ye’s hand to his lips, momentarily pushing thoughts of [Qing Feng] to the back of his mind.

He would trust Sang Ye unconditionally, just as Sang Ye had given him unconditional admiration.

—

By late afternoon, Tan Mo was called away by his coach. Not wanting to be alone in the room, Sang Ye tidied up a bit and left with him.

After dinner, they parted ways.

When Sang Ye arrived at the practice room, he found Xiao Pai and the others all there.

He paused for a moment, then walked over to his computer. “There aren’t any scrims today, right?”

Xiao Pai, busy typing on his phone, responded, “Yeah, but there’s nothing else to do in the room anyway… Speaking of which, I didn’t see you all day. You were in the room, right? Weren’t you bored?”

“…” Sang Ye pretended not to hear and turned on his computer.

Bored? Not at all.

Teams that had already advanced could take a short break today, but over at the Mercedes-Benz Arena, the competition was still fierce as teams fought for the last eight spots.

Sang Ye pulled up a live stream and saw Catch22 and HK leading the pack.

However, NSN was struggling—not only was the circle unfavorable for them, but several of their decision-making moments had been shaky.

Sang Ye had a feeling—NSN was running out of steam.

And sure enough, in the final day of survival matches, NSN failed to seize their last opportunity and fell short of reaching the grand finals.

Xiao Pai watched anxiously. Though he despised the NSN club, one of his good friends, Shine, was on the team. A long time ago, they had made a promise: even if they weren’t on the same team, they would meet each other on the global stage.

That night, just as Nuo Nuo called him for a voice chat, Xiao Pai, for the first time, rejected his beloved Sister Nuo Nuo and called Shine instead.

He spent two hours on the freezing cold balcony talking on the phone. Through the closed balcony door, bits and pieces of his conversation could be heard.

“…Xia Zhiyan, pull yourself together. You’re still young, there will be plenty of chances in the future…”

“I’m not nervous. Tan Shen is about to play, and we’ve got that insanely good little white-haired guy. With the two of them here… You wouldn’t understand that feeling—it’s so reassuring…”

“Yeah, we can win. WLG has never known defeat. This time, we’re going to take the victory beautifully.”

With that, the top sixteen teams for the global finals were officially determined. Two teams from PCL had advanced. Over the next four days, they would fight with everything they had, aiming for the highest podium.

—

Day One of the Finals Begins.

The team doctor was also riding in the car with them.

Sang Ye glanced back at the doctor, then looked forward again. He sat upright for a while before lowering his gaze and softly asking, “Do you still need me?”

Tan Mo was momentarily startled and turned to look at him. “What?”

Sang Ye scratched at the corner of his eye, his fair cheeks tinged with a faint red. “Now that the team doctor is here… do you still need me?”

Tan Mo’s eyes flickered slightly. Seizing the moment when no one was paying attention, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Sang Ye’s cheek, whispering, “Always. Forever.”

…

As they entered the final stage, the esports arena seemed grander than ever.

When Tan Mo stepped into the entrance tunnel, a spotlight hit his eyes. The burning sensation brushed over his eyelids, leaving behind nothing but a vast expanse of blackness in his vision.

Inside the Mercedes-Benz Arena, the outlines of the audience seating loomed in shadowy waves.

Suddenly, a spasm seized Tan Mo’s wrist, cramping involuntarily. His chest tightened as if a boulder had crashed down on it, throwing his breathing into disarray.

He lowered his head, shook out his wrist, and forced himself to regain control—making sure no one around him noticed anything was wrong.

…

On Day One of the Finals, WLG finished in the middle of the pack—no major mistakes, but nothing particularly spectacular either. Their performance was stable and unremarkable.

After the final match ended, everyone took off their headsets.

Suddenly, the promo video started playing, and the entire venue erupted with the deafening sounds of gunfire and explosions.

Almost the instant the sound blasted through the speakers, Sang Ye reacted instinctively—turning sideways without a second thought and immediately reaching out to cover Tan Mo’s ears.

At that precise moment, the camera panned across them, capturing the man and the boy facing each other at an intimate distance.

Tan Mo’s face was pale, his eyelashes lowered. After half a second, he lifted his gaze and stared straight at Sang Ye—a look that made the entire livestream audience hold their breath in an instant.

Then, Tan Mo raised a hand, grasping the slender wrist of the boy in front of him, and turned his face slightly toward Sang Ye’s palm.

The livestream exploded in excitement, with fans shouting their ship name in unison.

Many of them clearly saw it—Tan Mo had hidden a kiss in Sang Ye’s palm.

However, the officials still gave no response to the moment.

…

Day Two

WLG continued to climb steadily, keeping right on the heels of the leading teams.

…

Day Three

WLG seemed to have found their rhythm, surpassing BTF, who had been holding the third-place position, and securing a spot in the top three.

However, this was also the most grueling phase of the tournament.

Looking at the scores, with a little more effort, they had a real shot at winning the championship—but there was no absolute advantage.

Because everyone would be fighting with everything they had in the final stretch, even a single mistake on the fourth day could cost them the championship.

Even Xiao Pai, who was known for having nerves of steel, sat silently with his earphones in on the team bus that day, saying nothing.

—

Day Four – The Final Battle

As Tan Mo stepped through the security door leading to the stage, he could hear the thundering music and the roaring cheers of the crowd.

Yet, his steps felt heavier and heavier.

The floor beneath him seemed to sink and soften, as if it would collapse underfoot.

Just before he reached the stairs leading up to the stage, Tan Mo suddenly stopped.

He reached out and grabbed Sang Ye’s hand.

Sang Ye turned back, confused. “What’s wrong?”

Tan Mo lifted his head.

Even in the dim lighting, it was clear—his face had lost all color.

A sudden hollowness struck Sang Ye’s heart.

…

There was no time to turn back.

By the side of the stage, a pillar jutted out—and Tan Mo pressed Sang Ye against it, desperately taking in his scent.

The air was filled with deafening noise, and overhead, spotlights swept wildly across the stage. Yet, every time the light approached this corner, it barely skimmed past the pillar, narrowly missing them.

Finally, Sang Ye could feel the tension ease in the muscles of the man beneath his palms—Tan Mo was calming down.

Only then did Sang Ye slowly exhale in relief.

They pulled apart slightly, both of their faces flushed unnaturally red.

Tan Mo lowered his head, his long lashes trembling. His voice was husky and unsteady—a barely audible murmur: “Song… I’m scared…”

Sang Ye steadied his breathing, his fingers tightening around the nape of Tan Mo’s neck, pulling him closer.

His gaze was clear and unwavering as he locked eyes with him.

“I’m right here. I always will be. I will protect you—forever.”

To be your armor—your only safe haven.

---

This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi!  (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･

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Chapter 79 – Hello, Auntie.

---

Sang Ye’s downward smile made the official live stream explode instantly, reaching a peak in bullet comments.

[“What? What’s going on?! When the host asked about a boyfriend, what was that ambiguous, knowing smile between Song and the host?!”]

[“OMG! That’s basically a confirmation, right?! When asked if he had a girlfriend, Song denied it outright, but when asked about a boyfriend, he just smiled without saying a word. I’m freaking out! Song baby has a boyfriend!!!”]

[“@Talk@Talk@Talk@Talk@Talk@Talk@Talk”]

[“Wuwuwu, he really is a little puppy—he can’t even lie with his eyes. Song probably doesn’t want to publicly announce having a boyfriend, but when the host asked, he also didn’t want to hide it, so he just stayed silent.”]

[“Did the “Talk x Song” ship sink? D*mn, Tan Mo is probably crying in the bathroom. I always felt he secretly liked Song; otherwise, he wouldn’t have acted so flirty that one time Song did a cross-dressing livestream.”]

[“Isn’t it possible that Tan Shen is the boyfriend? I just got chills.”]

[“So… that forum post Tan Mo replied to the other day, the one about a boyfriend being like a clingy poodle—was that about Song?”]

[“Please, Song baby, just make it official already! I’m still carrying the “Talk x Song” ship on my back!”]

Sang Ye’s Weibo, Tan Mo’s Weibo, and even WLG’s official account were all blowing up. Even the other team members were getting tagged non-stop, with fans trying to dig up clues about Sang Ye’s supposed boyfriend.

On the TV, Sang Ye’s interview had just ended.

Xiao Pai sat in the lounge scrolling through Weibo messages, looking speechless. “CP fans are way too intense. Just because Bai Mao smiled, now he has a boyfriend? How come I didn’t know he had a boyfriend? That host lady asked so boldly—if it were me, I’d be shy and giggle too.”

Tan Mo glanced at Xiao Pai, then cleared his throat again, a little too deliberately. He stretched out his long legs and shifted his sitting position.

However, Xiao Pai was too focused on his phone, busy interacting with Weibo users, completely missing the intense “PAY ATTENTION TO ME” signal radiating from Tan Mo.

“……”

Invincible Esports Auntie: [I will protect Song’s smile! The boy is so sweet! ❤️]

[Gif]

The GIF showed a slow-motion replay of the interview. The host’s eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at Sang Ye. Both of them gradually broke into a knowing smile before Sang Ye finally lowered his head, avoiding eye contact.

The Weibo post had only been up for three minutes, yet it already had over 6k likes, with numbers still skyrocketing. The comment section was buzzing with all sorts of discussions. One of the top comments even tagged Xiao Pai.

“RapTalk is Real”: [@WLGPi Pai, you always claim to be inseparable from Song. So, is it true that Song has a boyfriend? Is it Tan Shen? Please, if you know something, spill a little!]

WLGPi replied to @RapTalk is Real: [That’s fake. With such intense training, where would he find time for a relationship? What, is the other person supposed to be in a fully immersive widow-mode romance? Besides, White Hair and I are both straight guys who love watching female streamers, okay?]

The reply immediately ignited a massive thread of replies.

[If you don’t know, don’t speak. Someone else, come here—@WLG_hufu.]

[Exactly, he might not have time for a relationship with others, but when it comes to the captain, that’s a different story. However intense training is, that’s exactly how intense the romance can be.]

[Stop making Song sound like you!]

Xiao Pai let out a sharp “Hey!” getting a little riled up. He rolled up his sleeves, ready for a verbal battle, and furiously tapped at his phone screen.

WLGPi replied…: [We’re on the same team. Other than sleeping and going to the bathroom, we’re together all the time. Bai Mao has been on the team for nearly a year—how could I not know his situation?]

WLGPi replied…: [My seat is literally just an aisle away from the two of them. If they talk even a little loudly, I can hear everything. How could I not know their situation?]

WLGPi replied…: [No offense to CP fans, but since you insist on taking this so seriously, I’m putting my words down right here—if Tan Shen is really Bai Mao’s boyfriend, I’ll do a livestream where I stand on my head while having diarrhea!]

“……”

That last statement was brutal, and the online chatter instantly quieted down by more than half.

However, not far away, Yu Haotian lifted his gaze from his phone, looking at Xiao Pai with a complicated and troubled expression.

Honestly, he should have stopped Xiao Pai from speaking up.

Right now, it was best if no one said anything. After all, during the Global Championship, even the smallest mistake—like a misfire—could get a player dragged online and endlessly criticized. If a rumor about the captain and a teammate being in a relationship gained traction, the team’s reputation would take a massive hit. People would start thinking the players weren’t focused, weren’t giving their all, and expectations would skyrocket. By the time they reached the finals, the team would be under immense public pressure.

The official response should be to do nothing. After all, Sang Ye hadn’t actually said anything, and this was all just speculation. If they let the rumors run their course, they would die down on their own.

But now that Xiao Pai was so eager to clear things up…

Yu Haotian put his phone away and slowly shook his head.

From now on, they’d better keep an extra pair of pants ready for this kid during his livestreams.

The words were already out—what could they do now?

Sang Ye returned to the backstage lounge.

Xiao Pai shut off his phone and, along with Hu Fu, began chanting “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh~.” Though he liked to think of himself as rational and level-headed, he was never one to miss out on the fun. If there was an opportunity to tease Sang Ye, he wouldn’t let it slip.

“What are you doing?” Sang Ye snapped at them, sounding a bit fierce, but his fair skin had already turned slightly red. He quickly stole a glance in Tan Mo’s direction, trying to be discreet.

“We’re going to eat.” Tan Mo, seemingly oblivious, stood up and said, “The place is in another district. We should head out early.”

“Let’s go! This is definitely going to be a feast. I handpicked this place!” Xiao Pai bounced up from the couch, announcing proudly, “The goddess of truffles, Safini! Lafite? Only drinking the ’82! Each person is gonna eat at least 20,000 worth, just like Tan Shen!”

Tan Mo, unfazed, shot him down coldly: “You picked it based on the price.”

“So what if I did?” Xiao Pai excitedly stuffed things into his backpack. “Don’t underestimate the power of price!”

“This place is ridiculously expensive, isn’t it?” The coach screwed the lid onto his thermos and said to Tan Mo, “I’m not going. The winners’ bracket just ended, and I still need to review today’s matches tonight. You guys go ahead—it’ll save you some money.”

“Everyone’s coming.” Tan Mo pulled the door open, then turned around and pointed at everyone in the room. “Not coming means you don’t respect me.”

“……”

Everyone stopped what they were doing.

Hu Fu looked confused. “Is this what being rich lets you do?”

“Didn’t he just complain about how expensive it was and tell me to pick another place?” Xiao Pai was even more baffled. “Now he’s insisting on treating everyone… Whatever, I’m not asking.”

Only Yu Haotian had a guess—it probably had to do with Tan Mo being in a good mood.

Under Tan Mo’s “warm hospitality,” the entire team piled into the business van sent by the restaurant. The service was top-notch, covering every detail.

Once they were seated, Sang Ye finally had time to check his phone and see how netizens were reacting on Weibo. The more he read, the more he shrank into the gap between the leather seat and the car door. Feeling hot, he pulled up the collar of his hoodie, burying half of his face, leaving only a pair of bright, watery eyes exposed.

Tan Mo was also on his phone, idly scrolling. After a moment, he lazily said, “What was that supposed to mean during your interview?”

Sang Ye’s hand trembled, and he turned to glance at the man beside him, heart racing. “It didn’t mean anything…”

Sitting in the back row, Xiao Pai was busy texting a female streamer, not even looking up as he fanned the flames. “That smile was way too suspicious. You sure you don’t actually have a boyfriend? Who is it? Since we’re all here, why don’t you tell us?”

Sang Ye grabbed a throw pillow and chucked it toward the back.

Tan Mo turned his face slightly to look at Sang Ye, flipping his phone screen toward him. “Everyone online thinks you and I have something going on. How do you expect me to respond?”

Sang Ye: “……”

From the back row: “Ohhhhhh~”

Tan Mo shifted his long legs and let them press lightly against Sang Ye’s. “I asked you a question.”

Feeling cornered, Sang Ye yanked his hoodie over his head, curled up, and turned toward the car window, mumbling, “Answer however you want…”

Tan Mo reached out and tugged on Sang Ye’s ear—just a little harder than necessary, with a hint of payback.

Sang Ye felt the pain, his mouth opening slightly, but no sound escaped.

Dinner was held at an estate, where the decorations, music, and atmosphere were perfectly set. The food was indeed excellent, made from top-tier ingredients. Still, he couldn’t see how it justified a 20,000-per-person price tag—until the wine was served. That was when Sang Ye realized that, no matter where you dined, alcohol was always the most expensive part of the bill.

The red wine had been taken directly from the cellar during the tour. When the main course arrived, the butler wrapped the bottle in a silk cloth and carefully poured just the right amount into each person’s glass. They opened two bottles in total.

Xiao Pai picked up his glass and downed half of it in one go. Smacking his lips, he frowned. “Eighty grand a bottle, and it’s just… this?”

“You have to sip it slowly.” Yu Haotian swirled his glass, looking pained. “This is like feeding fine grain to pigs.”

Xiao Pai didn’t bother arguing. “Elegant. You’re still the most elegant.”

Worried he’d be called a pig himself, Sang Ye held his glass but didn’t drink right away. Instead, he snuck a glance at Tan Mo.

Tan Mo swirled his glass twice with practiced ease before tilting his head slightly. Through the clear glass, Sang Ye could see the deep red wine slip past Tan Mo’s lips and tongue, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm.

Sang Ye had intended to study the technique, but as he watched, his gaze fixated on Tan Mo’s Adam’s apple, unable to look away. It reminded him of that morning in the bathroom—Tan Mo’s fingers buried in his hair, his head tilted back, Adam’s apple trembling, but in a much more urgent rhythm. At the time, Sang Ye had thought it looked incredibly sexy.

—“What are you looking at?”

Tan Mo set down his glass, snapping Sang Ye out of his daze.

Sang Ye forgot what he was supposed to do. To cover up, he quickly took two big gulps from his own glass, licked his lips, and answered calmly, “Nothing.”

Tan Mo shifted his gaze downward, adjusting his napkin. In a soft voice, he asked, “Are you thinking about something dirty?”

Sang Ye nearly choked. “No!”

Tan Mo studied him. “Then why is your face red before you’ve even had a full drink?”

“I…” Sang Ye met Tan Mo’s amused gaze and instantly knew he was messing with him. Flustered, he scooted his chair forward and focused on his meal, refusing to acknowledge him any further.

Sang Ye glanced at his wine glass again, feeling a bit frustrated. He had drunk too fast earlier, just like Xiao Pai, barely tasting the wine—only noticing how smooth it felt.

The extravagant dinner lasted nearly two hours.

Xiao Pai leaned back in his chair, patting his full stomach without a care for his image. Now that the meal was over, he finally dared to ask, “Brother, why are you being so generous today?”

“Am I usually not generous?” Tan Mo tossed his used wet napkin onto his plate.

“No, no, no.” Xiao Pai quickly clarified, “I just mean today, you’ve gone overboard.”

Tan Mo picked up his wine glass again. “Celebrating WLG making it to the final championship match.”

Everyone raised their glasses. “Come on, cheers!”

Xiao Pai was the fastest to react, seizing the moment to say, “Thanks, brother! Also, wishing you immense wealth!”

Tan Mo lowered his eyelashes, his gaze shifting slightly toward the spot next to Sang Ye’s wine glass. “I don’t need wealth—how about wishing me a speedy romance and a happy marriage instead?”

The table erupted in excitement.

Hu Fu laughed. “I knew it! You’re at that age where you’re desperate to find a mate!”

Xiao Pai smacked the table. “Brother! So, have you found our future sister-in-law yet? Hurry up and make a move!”

Yu Haotian joined in the teasing. “I knew it! This was a wedding banquet all along.”

Even E Lan found it amusing.

Only Sang Ye sat there with a face obviously flushed, somewhat awkwardly picking up his wine glass with his left hand.

—Because under the table, Tan Mo had been holding his right hand the entire time.

One, two, three.

Following Xiao Pai’s lead, everyone raised their glasses and shouted in unison, “Wishing you a happy marriage and a baby on the way soon!”

Sang Ye almost choked on his wine.

…

After finishing dinner, Sang Ye went to the restroom.

Tan Mo helped him tidy up his backpack.

Just then, Sang Ye’s phone, which was resting on the table, vibrated.

Tan Mo followed the sound with his gaze.

A message notification popped up.

Qing Feng: [Hey, handsome, when are we meeting?]

Tan Mo paused for a moment, reaching for the phone—but just as he was about to pick it up, he stopped.

Sang Ye had given him the phone password, but that didn’t mean he could freely check his messages.

His expression remained neutral for a moment before he averted his gaze.

Sang Ye returned, drying his hands, and picked up his phone.

As the screen lit up, his eyebrows lifted slightly at the message, and a natural smile surfaced in his eyes.

Sang Ye said, “I’m making a call.”

Just as he was about to step out, Tan Mo called after him, “Your coat.”

Sang Ye responded with an “Oh,” then turned back.

Tan Mo draped a coat over his shoulders and wrapped a scarf around his neck.

While Tan Mo was adjusting the scarf, Sang Ye tilted his face slightly to glance at his phone.

With his lashes lowered, Tan Mo smoothed out a crease in the hanging end of the scarf and asked casually, “What’s it about?”

Sang Ye instantly turned off the phone screen, looked up at Tan Mo, and smiled with slightly curved eyes. “Nothing.”

Tan Mo’s gaze darkened as he looked at him. His fingers clenched slightly, wrinkling the scarf he had just straightened.

Outside the villa, everyone was waiting for the car to arrive.

Sang Ye stood near the fence a little farther away, one hand tucked into his coat pocket, tapping his foot lightly on the brick pavement.

The lighting there was dim, but Tan Mo could still see him bowing his head while listening to the phone call. The soft glow highlighted a sliver of his pale neck, and when he grinned, his face was so dazzlingly beautiful it was almost piercing.

Tan Mo turned to Yu Haotian beside him and asked, “Got a cigarette?”

“You don’t even smoke,” Yu Haotian remarked, but still handed over a cigarette. “Don’t waste my smokes, okay? These have cream-flavored beads—importing them from the States isn’t easy.”

Tan Mo couldn’t be bothered to respond. He placed the cigarette between his lips but didn’t light it, just idly holding it there while continuing to watch Sang Ye.

The cold wind tousled Tan Mo’s hair slightly, strands falling over his eyes, making his gaze appear deep and unreadable.

Until today, Sang Ye had never taken a call behind his back.

The business car pulled up at the entrance. Sang Ye glanced over, hurriedly said a few more words, then ended the call and jogged toward them.

Inside the car, now full from dinner and with it being late, everyone had grown sluggish, no longer as lively as before.

Xiao Pai was glued to his phone, busy typing messages.

In the back row, Hu Fu asked quietly, “Who’s got you so hooked?”

Xiao Pai replied, “Nuo Nuo. She had a fight with her boyfriend.”

Hu Fu chuckled. “Backup plan.”

In the front row, Tan Mo leaned against his seat with his eyes closed, resting.

Sang Ye glanced at him several times. Seeing Tan Mo’s exhausted expression, he lowered his gaze and, appearing a little bored, quietly reached over to play with Tan Mo’s left hand.

But Tan Mo pulled his fingers away.

Sang Ye blinked in confusion.

A second later—

Tan Mo’s hand looped under Sang Ye’s wrist and interlocked their fingers.

The warm touch spread through his palm again. Sang Ye suppressed the smile threatening to curl his lips and, in the dim car interior, continued fiddling with Tan Mo’s hand.

Since they had all rested at least a little in the car, by the time they arrived back at the village and stepped out, everyone seemed refreshed again.

As they walked down the corridor toward their rooms, Xiao Pai suddenly looked up from his phone, as if remembering something. “Bai Mao, wanna come to my room and watch the game?”

Sang Ye turned to Tan Mo and asked, “Are you going?”

Tan Mo pulled out his room key card. “I’m not.”

Sang Ye turned to Xiao Pai and said, “Not going. We’ll watch in our room.”

“You two…” Xiao Pai glanced between them. “Shutting the door to enjoy your own little world, huh?”

Sang Ye told him to get lost.

Back in the room, Sang Ye flopped onto the bed, finally relaxing. The thought of their team securing a spot in the finals filled him with joy for quite a while.

Snapping back to reality, he reached for the remote by the bed, half-sitting up to turn on the TV—at the same time, he noticed Tan Mo taking a foldable stand out of his suitcase and setting it up.

“…What are you doing?” Sang Ye asked.

Tan Mo positioned the stand near the foot of the bed, adjusting it without even looking up. “Haven’t tested out my new camera yet.”

“…?”

“Welcome back, viewers. Up next, we continue with the quarter-finals…” The TV turned on to a sports channel.

Seeing Tan Mo pull out his Leica camera, Sang Ye grew uneasy and slowly sat up. “Why do you have to test it today?”

Tan Mo mounted the camera onto the stand, his long fingers twisting the knobs with precision. “Does it make a difference which day I test it?”

Sang Ye clutched the remote tightly, hesitating for a long time, then stammered, “It’s… it’s so late already. What are you even filming?”

Tan Mo bent slightly, looking through the viewfinder. He adjusted the lens to aim at the bed and said, “Filming myself sleeping.”

Sang Ye glanced at Tan Mo’s bed, then at the camera, then back at the bed. His breathing quickened, and suddenly, he shot up from the bed. “You’re lying!”

Tan Mo finished adjusting the angle to his satisfaction and looked at him, his usually indifferent expression carrying a hint of innocence. “Told you, but you don’t believe me.”

“You—” Sang Ye threw the remote down, his face flushed in frustration. “I’m going to Xiao Pai’s to watch. You enjoy yourself!”

But before he could leave, Tan Mo blocked his way. With a gentle push, he sent Sang Ye back onto the bed.

——”The game is at a standstill… The ball is deep in the opponent’s half—let’s see if they can find an opportunity!”

Looking down at Sang Ye from above, Tan Mo asked, “Why go somewhere else? There’s a TV here too.”

Sang Ye glanced at the camera stand beside him, growing more flustered. “Then move the camera away!”

Tan Mo asked, “Why?”

Sang Ye bit his lip and looked up at him. “You’re definitely planning to film something else… something bad.”

Tan Mo stroked the boy’s flushed cheek and said, “I can’t help it. You’re drunk—I need to be on guard.”

“…” Sang Ye was momentarily at a loss for words, then burst out angrily, “I am not drunk!”

This time, Tan Mo pushed Sang Ye onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his legs. He insisted, “You’re drunk.”

Sang Ye stubbornly propped himself up. “I am not!”

He had barely drunk two glasses of wine. No one on the team had gotten drunk.

Besides, wouldn’t he know whether he was drunk or not?

Tan Mo pressed him down again, pinning him beneath his weight. “That’s exactly what drunk people say.”

“I’m not drunk!” Sang Ye snapped, then suddenly had an idea. “Test me, then! Ask me a math question—I’ll answer it!” Then, after a brief pause, he quickly added, “Within ten!”

If the numbers were too big, he’d need scratch paper to work them out.

Tan Mo took a deep breath, holding back his amusement, and sat up slightly, lowering his head in thought.

Sang Ye hurried to sit up as well.

Tan Mo lifted his gaze and asked, “What’s the extreme value of 2−x−(1)2/32 – x – (1)^{2/3}?”

Sang Ye blinked in confusion. “Huh?”

Tan Mo kept it short. “You’re drunk.”

Sang Ye panicked. “Wait—no—”

Tan Mo loosened his shirt collar slightly and said coolly, “The God wants to save you tonight.”

“……”

Sang Ye stretched out his pale, slender hands, still trying to struggle, but Tan Mo clasped his wrist and pressed it back onto the pillow.

Sang Ye was on the verge of tears. The camera sitting beside them made him incredibly uneasy—it felt like that round lens was a watchful eye, observing their every move.

But Tan Mo, on the other hand, showed no discomfort at all. In fact, he seemed even more at ease than before.

Gradually, Sang Ye’s mind blurred into a haze, unable to think any further.

The red wine they had last night was said to have been aged for thirty years. Sang Ye hadn’t taken the time to savor it properly at the dinner table, but now, through Tan Mo, he was starting to understand why that bottle was so expensive—smooth texture, rich aroma… another sip, and he might actually get drunk.

…

The next morning, Sang Ye woke up late. He rubbed his eyes, blinked a few times, glanced out the window, then turned to the pillow beside him.

The first time was unfamiliar, the second time, less so.

Besides, the key point was—d*mn it, he hadn’t even been drunk last night.

So this time, waking up next to Tan Mo didn’t bring the same shock and confusion as the first time.

Tan Mo was still asleep.

Sang Ye rolled over, freshly awake, and like a ruffled little white puppy, he crawled over to Tan Mo’s pillow and reached out to touch the man’s eyelashes with his fingertips.

Tan Mo’s lashes twitched slightly at the sensation, but he didn’t wake up.

Sang Ye lowered his gaze, lips curving into a faint smile, and continued to play.

Just then—

The phone on the bedside table near Sang Ye’s side vibrated.

Sang Ye turned his head to look.

Almost instantly, Tan Mo’s eyes opened.

Sang Ye stretched out his arm to reach for the phone, his bare upper body emerging from beneath the covers. Though the room was air-conditioned, he still felt the temperature difference and quickly retrieved the phone before shrinking back under the blanket.

Pulling the covers up to shield his ear pressed against the phone, he gave a soft “Mm” in response to the caller.

Tan Mo’s eyes were still sore with sleep as he turned his head to look.

Sang Ye lay with his back to him, a sliver of his fair, delicate nape exposed through the gap in the blanket. The sunlight cast a faint glow on his skin, highlighting the subtle curve of his spine—lean and youthful.

But Tan Mo had no interest in admiring the view.

His mind was consumed by two words—Qing Feng.

The association between that name and the sound of the phone vibrating was enough to give him PTSD.

Sang Ye murmured another two “Mm”s into the phone, his fluffy white hair rubbing against the pillow as he buried his face into it. Then, in a soft, coquettish voice, he whispered, “No.”

Tan Mo was instantly wide awake, his dark eyes clouded with a stormy intensity, as if they were on the verge of spilling over. He flipped over abruptly, his movements so forceful that the sturdy bed creaked loudly in protest.

Sang Ye tensed at the sudden disturbance behind him, his back stiffening instinctively. But before he could react, a warm arm wrapped around him, pulling him close against a firm chest.

Without hesitation, Tan Mo tightened his hold and pressed two deliberate, smacking kisses right behind Sang Ye’s ear, where his phone rested. Then, in a deep, husky voice that sent a shiver down to the bones, he murmured: “Up so early? Why not sleep a little longer, hmm?”

Sang Ye completely froze. He couldn’t turn around, couldn’t hang up, and definitely couldn’t just continue the conversation as if nothing had happened. He was awkwardly stuck in place.

It took him a long while to finally find his voice again. Barely above a whisper, he said into the phone, “Yes… Mm, he’s… Mom, don’t panic just yet…”

“……”

The moment Sang Ye said Mom, Tan Mo stiffened as well.

Whatever was being said on the other end made Sang Ye’s face turn completely red. Unable to bear it, he raised his phone, buried his face into the pillow, and—without another choice—pressed the speaker button.

On the screen, the contact name was clearly displayed: Mom.

Tan Mo cleared his throat, quickly retracting his deep, sultry voice and adopting a more well-behaved tone. “Hello, Auntie.”

---

This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi!  (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･

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Chapter 78 – Boyfriend.

---

Sang Ye was called away by the coach for a private discussion about the afternoon’s practice match.

When he returned to the gaming room, he saw Tan Mo sitting in his seat, using his computer.

“Why are you here?” Sang Ye asked.

Xiao Pai answered before Tan Mo could. “He thought you got lost, so he ran over from the dorms.”

Sang Ye picked up his phone from the table and saw two missed calls from Tan Mo. Realizing what had happened, he curled the corner of his lips slightly.

“I would’ve told you if I was going out.”

“I would’ve told you if I was going out.”

“I would’ve told you if I was going out.”

It was the forum page he hadn’t closed before leaving.

Sensing Sang Ye’s stare, Tan Mo looked over and asked, “I borrowed your computer while you were gone. You mind?”

Forget the computer—Sang Ye usually let Tan Mo use his phone and tablet freely. Tan Mo even knew all his passwords.

“Go ahead.” Sang Ye said this, but his eyes remained locked on the screen, as if afraid Tan Mo would move the cursor one step too far.

Tan Mo finished reviewing the list and casually remarked, “Catch22 and NSN have both advanced to the second stage of the losers’ bracket. Only the top four from this stage will make it to the finals. 22 is performing steadily, but NSN is still struggling. If they don’t adjust, the longer they drag it out, the weaker they’ll get.”

“Yeah, this format is brutal for the losers’ bracket,” Xiao Pai said, stuffing a corn chip into his mouth. “It’s better to make it straight into the winners’ bracket in one go. Out of the sixteen teams, half will secure a spot in the finals, which is practically a free pass.”

“You think the winners’ bracket is easy?” Hu Fu shot him a look. “Every team is a powerhouse. No one can guarantee they’ll make top eight. Lose, and you still have to fight your way through round after round in the later matches.”

“D*mn, Fatty,” Xiao Pai shoved Hu Fu’s chair. “You’re making me nervous with all that talk. Don’t mess with my mindset!”

“Gimme some.” Hu Fu reached for Xiao Pai’s corn chips.

Meanwhile, Tan Mo finished looking at the list and moved the mouse to close the current webpage.

“I got it!” Sang Ye stepped forward and pressed down on Tan Mo’s hand.

Tan Mo stared at him for two seconds, raised an eyebrow, then got up and moved aside.

Sang Ye sat down at the computer, closed the entire browser, and visibly let out a breath of relief.

Catching every subtle change in Sang Ye’s expression, Tan Mo said, “I’m heading back first. Finish up here and come back early.”

Sang Ye obediently responded, “Okay.”

Tan Mo naturally reached out to ruffle his hair before turning to leave.

Sang Ye watched the man’s back, then suddenly stood up. “Wait a second!”

Tan Mo stopped and turned around. “What is it?”

Beside Sang Ye, a chair was piled with a backpack and a jacket. He rummaged through the pile, pulled out a scarf, and handed it to Tan Mo. “Wear mine for now.”

Tan Mo was only wearing a loose crewneck sweater, leaving his long neck exposed. The walk back to their place would take five minutes, and with his tall frame, Sang Ye’s jacket wouldn’t fit him—so all he could offer was his scarf.

Tan Mo glanced at the classic Burberry checkered cashmere scarf, then bent down slightly, lowering his head and resting his hands on his knees.

Sang Ye held the scarf, opened his mouth slightly as if to say something, but in the end, remained silent. His face flushed as he stepped forward and carefully wrapped the scarf around Tan Mo’s neck, looping it twice. He even made sure to pull up the collar slightly to block the wind.

As he withdrew his hands, his gaze landed on Tan Mo’s soft, lowered eyes. Stray strands of hair rested on his eyelids, probably a little irritating. Unable to resist, Sang Ye reached out and gently brushed the strands away with his fingertips.

But the moment he touched them, he seemed to snap back to reality, recoiling as if shocked, immediately pulling his hand back and clutching his fingers.

Plop.

A faint sound came from the side—it was Xiao Pai dropping a corn chip onto the table.

Tan Mo straightened up, his long, fair fingers lightly brushing over the scarf, feeling the warmth of the cashmere. He looked up. “Thanks.”

Sang Ye, like an otter, cupped his flushed face with both hands, his eyelashes lowered as he mumbled, “You’re welcome…”

Tan Mo stared at him, feeling an overwhelming urge to kiss him again.

But aside from the fact that they were in the practice room, Xiao Pai was right there, staring wide-eyed at them without blinking. He also didn’t want to come off like a clingy little dog.

So, Tan Mo turned and left.

Xiao Pai picked up the fallen corn chip and popped it back into his mouth. “Why is it that normal brotherly friendship turns into something this cheesy with you two?”

Sang Ye ignored him, sat back down at his computer, and reopened the forum. To his surprise, his long-dormant alt account had 99+ notifications.

“What the hell…” Sang Ye thought it had to be a system glitch.

Before heading out to see the coach, he had just posted a casual question under someone else’s thread. He was only gone for ten minutes—how could there possibly be 99+ replies?

Clicking the notification, the page refreshed.

Under his comment from ten minutes ago, there were over a thousand replies.

“…”

The first unfolded reply stood out blatantly:

[Your boyfriend loves you way too much. He loves your soul… and also craves your body.]

Sang Ye thought about it.

Although the reasoning made his face heat up, it was… acceptable.

Then he clicked on the collapsed replies.

What filled the screen was an endless stream of [AAAAAAAHHHHHH!]

Sang Ye stared blankly.

What the hell was so exciting about this? This was absolutely ridiculous.

When Sang Ye looked back at the top comment in the thread, he finally noticed the username—[talktome.]

“……”

His brain completely crashed.

That was Tan Mo himself.

Now, looking at the replies and comments again, everything felt completely different.

[Can’t believe I just found Talk God in the Emotional Forum section?!]

[I’m so excited! But also so confused! Talk doesn’t seem like the type to say something like this!]

[Is this Talk20160320 just a fan? So right now, is Talk actually replying to a fan?]

[Wait! No one noticed that Talk20160320 is listed as male, with an IP location in Berlin, Germany?!]

[AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! Is this what I think it is?!]

[AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH SANG FU GUI IS THAT YOU?!]

Sang Ye’s hand trembled. He immediately went to the settings page to change his gender to “Female.”

But just as he was about to confirm the change, he froze.

Changing it now would be way too suspicious. It would only make things worse.

Terrified, Sang Ye logged out of his account in one click.

“Hey, Bai Mao, wanna duo for a couple of rounds?”

Xiao Pai turned around at that moment, only to see Sang Ye slumped over his desk, gripping his hair, looking completely dead inside.

“What’s up with you?” Xiao Pai rolled his chair closer.

“Don’t ask.”

“…Oh.” Xiao Pai rolled back.

…

The day after the elimination bracket ended, the winners’ bracket matches began.

Spanning two days with ten matches in total, only the top eight teams on the leaderboard would qualify for the grand finals.

Before departure, Sang Ye was still reviewing notes on his iPad while waiting in the lobby downstairs. His memorandum pages were filled with diagrams illustrating BTF’s rotations and movement patterns during their Group A matches.

Each team adjusts their strategies at different stages to avoid being too predictable—if opponents figure them out, they become easy targets. However, no matter how much a team changes its approach, a player’s individual habits and playstyle are deeply ingrained and difficult to shake.

Sang Ye’s notes were mostly focused on Gal, with annotations like “holding angles,” “central zone positioning,” and “contesting skyscrapers” scattered everywhere. Although the coaches prepared detailed team reports for everyone, Sang Ye’s own additions were even more thorough.

As the in-game leader (IGL), Sang Ye had to consider more than anyone else.

When Tan Mo came downstairs, Sang Ye was so immersed in his notes that he didn’t even notice.

Tan Mo tilted his head and stood beside him for a while before finally asking, “The player you marked—is that Gal?”

Sang Ye was so startled by the sudden question that he immediately closed his iPad, set it aside, and looked up.

“You’re awake?”

“Not just awake—I’m already downstairs.” Tan Mo sat down on the sofa next to him and said, “I’m going to the venue today too.”

Sang Ye was momentarily surprised. “Did the team doctor approve?”

“Don’t worry,” Tan Mo replied casually. “I know what I’m doing.”

“……”

That meant he didn’t get approval.

Tan Mo stretched out his hand. “Let me see.”

Sang Ye stuffed his iPad into the sofa cushion. “There’s nothing to see.”

Tan Mo raised an eyebrow, expression blank. “What are you hiding from me?”

Left with no choice, Sang Ye reluctantly took the iPad back out, mumbling, “Just… don’t laugh at me.”

“Why would I laugh? I should be praising you for being so diligent.” Tan Mo flipped through the pages and asked, “Even though your drop spots are different, you always run into BTF during rotations. What’s your plan?”

Sang Ye rubbed the back of his neck and lowered his head. “I haven’t figured it out yet.”

Tan Mo said, “You’ve beaten him before.”

“That was… just once.” Sang Ye’s voice dropped to a whisper.

And that one time, he knew how desperately he had fought, how much he had relied on timing and positioning.

Tan Mo looked at Sang Ye. “Are you afraid of him?”

“I’m not afraid of him as a person,” Sang Ye pressed his lips together and said. “But as an opponent, I know he’s strong. He might defeat me.”

“Song.”

“Hm?”

“I think you’re strong.”

Sang Ye’s expression went blank for two seconds before he looked up at Tan Mo.

Tan Mo kept his eyes down, flipping through the notes. “If we weren’t teammates but opponents, you would keep me up at night before a match.”

A warmth spread through Sang Ye’s chest, and his breath hitched. “Are you… are you just trying to hype me up?”

“Gal is afraid of you,” Tan Mo continued. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t keep trying to suppress you. His way of overcoming fear is to destroy it. At the end of the day, he’s just someone too insecure to face reality.”

Sang Ye lowered his eyes, lost in thought.

“No matter what, play at your own pace.” Tan Mo handed the iPad back to him. “Don’t let fear cloud your judgment.”

Sang Ye glanced at his notes, then closed the tablet and straightened his back. “Got it.”

Before long, the others started coming downstairs, gathering in the lobby to check their gear and belongings.

Amidst the noisy chatter, Sang Ye still felt a lingering warmth in his chest. He lowered his head, deep in thought, the more he thought about it, the happier he became.

Finally, when no one was paying attention, he nudged Tan Mo’s arm and whispered, “Was that true?”

Facing the boy’s bright and clear eyes, Tan Mo was momentarily dazed but quickly regained his composure. “What?”

Sang Ye reminded him, “That I would keep you up at night before a match.”

Sang Ye knew he had some skills, but he never thought he was strong enough to make Tan Mo—his ultimate benchmark—feel threatened. To receive such recognition from his idol made him feel so light he might just float away.

Tan Mo said, “It’s true.”

Sang Ye pressed his lips together, barely holding back a smug grin.

Tan Mo took slow steps forward, closing the distance between them until Sang Ye was backed up against a nearby pillar. His tall frame loomed over Sang Ye, blocking him in.

Tan Mo gazed directly into Sang Ye’s eyes and murmured, “I’d spend the whole night thinking about how to get your contact information, how to start a conversation with you… maybe even thinking about your face while doing some other things…”

Sang Ye instantly covered Tan Mo’s mouth with his hand, absolutely mortified. He lowered his voice and scolded, “Stop thinking about useless stuff!”

Since he couldn’t speak, Tan Mo simply pressed a quick kiss to Sang Ye’s palm.

…

By evening, all sixteen teams had gathered, gone through the usual pre-game procedures, and were ready to begin the first day of the Winners’ Bracket matches.

As they parachuted over P City, Xiao Pai raised his view angle. “One squad of four, looks like they’re landing at the double four-story buildings.”

No need to guess—it was Team HK.

“Should we switch landing spots?” Hu Fu asked. “There’s still room near the village.”

If Tan Mo were here, switching wouldn’t even be a consideration.

“No,” Sang Ye decided almost instantly. “If we give up one loot spot, we’d have to give up the church and the seaside houses too.”

“Got it!”

Since the call came from their IGL (in-game leader), everyone followed without question.

The broadcast cameras captured the early-game drop zones, and Commentator A clicked his tongue. “WLG is rolling for the same spot as their big brother team? Gotta respect the courage, but I think it’s a bit risky. Without Talk leading, and with Song and Elan taking over as the core players, they’re still a bit green. Challenging a top European team like this… they might not walk away with much.”

As he spoke, inside the game, Sang Ye found himself parachuting side by side with an opponent, both of them locked onto the same rooftop.

Sang Ye spotted a pistol near the roof’s edge, dove down at full speed, and the moment he landed, he rolled straight to the wall without any hesitation, grabbed the gun, and fired a shot—headshot.

The enemy reacted fast. Instead of panicking and retreating, they lunged for a shotgun behind cover.

Just as they grabbed the gun and turned around, a bullet struck them first.

First blood to Sang Ye. He swiftly swapped his pistol for the opponent’s SMG.

Inside the house, Xiao Pai continued looting. Seeing the kill notification pop up, he sighed in satisfaction. “Nice.”

Commentator A chuckled, “After watching Song’s cautious approach when rolling against the Thai team, I almost forgot—Song actually loves a bloody start. The more chaotic, the better for him. At the very beginning, when everyone’s barely equipped, Song’s advantage is his speed. As long as he gets his hands on a gun, anyone who enters his sights is basically done for.”

Commentator B added, “That’s why Song is such a versatile player—he rises to the challenge against strong opponents. Right from the start, he’s sent a warning shot to HK.”

Backstage in the Rest Area

Yu Haotian frowned in concern. “Are they really going head-to-head with HK?”

“We can’t avoid it,” Tan Mo replied. “Every team preys on the weak. If we show weakness now, we’ll be targeted for the rest of the tournament. Especially against North American and European teams—only by playing aggressively will they hesitate to mess with us.”

So, whether Sang Ye liked it or not, he had to show dominance.

But judging from his performance at the start, Sang Ye already understood this and had adjusted his mindset accordingly.

Tan Mo watched his gameplay on the screen, his gaze softening with a faint smile.

The coach couldn’t help but praise, “Song has an incredibly high ceiling. Leading a team on the world stage at just eighteen years old, making it into the Winners’ Bracket—it’s something I never thought I’d see before. It takes both talent and leadership. He’s truly remarkable, a player who commands respect.”

“Of course,” Tan Mo responded nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s someone I chose.”

The coach shook his head, exasperated. “Yeah, yeah, I know. If it weren’t for you insisting on bringing him to the club, I’d be regretting it for life.”

Tan Mo said, “No, you really have no idea.”

“…?” The coach glanced at him in confusion.

In-Game: Minute 5

WLG lost one player. After redistributing medical supplies, they rotated along the edge of the zone while tanking damage from the blue.

Fifteen minutes in, WLG heard intense gunfire from behind a ridge.

Xiao Pai checked the kill feed. “It’s BTF.”

Sang Ye said, “BTF is shooting from the compound.”

Xiao Pai asked, “How do you know?”

Right now, all they knew was that two teams were fighting—they had no information on the exact positions of each squad.

Sang Ye said, “BTF usually locks down a position by the third circle. Gal prefers to hold buildings, and with his aim, it’s extremely difficult for anyone to breach his defenses.”

Xiao Pai was surprised. “How do you know so much?”

“I take notes.” Sang Ye replied. “Let’s go—time to third-party them.”

“D*mn, Bai Mao, that’s bold.” Xiao Pai was a little shocked. “I thought we’d rotate around them through Dragon’s Ridge. After all, we’re up against BTF.”

“You might not know this.”

“Know what?”

“Gal is afraid of me.”

“…?”

“I’m his worst nightmare.”

“……”

As WLG’s three players crept into position, two Norwegian team members were crawling behind cover, waiting for their teammates to revive them.

Meanwhile, from the third-floor windows, an enemy was laying down suppressive fire, chipping away at their health while lobbing grenades, hoping to secure the kills.

Commentator A: “Alright, Gal is as steady as ever. Just a couple more shots for the double kill! …Wait, what?”

The system flashed two kill notifications.

[WLG-Song eliminated …]

[WLG-Song eliminated …]

Commentator B laughed. “WLG abandoned their original rotation and flanked the Norwegian team without anyone noticing. They just stole both kills!”

Commentator A: “Nice, nice! Gal just did all the work for Song. Wonder how he feels about that?”

Inside the compound, Gal cursed under his breath, clearly furious.

On the global stage, every point was precious—let alone two free points stolen by Sang Ye.

In Korean, Gal spat out viciously, “You want to step into hell? Fine, I’ll make sure you do.”

As Sang Ye engaged in the fight, the blue zone had already begun closing in. The option to rotate through the weak side was gone—they had no choice but to push directly through BTF’s firepower.

Sang Ye’s rhythm was simple: take every kill opportunity, not out of greed, but because he was confident. If they could break through BTF’s position, it was far more valuable than settling for a weaker rotation.

That was just how Sang Ye played.

He and Xiao Pai worked together to pick off a BTF player inside the compound, turning the match into a 3v3.

Sang Ye made the first aggressive push, with Xiao Pai covering from behind, securing a knock.

At the window, Sang Ye and Gal came face to face, both flicking their aim at the same time.

Gal, with his deadly accuracy, landed the shot first, knocking Sang Ye.

Commentator A: “Ah! In close-range combat, Gal still has the upper hand!”

Sang Ye took a deep breath and released his mouse.

Next time, he’d get him for sure.

Gal sneered. He didn’t rush to loot Sang Ye’s body and was about to turn back inside—when a sniper round pierced straight through his head.

“……”

Commentator B: “What a clutch shot from Hu Fu! His reaction time was insane—it’s like he was just waiting for Gal! If you think about it, a one-for-one trade between Song and Gal isn’t bad at all!”

Sang Ye had deliberately double-secured the play, positioning himself by the window so that Gal’s exposed angle would line up perfectly for Huf, who was still holding from a distance.

With Gal gone, the last remaining BTF player was quickly eliminated.

Hu Fu and Xiao Pai secured control of the compound. As the zone continued to shrink, they managed to secure a third-place finish.

In the following matches, HK refused to give up their contest for the landing spot against WLG, and WLG did not back down either. After five rounds, WLG emerged victorious in four of them, though they suffered a crushing defeat in one.

This series of battles made it clear to other teams that, despite WLG’s young roster, they were not easy opponents. Before engaging them, others would now have to think twice about the risks.

By the end of the first day of the Winners’ Bracket, WLG was ranked fourth, temporarily in a safe position, while HK had fallen out of the top eight.

After the matches, Sang Ye, who was ranked third on the kill leaderboard, was interviewed.

The enthusiastic foreign host animatedly asked questions, with a translator beside him relaying them to Sang Ye: “Song, you’re officially the first 18-year-old player to take on the role of a commander in a global tournament—it’s truly impressive. Do you feel any pressure?”

Without even blinking, Sang Ye leaned into the microphone and said, “I eat pressure for breakfast.”

The domestic livestream chat exploded:

[“HAHAHAHAHAHA! He’s this cocky everywhere he goes. That’s our Sang Fugui for you!”]

The host laughed as well. “Do you have confidence in making it to the final championship match?”

Sang Ye answered smoothly, “I’d say the championship trophy already has WLG’s name engraved on it.”

The chat was flooded with laughter.

The coach, stunned for a moment, then let out a helpless chuckle—there was just no taming Sang Ye.

But that was the charm of being eighteen: fearless, daring to dream big, and possessing an unwavering hunger for victory.

On stage, Sang Ye appeared composed and confident. However, once he got into the car, he became noticeably quieter.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the forums. Several trending posts dominated the homepage, filled with discussions about today’s matches.

[I’ve said it before—PCL is just weak teams fighting each other. This year, they sent three teams, and NSN was completely embarrassing. Catch22 is still struggling in the losers’ bracket, and WLG—the only team that made it to the winners’ bracket—only placed fourth. Pathetic. I doubt they’ll even stay in the top eight tomorrow.]

[This is Song’s first time leading the team, okay? Isn’t this result already impressive? Can you even find a second person in the domestic scene who could do the same?]

[Fans always have excuses. Just because it’s his first time leading, we have to be understanding? I admit he’s individually skilled and has potential, but as a team, WLG definitely isn’t performing at its previous level. Without Talk, WLG isn’t the same anymore—it’s no longer a top-tier team.]

[Why are you trying to stir up drama?]

[At this stage, just making it to the finals is good enough. Stop fixating on rankings.]

[Sure, rankings don’t matter now, but do you really think they can take first place in the grand finals at this level?]

[They should stop contesting HK for drop spots before they ruin themselves.]

[…]

Sang Ye closed his phone and leaned against the car window, staring at the deep night outside.

In esports, if a team doesn’t deliver an absolutely stunning performance, netizens will always find reasons to criticize both the players and the team from every possible angle.

That was exactly why Yu Haotian had told them not to check the forums over the past few days.

There was still another match tomorrow. After a brief review session, the coach dismissed everyone, reminding them to get some rest and conserve their energy. He also specifically warned them not to watch any other matches.

At 10:30 PM, Sang Ye was already in bed. After scrolling through a few videos, he turned off his phone, pulled up the blanket, and prepared to sleep.

But for someone who usually fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, this time, even by midnight, he still wasn’t drowsy.

Tan Mo had already gone to sleep.

The man was always quiet when sleeping, his breathing barely audible.

Outside, the ground was still covered in snow, making the moonlight unusually bright. A cool, silvery glow filled the room.

Unable to sleep, Sang Ye got up, moving carefully as he picked up the plush blanket draped at the foot of the bed.

He stepped onto the balcony outside the room. The moment he opened the door, the freezing air hit him, making his teeth chatter twice. Quickly, he wrapped the blanket tightly around himself.

Leaning against the railing, he placed his hands on the cold metal—only to immediately pull them back.

Standing in the freezing night, watching the silent cityscape, his restless thoughts finally began to quiet down.

Sang Ye had rarely ever suffered from insomnia, but tonight, he couldn’t stop thinking about tomorrow’s match.

Should they continue contesting HK for drop spots?

If they lost to HK tomorrow, would they fall out of the top eight?

If they dropped into the losers’ bracket, how would they fight for those four remaining spots?

Would a single misstep mean there was no way to recover?

Just as his mind spiraled into endless speculation, he heard the sound of a door opening behind him.

Sang Ye turned around.

Tan Mo had come outside.

“Did I wake you up?” Sang Ye saw that Tan Mo was only wearing his pajamas and pulled the blanket off himself to hand it over.

Tan Mo draped it over his shoulders, then pulled Sang Ye into his arms, wrapping them both inside the soft, oversized blanket.

“I’m a light sleeper anyway,” he said. “I would’ve woken up either way.”

Sang Ye had just been hit by a blast of cold air. He shivered and hissed through his teeth before burrowing back into Tan Mo’s embrace, quickly enveloped in warmth.

Holding him from behind, Tan Mo asked, “Can’t sleep?”

Sang Ye chuckled sheepishly. “A little.”

Tan Mo pulled him closer, resting his chin on Sang Ye’s white head.

His heart ached for him.

Esports players might appear lighthearted and carefree on the surface, cracking jokes during live streams, but the pressure they carried was unimaginable. Once the season started, no one had it easy.

Players feared becoming the weak link. Shot-callers feared making the wrong decisions. And for teams sitting at the top, if they didn’t deliver results, they would be met with relentless online harassment, mockery, and hate.

But some would say, Your salary is high. So what if you go through this?

Which was why no one truly understood them.

Because in this profession, the only thing that mattered was winning—being the strongest.

Sang Ye didn’t have to bear so much anxiety. But because he had been pushed into the role of shot-caller, he had taken all of it upon himself.

“You did great today. It’s been a tough stretch for you,” Tan Mo said. “I’ll be able to play in the next phase, so don’t worry.”

Sang Ye tilted his head back, but he couldn’t see behind him. “The team doctor cleared you?”

Tan Mo lowered his gaze, frowning slightly. “Why do you always listen to the team doctor? If it were up to him, I’d already be retired.”

“…” Sang Ye turned his head forward. “Then maybe you should take it easy.”

Tan Mo leaned in, capturing the edge of Sang Ye’s ear between his lips and biting down—firmly.

Sang Ye winced in pain and let out a yelp.

Tan Mo released him and reached out to rub his ear gently. “I can play… but you’ll have to keep an eye on me.”

Sang Ye understood what he meant. His face flushed red, but he kept his expression blank and let out a drawn-out “Oh—” in response.

Still, deep inside, he was happy that Tan Mo could return to the game. The weight on his shoulders suddenly felt much lighter.

Tan Mo asked, “Can you sleep now?”

Sang Ye nodded, but then shook his head. “Stay with me a little longer.”

Tan Mo raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Sang Ye tilted his chin toward the distance. “Look how nice the moon is tonight.”

Tan Mo followed his gaze.

A silver-white full moon hung in the deep purple sky, like something out of a fairy tale.

He chuckled softly and pulled the blanket tighter around Sang Ye’s shoulders. “So you do have a romantic side.”

“…”

Sang Ye decided the moment still felt nice, so he didn’t argue.

Tan Mo held him close, and the two stood quietly on the balcony, gazing at the moon.

As he inhaled the soft, clean scent of Sang Ye’s hair, Tan Mo suddenly said, “I’m actually really scared.”

Sang Ye’s heart clenched. “Of what?”

“I’m afraid of suddenly losing control, of crashing down,” Tan Mo admitted. “Afraid that I’ll be the reason the team falls apart.”

Every time Tan Mo stepped onto the stage, it felt like walking a tightrope. He never knew when an accident might happen. No matter how strong his willpower was, he wasn’t invincible.

It had happened before—back at the Intercontinental Championship. If Sang Ye hadn’t stepped up that day, WLG wouldn’t have even made it to Berlin.

Wrapped in the shared warmth of the blanket, Sang Ye raised his hand and grasped Tan Mo’s wrist. “It’s okay. This is just another kind of challenge. There will always be a way to overcome it. Even if, even if, even if, even if—” He repeated himself several times before finally continuing, “Even if we miss out on the championship, WLG can still keep pushing forward.”

Tan Mo’s gaze froze for a moment. He lowered his head to look at Sang Ye. “Don’t you have to win the championship? If you don’t… then what?”

Like it would be the end of the world.

Sang Ye furrowed his brows and awkwardly turned to face him. “Then what?”

“…”

Tan Mo didn’t know how to respond.

He started to wonder if anything Sang Ye had said that drunken night at the barbecue place could be taken seriously.

“…Nothing. I just assumed—you really look like you want to win.”

“Of course I want to win.” Sang Ye met Tan Mo’s gaze with unwavering seriousness. “I came here for the championship. Who wouldn’t want to win? And for some reason… I just have this feeling that we will.”

“…”

A strange kind of intuition?

Tan Mo mused, “I didn’t expect you to be so… optimistic and open-minded.”

Sang Ye suddenly remembered something, and his gaze flickered away in embarrassment. “There was a time when I wasn’t…”

But halfway through his sentence, Sang Ye pressed his lips together.

Tan Mo asked, “What’s wrong?”

Sang Ye glanced at him, then rested his forehead against Tan Mo’s chest.

Before coming to the global tournament, there had been a time when he was incredibly stubborn—convinced that winning the championship was the only option, that if he didn’t take the title, his life would be over, and he would never be able to have the person he wanted.

Because he believed that only as a champion would he be worthy of Tan Mo.

But gradually, Sang Ye realized how foolish that idea was.

Maybe it was because Tan Mo had openly called him his “kapu wo” (Couple) on stream.

Maybe it was because Tan Mo never hesitated to claim him in front of foreign players.

Or maybe it was the way Tan Mo always took care of him, growing less and less reserved about showing his affection.

And then, every single time they argued—no matter how angry he was—Tan Mo was always the one to apologize first, the one to break the stalemate.

After everything they had been through, there came a moment when Sang Ye suddenly understood: Tan Mo really did love him.

—Even if he had barely scraped through elementary school, was hopeless at foreign languages, could get himself lost just by stepping outside, had more flaws than strengths, wasn’t a champion, and had achieved nothing of significance… it didn’t matter. Tan Mo loved him. He wouldn’t leave just because there were better, more exceptional people in the world.

And now, Sang Ye was certain of it.

What determined whether he could be with Tan Mo wasn’t a championship title. It wasn’t about whether he was worthy or not. It was about them truly loving each other.

Thinking of all this, warmth spread through Sang Ye’s chest. His eyes sparkled as he lifted his head and stood on tiptoe, jumping up slightly—almost knocking into Tan Mo’s chin. “Talk, I—”

Tan Mo looked at him, patiently waiting for what he was about to say. “Hmm?”

Just then, a cold breeze, damp with evening dew, swept past them, ruffling Sang Ye’s white hair. The heat in his chest cooled slightly.

He swallowed, fingers tightening around the fabric of Tan Mo’s sleepwear, his lashes lowering as he dropped back onto his heels.

Not now.

“The last time we went to the bar, do you know what that Russian team guy—what’s his name, something-something Tractor—said?” Sang Ye lifted his head again, his expression returning to normal.

Tan Mo chuckled at Sang Ye’s attempt at Russian names, which always sounded like “Lavlasky” to him, and played along. “What did he say?”

“That going all out and enjoying the game aren’t contradictory. Esports is something fun. Even though we bear immense pain, we endure it willingly because of our love for the game.” Sang Ye repeated, “That’s what he said. I used to be here chasing idols, but now, I think I’ve fallen in love with competitive gaming. I want to win the global championship because it’s the highest honor in this profession. I want to fight for it, and I want my team to have it. It’s proof of our passion, and also the reward for our suffering.”

The moonlight tonight was truly beautiful. It shone on the boy’s clean, sharp features, illuminating his dark eyes, which gleamed with clarity and determination. The soft light seemed to flow over his delicate face, making his features appear almost translucent.

He looked as if he was glowing.

Tan Mo stared at Sang Ye for a long moment, his expression calm before he nodded. “You’re right. That’s amazing. I hope you’ll always love this game. Now, let me kiss you.”

Sang Ye’s brow furrowed in surprise. “Huh?”

Tan Mo leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Then, as if finding the position inconvenient, he pulled Sang Ye closer, shifting them onto the couch against the balcony wall, settling Sang Ye onto his lap.

Wrapped in the soft blanket, they weren’t cold. Sang Ye’s face flushed red in an instant, his lashes lowering as he sat quietly. Tan Mo gently nipped at his soft lips, wetting them before leaning in again for another brief taste.

He wasn’t sure if it was the clarity and determination in Sang Ye’s eyes that made him unusually alluring tonight, or if it was the instinctive thrill of being close to him, but Tan Mo felt a surge of excitement. Even with his loose sleep pants, he was starting to feel a little uncomfortable.

The night breeze drifted over the balcony.

Finally, before things got out of control, Tan Mo pulled away.

His handsome face was slightly flushed as he ran a finger along the corner of Sang Ye’s lips. “Go to sleep. You have a match tomorrow.”

Sang Ye’s mind was still running hot. He frowned slightly, seemingly dissatisfied. Then, in a quiet rustle, he rolled up his sleep shirt, bit the fabric between his teeth, and let out a muffled voice from deep in his throat.

“Touch me. Touch me…”

“…”

Tan Mo took a deep breath and gently pulled down Sang Ye’s sleep shirt. “Spare me, and spare yourself too. Be good, okay?”

…

The next day, there were still five matches to play.

HK insisted on contesting hot-drop locations.

WLG had already mentally prepared for this, knowing that expecting a top European team to back down was unrealistic.

Sang Ye’s gunplay was incredibly smooth today, and in every match, he shredded HK’s lineup into pieces.

By the third match, Commentator A sighed, “HK’s points are too low now—they won’t be able to qualify. Looks like they’re headed to the lower bracket to fight for survival.”

Commentator B added, “That’s how European teams are. If you don’t beat them into submission, they won’t back off.”

Then Commentator A chuckled, “I’ve noticed that WLG always seems to unleash their full power on the final day. Just look at Song today—his aim is rock solid.”

Commentator B agreed, “There’s been a lot of negativity online lately, but these young players are still improving steadily under all this pressure. Their resilience is incredible.”

In the final match, WLG rotated into the zone in Phase Four and ended up crashing into BTF’s compound.

Sang Ye peeked out from a window, only to be immediately hit by an enemy’s sightline.

He was quick to retreat, and the damage wasn’t fatal. Without hesitation, he shifted toward the backdoor, listening carefully as footsteps inside the house moved toward the window he had just left.

Sang Ye kicked open the door. The enemy inside spun around in alarm, but Sang Ye had already fired first, landing perfect shots into his back.

The system notification popped up—[Gal has been eliminated.]

The fifth match concluded.

When the overall leaderboard was displayed, WLG had climbed steadily to second place, securing a direct spot in the Grand Finals.

At that moment, the live chat was flooded with messages spamming WLG’s four players’ IDs, with Song’s name dominating the screen.

On the forums, celebratory posts exploded, hailing PCL’s first team to qualify. Just yesterday, the top trending threads filled with criticism had completely collapsed.

Sang Ye had secured the most kills of the entire match.

After the game, the host once again handed him the microphone.

“That was incredible! I’m really curious—what’s your secret to maintaining such a strong performance today?”

In the WLG lounge, everyone was feeling relieved and relaxed.

Tan Mo took the phone handed to him and glanced at the screen—it showed the restaurant that Xiao Pai had chosen for dinner. Tonight, WLG planned to head into the city for a big feast.

The menu listed an average price of 2,500.

—Euros.

Tan Mo let out a displeased hiss and looked at Xiao Pai. “You think my money just falls from the sky?”

“Brother!” Xiao Pai immediately started spewing nonsense, shamelessly pleading, “We don’t get to travel abroad often! It’s not like we eat like this every day! What’s wrong with treating ourselves just this once?”

With a cold expression, Tan Mo handed the phone back. “Pick another place.”

Meanwhile, on the TV, Sang Ye was answering the interviewer. “Keeping a relaxed mindset and getting enough sleep.”

The host followed up, “With such an intense competition schedule, how do you manage to stay relaxed and ensure proper sleep? Can you share your secret with us?”

Sang Ye clasped his hands behind his back and leaned toward the mic. “I don’t do much, but someone helps me de-stress, listens to me, and reminds me to sleep.”

The host asked, “Who?”

Sang Ye replied, “Not telling you.”

The host burst into laughter. “You’re too cute! Do you have a girlfriend?”

Sang Ye answered, “No.”

The host’s eyes glimmered mischievously. “A boyfriend, then?”

Hearing the translation, Sang Ye froze. “…”

He glanced at the host, then lowered his gaze to his shoes, lips pressed together.

Sensing something unusual, the host carefully followed up, “Yes? Or No?”

Sang Ye looked at her again.

One second passed…

Two seconds passed…

Three seconds passed…

Even though they spoke different languages, as they locked eyes, a smile gradually surfaced in both of their gazes.

Finally, Sang Ye couldn’t hold it in any longer—he lowered his head, the corners of his lips curling up.

The host smacked her forehead. “Oh my gosh…”

Xiao Pai had just taken Tan Mo’s phone when he glanced at the interview on TV, completely baffled. “What does that mean?”

Tan Mo cleared his throat, then casually took his phone back from Xiao Pai. With a hint of laughter in his voice, he changed his mind:

“Let’s just eat at this place.”

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Author’s Note:

Talk: Tonight, we’re celebrating my wedding banquet—doesn’t matter if it’s a little expensive.

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