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

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Chapter 77 – Video.

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The boy had suffered a great grievance, his slender body trembling slightly with each suppressed sob.

Tan Mo stopped fighting with himself. His hand, which had been hovering midair, finally landed on Sang Ye’s trembling back, while his other hand cradled the back of his head.

Even though it had only taken half an hour to find him, Tan Mo had been overwhelmed with worry. Every single second without news had felt like torture, as if he were being burned alive. He had even imagined the worst possible outcome.

The anxiety had built up, which was why, upon first seeing Sang Ye, he had lost his temper.

But now, with the boy in his arms—feeling his warmth, breathing in his familiar scent—Tan Mo finally let go of the tension in his chest. Relief and lingering fear crashed over him at once.

His arms instinctively tightened around Sang Ye. At this moment, there was nothing else he wanted to say, no more scolding left in him.

As long as he was safe, that was all that mattered.

Freed from his earlier despair, Sang Ye had so much to say that he couldn’t even organize his thoughts. His hoarse voice was muffled against Tan Mo’s chest. “I waited for so long… I didn’t know who to ask… I didn’t know when you’d come… I was scared… I just wanted to go back, I wanted to see you…”

Tan Mo turned his face into Sang Ye’s soft hair, taking two deep breaths before whispering, “Don’t run off again, alright?”

Sang Ye whimpered and nodded—once, then again.

Tan Mo immediately called Yu Haotian to let him know that Sang Ye had been found and asked him to report the lost phone. Everything else, he would take care of himself.

Sang Ye finally managed to calm down. He took the tissue Tan Mo handed him, quietly wiping his tears while still hiding in Tan Mo’s embrace.

Then his stomach growled.

His fingers tightened around the tissue as he quickly glanced up, seemingly checking whether Tan Mo had noticed.

Tan Mo looked down at him.

The boy’s eyes were still red, his nose tinged a soft pink. As he gazed up with those wide, watery eyes, he looked just like a puppy.

Tan Mo asked, “You haven’t eaten?”

Sang Ye lowered his eyes, fiddling with the damp tissue, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… didn’t have any money…”

Tan Mo ruffled his hair. “How are you this pitiful?”

They crossed the street to the nearest restaurant, where Tan Mo ordered a grilled meat set for Sang Ye.

Effortlessly fluent, he conversed with the waiter as he placed their order.

Sang Ye leaned closer to the table and whispered, “How many languages do you actually speak?”

“What for?” Tan Mo pushed the knife, fork, and plate in front of him aside and said, “It’s not like I’m fluent in them.”

“Including the ones you’re not fluent in?” Sang Ye pressed on. “How many?”

Tan Mo replied, “Just five, six, seven, eight or so.”

Sang Ye lowered his head and pressed the napkin against the table, folding it. “…That’s amazing.”

Tan Mo casually rested a hand on the back of the chair beside him. “You came here to buy a phone, didn’t you?”

At this point, there was no use hiding it. Sang Ye let out a small “Mm.”

Tan Mo stared at him. “For me?”

Sang Ye buried his head even lower, folding and refolding the napkin, then abruptly changed the subject. “How did you find me?”

Tan Mo said, “You never mentioned wanting to go out shopping before. Then suddenly, you left. I guessed you were buying me a phone and searched for the nearest Apple store. The only one around here is in Mitte.”

Sang Ye let out an “Oh, oh,” and after calming down, he felt embarrassed and ashamed—not only had he failed to buy a phone, but he had also lost his own. “Good thing there aren’t many Apple stores… Thanks.”

“What are you thanking me for? I should be thanking you for not running too far.”

“……”

“I was worried you had gone back to Shanxi.”

“…Why would I go back to Shanxi? How could I possibly go back now?”

Tan Mo lowered his lashes slightly. “Isn’t running back to your family what people do when they’re upset?”

“……”

Sang Ye’s hands froze, and his face burned.

“Don’t do this again next time,” Tan Mo said, his tone becoming more serious. “If I’m not around, at least let the manager or a teammate know where you’re going before you head out.”

Sang Ye hesitated before mumbling, “Yu Haotian did ask…”

Tan Mo raised a brow. “And?”

“But I didn’t think it was necessary. If I said too much, I’d have to explain everything. I thought I’d be quick—just buy it and head back… Then, when you woke up, you’d see your new phone right away.”

Tan Mo picked up on something, licked the corner of his lips, and suppressed a hint of amusement. “You’re actually kind of romantic.”

“What romance?!” Sang Ye abruptly lifted his head, clenched his fists, and pounded them on the table. “I’m not!”

But as he said that, his cheeks were already turning uncontrollably red.

Just then, the waiter arrived with the meal, smiling warmly. “Guten Appetit!”

The two momentarily quieted down and moved back slightly to make space for the large plate of grilled meat.

Sang Ye had barely eaten a couple of bites in the morning before heading out, and he had missed lunch entirely, so he was starving.

He speared a sausage with his fork, just about to take a bite, but then paused, suddenly remembering something. He looked up at Tan Mo. “Aren’t you eating?”

Tan Mo replied, “I already ate at the village.”

They privately referred to their current community as the “athlete village.”

Hearing that, Sang Ye stopped worrying about him and focused on his food.

His eating manners weren’t exactly refined, but when someone good-looking ate, anything they did seemed appetizing and pleasing to the eye. His soft pink lips wrapped around the sausage, his cheek puffing slightly as he bit down, the juicy meat bursting with flavor. His tongue flicked briefly against his teeth and lips.

Tan Mo watched him for a moment, then leaned his head on his hand, which rested on the back of the chair, and turned his gaze to the pedestrians outside.

Sang Ye looked up, noticing Tan Mo seemed to be enduring something. He figured it was because he hadn’t been scolded yet. Lowering his gaze, he spoke softly, “If you have something to say, just say it…”

He knew he hadn’t been smart about things today—not only had he caused trouble for himself, but he had also inconvenienced everyone else.

Tan Mo didn’t look at him. Instead, his slender fingers raked through his hair by his ear. “Just hurry up and finish your sausage.”

Sang Ye lowered his head and focused on eating. Halfway through, he suddenly glanced up at Tan Mo, then at his sausage, his eyes widening in disbelief. His breathing quickened. “Can you not think about it like that?”

Tan Mo continued staring outside, the corner of his lips curving slightly. “I don’t want to either… But if you have the guts, then stop thinking about it too.”

“I…”

Sang Ye gripped his fork tightly and stabbed it into his food, deciding not to argue. Instead, he focused on finishing the sausage as quickly as possible.

But this was just like being told, “Don’t think about a blue elephant.” The moment you heard it, your mind inevitably filled with nothing but blue elephants.

Right now, Sang Ye’s head was full of yesterday morning’s scene in the bathroom—hands and mouths entwined, half a roll of paper used up. His face grew redder and redder, as if the sausage in front of him were unbearably spicy.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed the knife beside him and, in one swift motion, chopped all six sausages on his plate into tiny strips.

Tan Mo shifted his gaze back from the street, only to see that the sausages had been reduced to thin, shredded pieces.

“……”

Well, at least now there was nothing left to associate with that.

…

After finishing their meal, Tan Mo paid the bill.

Sang Ye, full and satisfied, slumped back in his chair and looked outside. Tiny snowflakes had begun to fall.

“Did you bring an umbrella?” Sang Ye asked.

“I only brought myself,” Tan Mo replied, glancing out the window before turning to say something to the waiter.

The waiter smiled and nodded before walking away.

By the time they put on their coats and reached the door, the waiter returned with a long-handled, wine-red umbrella.

Tan Mo opened it.

It was large enough to cover both of them.

Sang Ye stuffed his hands into his coat pockets, shivering slightly from the cold air he inhaled. His breath came out as warm, misty clouds.

He stepped under Tan Mo’s umbrella, leaving a small gap of about a fist’s width between their arms.

“Sang Ye,” Tan Mo slightly raised the arm holding the umbrella handle. “To make it easier for me to hold this, do you think you could be a little more considerate?”

Sang Ye sneaked a glance at Tan Mo before cautiously reaching out to slip his hand through the crook of Tan Mo’s arm.

On the surface, he acted reserved. But once he clung on, he showed no intention of letting go.

As they walked, Sang Ye huddled close to Tan Mo to shield himself from the wind. His hands, exposed to the cold air, quickly found their way into Tan Mo’s coat pockets. Finally, he turned his face slightly, pressing the tip of his nose against Tan Mo’s shoulder, inhaling deeply. His whole body was filled with the clean, elegant scent of cold freshness.

Sang Ye lifted his head and exhaled a white puff of breath, shivering. “Ugh, it’s so cold.”

His skin was delicate, and the wind felt like tiny blades scraping against his face, turning it red with ease—just like a child’s.

Tan Mo pulled up Sang Ye’s hood. As he let go, his fingers deliberately or unintentionally brushed against the smooth skin of Sang Ye’s cheek. His voice was calm. “Let’s go. I’ll buy you a phone.”

Sang Ye suddenly slowed his steps, tugging lightly at Tan Mo’s arm. “I don’t need a new phone. I still have another one.”

He had always used two phones—one primary and one backup. Both were bought earlier that year, so they were still the latest models, just in different colors. There was no real need for a new one.

Tan Mo didn’t insist. “Want to look around nearby?”

“No, no, no,” Sang Ye continued holding onto him. “We’re buying you a phone.”

That was the whole reason he had gone out in the first place.

Tan Mo replied indifferently, “I don’t need a new one. I’ll just get the screen repaired.”

Sang Ye grew anxious. “Don’t be stingy! I’m buying it for you!” Then, worried Tan Mo would refuse again, he quickly added, “I’ll pay you back as soon as we get back!”

Tan Mo licked his lips, suppressing a smile. “It’s not about saving money. My phone doesn’t have data backup enabled. If I get a new one, I’ll have to transfer all my photos and records—it’s just a hassle.”

For Tan Mo, getting a new phone was nothing but an unnecessary inconvenience.

But Sang Ye refused to accept that. He didn’t want Tan Mo using a cracked screen. “Just enable backup, it’s really easy.”

“Allowing cloud backup means giving up privacy. Unless you disable it completely, there’s no such thing as absolute security.”

Tan Mo had his principles. Ever since he had started saving photos of Sang Ye, he not only disabled cloud storage but also changed all his app permissions from “Allow access to all photos” to a more restrictive option.

Then, stepping closer to Sang Ye, he lowered his voice. “Otherwise, why do you think I dared to record those little videos of you? Hmm?”

Sang Ye’s breath caught. He glanced at Tan Mo, then quickly lowered his head, grabbed Tan Mo’s arm, and turned away. “L-Let’s just go back. The snow’s getting heavy—hurry up! Stop talking!”

“……”

Because of the snowy weather, there was a long line of people waiting for taxis at the entrance to the pedestrian street.

Fortunately, the taxi stand had a canopy, blocking the wind and snow.

Tan Mo closed the umbrella.

Sang Ye stood on the raised edge of the platform, having taken off his hat. He ran his fingers through his slightly damp hair, brushing off the snowflakes that had settled there. His gaze was fixed on the tiny snowflakes melting into the asphalt road, yet the more he thought about it, the more uneasy he felt.

“…Sorry.”

Sang Ye lowered his hand, half of his face buried in his collar as he mumbled an apology.

Tan Mo didn’t understand. “For what?”

Sang Ye obediently admitted his mistake. “I broke your phone.”

Tan Mo didn’t mind. “You were drunk. It happens.”

“I…” Sang Ye raised his shoulders slightly, then let them drop. For the first time, he seemed unsure. “Did I really… do something like that after getting drunk?”

Tan Mo was momentarily stunned. He glanced at the young man beside him, noticing, with some surprise, that Sang Ye was showing signs of backing down. His expression softened. Raising a hand, he ruffled Sang Ye’s hair and said, “So what if you did? In front of me, there’s nothing to feel embarrassed about.”

Sang Ye lowered his eyes. A moment later, he suddenly lifted his head with newfound determination, his gaze burning. “Impossible.”

“……”

At the end of the day, Sang Ye was still quite confident in his own sense of integrity.

Tan Mo cupped one side of Sang Ye’s face, squeezed lightly, and gritted his teeth as he emphasized each word: “You’re so annoying.”

“You’re the one at fault.” Sang Ye stiffened his neck, tilting his head with defiant arrogance as he met Tan Mo’s gaze head-on. “Promise me there won’t be a next time, and I’ll let it go.”

“Let me think about it.” Tan Mo exhaled, shifting his eyes to the passing cars. “I have my own principles too.”

“I’m done playing with you!” Frustrated, Sang Ye turned away from him, facing the other direction.

“?”

Tan Mo raised an eyebrow, watching the young man. Then, in an amused tone, he said, “Fine, I was wrong. I won’t take advantage of you again.”

“……”

Without a word, Sang Ye quietly turned back around.

Tan Mo almost laughed at Sang Ye’s childish reaction but held it in, lowering his gaze instead.

After letting go of his stubbornness, he figured out his mistake in less than a second.

It was undeniable that Sang Ye had feelings for him, but they weren’t strong enough for him to willingly mess around with Tan Mo. That meant whatever desires he had expressed while drunk didn’t count.

He should’ve realized this sooner, but his selfishness had tempted him into pushing the boundary.

There was still a step left between them.

“Even though you don’t remember anything, don’t worry,” Tan Mo said plainly, blinking once. “You enjoyed it.”

“You…” Sang Ye’s face instantly flushed red. His eyes darted around, checking if anyone had overheard.

Tan Mo reassured him, “They don’t understand Chinese.”

“……”

Right. They were surrounded by foreigners.

Sang Ye hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “What you did was wrong.”

“I know,” Tan Mo admitted.

Trying to suppress his embarrassment, Sang Ye pointed out the real issue. “It was… something we did together. So why do you remember everything while I remember nothing?”

Tan Mo thought he had misheard and turned to look at him.

Sang Ye’s dark eyes flickered with hesitation before he said, “It’s not fair to me… Anyway, I’m mad.”

Tan Mo took a step forward, cupped Sang Ye’s face, and—without a word—pressed a kiss to his soft lips.

Snowflakes danced around them, turning the bus stop into a scene from a snow globe, trapping them in a foreign city, sealing in the moment where a man held a boy’s face and kissed him deeply.

Sang Ye’s mind went blank. He knew they were outside, surrounded by people… but then he remembered—they were in Berlin. No one knew them here.

But soon, even that thought faded. Like the snow, he melted into Tan Mo’s kiss.

…

By the time the long kiss ended, they had missed a bus.

Sang Ye had a habit of lightly pressing his lips together after a kiss. When he looked up and met Tan Mo’s smoldering gaze, his heart skipped a beat. He felt a little uncomfortable, but mostly just shy. “What…?”

“Come with me to buy something,” Tan Mo said, his deep voice laced with an inexplicable gentleness.

Sang Ye, still dazed from the kiss, asked in confusion, “What are you buying?”

“A DSLR camera.”

“…Huh?”

“I figured I should record it after all,” Tan Mo furrowed his brows slightly and said, “You were right. It’s unfair that I’m the only one who remembers what happened between us. I apologize—I didn’t consider your feelings before. Even though it requires me to appear fully n*de on camera, which I find very uncomfortable, I’m willing to make that sacrifice to ensure your right to be informed.”

Sang Ye’s mind was in chaos, but he wasn’t that clueless. “…No, no, that’s not right—”

“Let’s go.”

A taxi pulled up in front of them, and Tan Mo opened the door.

“German cameras are quite good.”

“……”

Before he knew it, Sang Ye was stuffed into the car.

…

That evening, Sang Ye followed Tan Mo back to the village, only to find the entire team waiting for him in the lobby.

The moment he appeared, everyone exaggerated their reactions as if they were moved to tears, breaking into applause.

Sang Ye stared at them, full of question marks.

Xiao Pai, no longer afraid of getting hit, rushed over and hugged him tightly. “Bai Mao, where did you go?! I was worried sick! I couldn’t even eat properly tonight, afraid something had happened to you!”

Sang Ye’s expression remained calm and unbothered. “I’m fine. I just lost my phone.”

The coach sighed in relief. “As long as you’re back, that’s all that matters…”

Hu Fuhad been eyeing the shopping bag in Tan Mo’s hand, finally speaking up. “That’s a Leica, isn’t it?”

“What?” Xiao Pai instantly switched expressions and turned to Tan Mo. “Brother, you two went shopping?”

“We didn’t shop,” Tan Mo replied coolly. “Just bought it on the way.”

Xiao Pai rummaged through the bag in Tan Mo’s hand. “Let me see… A Leica? Every photographer’s dream. What do you need this for?”

Meanwhile, Sang Ye had quietly lowered his head and was sneaking toward the elevator when Tan Mo grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back.

“For collection,” Tan Mo answered.

“Such a show-off,” Hu Fu commented. “That must’ve cost quite a bit, right?”

Xiao Pai found the receipt, did a quick currency conversion, then widened his eyes in shock. “D*mn! 130,000! The spare change alone could buy me the latest iPhone!”

“……”

Sang Ye rubbed his eyelids and hunched his head down even further.

Xiao Pai was itching to get his hands on it. “Brother, let me play with it for a bit. I’ve never used such a high-end camera before.”

Sang Ye immediately lifted his head. “You can have it—”

Tan Mo covered half of Sang Ye’s face with his large hand and took the heavy product box back from Xiao Pai with his other hand. “Personal use. Not for lending.”

Xiao Pai grumbled, “Don’t be so stingy…”

Everyone headed upstairs together. Sang Ye ran up to Xiao Pai, his eyes shining. “Wanna watch the game?”

Xiao Pai had no idea why he was suddenly so excited but nodded. “Sure.”

Sang Ye couldn’t resist sneaking a glance back to check Tan Mo’s reaction.

Tan Mo casually unlocked his room door and met Sang Ye’s gaze—but only for a second before looking away. He gave a small, subtle smirk and stepped inside.

Sang Ye: “……”

What’s that supposed to mean?

While watching the game in Xiao Pai’s room, Sang Ye still couldn’t focus. Just knowing there was a camera sitting in his own room made his face heat up. He rubbed his cheeks quickly, trying to shake off the feeling.

The match had been going on for nearly half an hour.

His phone, placed to the side, vibrated. He glanced at it, not planning to check, but in the end, he picked it up anyway.

T.: [It’s 10 o’clock. Coming back?]

Yesterday, even at 11, he hadn’t been rushed back.

Sang Ye bit his lower lip, his face tinged with a faint blush, and replied.

S.: [Haven’t even finished the first half yet.]

There was no response.

Sang Ye continued watching the game.

But fifteen minutes later, his phone vibrated again.

T.: [It’s a penalty kick now, pretty much a done deal. Coming back?]

A ticklish feeling spread through Sang Ye’s chest. He pressed his lips together to hide the smile creeping up and started typing.

S.: [Wait a little longer.]

The penalty kick was completed, and halftime began.

His phone buzzed again.

T.: [So, you’re staying there for the night, huh?]

Sang Ye had been checking his phone so frequently that even Xiao Pai shot him a suspicious look. “Who is it?”

Sang Ye quickly masked his expression, locked his phone, and looked straight ahead. “Talk.”

“What does he want?”

“…Telling me to go back.”

Xiao Pai took a sip of his beer and casually commented, “Even a girlfriend wouldn’t nag this much, would she?”

“……”

Sang Ye exhaled, his breath warm against his lips.

After sitting for a little longer, he picked up his backpack and got up. “I’m heading out.”

Xiao Pai moved his legs off the coffee table to make way. “You always leave after the first half.”

“Sleepy,” Sang Ye replied.

Xiao Pai had nothing to say to that.

As Sang Ye was at the door searching for his room key, the door swung open.

Tan Mo had already showered and changed into his sleepwear. His hair was about 80% dry, slightly damp strands resting over his eyelids. He looked softer, less cold and distant than usual.

Sang Ye’s heartbeat sped up slightly as he stepped inside.

“Finally willing to come back?” Tan Mo turned and walked into the suite.

“It’s not like I didn’t want to come back…” Sang Ye trailed behind, his words defensive yet cautious as he peeked into the bedroom.

He scanned the room. No camera in sight.

Tan Mo sat on the edge of the bed and, noticing Sang Ye’s searching gaze, asked, “Looking for the camera?”

Sang Ye instantly retracted his gaze and set his bag down. “No.”

Tan Mo leaned back slightly, propping himself up on the bed with both hands. His tone was unreadable as he asked, “You didn’t stall at Xiao Pai’s because you thought I’d turn it on, did you?”

Sang Ye tripped on the carpet, his face visibly reddening. “What does it matter to me if you turn it on? I was watching the game properly.”

But his guilty look wasn’t convincing in the slightest.

Tan Mo watched him for a long moment before letting out a quiet chuckle. “Heh.”

Sang Ye instantly flared up and looked at Tan Mo. “What?”

“What exactly is going on in your head all day?” Tan Mo narrowed his eyes slightly. “Can’t you be a little more innocent?”

“…I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sang Ye grabbed his pajamas and stomped away, deliberately raising his voice. “I’m taking a shower!”

Behind him, Tan Mo lowered his head and said, “You’re too dirty-minded.”

“……”

Sang Ye pressed his lips together in frustration and shut the bathroom door.

Bad guy!

…

Another day passed, and the losers’ bracket began.

The teams in the winners’ bracket weren’t slacking off either, as their matches were coming up soon. So, they scheduled an afternoon of scrims to size each other up.

Although the general opinion online was that Group B wasn’t as strong as Group A, every team that had made it to the top eight in their group was formidable.

For the scrims, WLG continued using their current roster.

During a fight for a school resource point, they ran into BTF.

The two teams were positioned in separate halls. Through a broken hole in the door, Sang Ye caught a glimpse of movement.

Almost simultaneously, both sides opened fire.

The enemy landed a direct hit on Sang Ye.

Of the three shots Sang Ye fired, two went through the door and hit the wall, while the last one barely grazed his opponent, shaving off a tiny bit of health.

Retreating to heal, Sang Ye had already guessed who was on the other side of that door.

With that person guarding the stairwell, a frontal assault was nearly impossible.

Before long, other teams intervened, preventing BTF and WLG from engaging further. The fight dissolved into a chaotic skirmish.

After the scrim ended, Sang Ye took off his headset and slumped onto the desk, sulking for a long time.

If luck were no longer on his side and he had to rely solely on skill to fight his way through the current top sixteen, Sang Ye suddenly felt unsure if he could make it to the very end.

That evening, while choosing his meal at the cafeteria, Sang Ye heard someone calling his name.

He turned his head and, across a few people in line, spotted Gal.

Gal squinted slightly as he smiled at him, saying nothing—just raising a finger in a seemingly friendly greeting.

Sang Ye didn’t blink, simply withdrawing his gaze and focusing back on the food displayed behind the glass.

“Sir? Sir? …”

The cafeteria worker, speaking with a heavy accent, called out to him twice.

Snapping back to reality, Sang Ye pointed at one of the dishes.

After finishing his meal, he returned to the training room for more practice. But after hours of controlling recoil, he was getting frustrated and decided to open the forums instead.

Even though the team manager had emphasized not to pay attention to the so-called analysts online, Sang Ye couldn’t resist taking a look.

He opened the forum homepage, intending to check the PUBG section, but before he could, a trending post on the front page caught his attention.

[Emotional Corner | Are all men just driven by their lower halves?]

On impulse, Sang Ye clicked on it.

The original post described a girl in a long-distance relationship who flew out to visit her boyfriend every month. However, she was confused because every visit seemed to consist solely of them staying in a hotel room together. She was wondering if that was normal.

1^st comment: [Sister, run. You’re literally just flying in for hookups.]
2^nd comment: [Sister, run!]
3^rd comment: [Long-distance relationships can be like this. It depends on how he treats you otherwise.]
4^th comment: [No need to overthink. Yes, men do think with their lower halves, but if you’re uncomfortable, just leave.]

…

Sang Ye scrolled through two pages of comments. There were all sorts of opinions—some serious, some joking, and even a few people asking unrelated personal relationship questions.

He reached for the keyboard, his fingers hesitating before curling slightly. Then, after a brief pause, he clicked into the reply box and typed:

[Hijacking this thread, not a long-distance relationship, but I have a friend…]

He stopped.

It didn’t feel specific enough.

He deleted it and continued typing.

[Hijacking this thread, not long-distance, but the person I have a crush on…]

He paused again.

Worried that people wouldn’t relate to his problem, he deleted it once more.

Just as Sang Ye was tapping at the keyboard, Yu Haotian pushed open the door and called out, “Song, coach wants to see you.”

Startled, Sang Ye hastily moved his mouse, nearly knocking over his thermos. He quickly exited the page and stood up. “Oh, okay.”

…

Not long after Sang Ye left, his phone vibrated on the desk.

Everyone else was wearing headphones, so the buzzing echoed in the room for quite a while without anyone noticing.

Xiao Pai had just finished a game when suddenly—

BANG!

The training room door swung open.

Xiao Pai flinched and looked toward the source of the noise.

It was the dead of winter, yet Tan Mo was only wearing a sweater, as if he had just rushed out of a warm indoor space without even stopping to grab a coat. Despite that, his face was chillingly cold. “Where is he?”

Xiao Pai had a rough idea of who he meant and pointed outside. “Coach… called him out.”

Tan Mo ran a hand through his hair, his expression easing just slightly as he caught his breath and stepped inside. He walked over to Sang Ye’s desk.

Sure enough, Sang Ye’s phone was still there.

Tan Mo sat down at Sang Ye’s spot for a moment to rest.

Xiao Pai was stunned. “Brother, you’re watching over Bai Mao way too closely.”

Tan Mo responded indifferently, “If he goes missing again, will you take responsibility?”

“…” Xiao Pai muttered, “How could he possibly go missing a second time?”

Just then, Hu Fu suddenly said, “The losers’ bracket results are out. Did you guys see them?”

Tan Mo hadn’t checked. “Where?”

“In the group chat.”

Tan Mo picked up his phone, but the screen was cracked so badly that it made reading messages difficult.

It didn’t feel specific enough.

He deleted it and continued typing.

[Hijacking this thread, not long-distance, but the person I have a crush on…]

He paused again.

Worried that people wouldn’t relate to his problem, he deleted it once more.

Just as Sang Ye was tapping at the keyboard, Yu Haotian pushed open the door and called out, “Song, coach wants to see you.”

Startled, Sang Ye hastily moved his mouse, nearly knocking over his thermos. He quickly exited the page and stood up. “Oh, okay.”

…

Not long after Sang Ye left, his phone vibrated on the desk.

Everyone else was wearing headphones, so the buzzing echoed in the room for quite a while without anyone noticing.

Xiao Pai had just finished a game when suddenly—

BANG!

The training room door swung open.

Xiao Pai flinched and looked toward the source of the noise.

It was the dead of winter, yet Tan Mo was only wearing a sweater, as if he had just rushed out of a warm indoor space without even stopping to grab a coat. Despite that, his face was chillingly cold. “Where is he?”

Xiao Pai had a rough idea of who he meant and pointed outside. “Coach… called him out.”

Tan Mo ran a hand through his hair, his expression easing just slightly as he caught his breath and stepped inside. He walked over to Sang Ye’s desk.

Sure enough, Sang Ye’s phone was still there.

Tan Mo sat down at Sang Ye’s spot for a moment to rest.

Xiao Pai was stunned. “Bro, you’re watching over White Hair way too closely.”

Tan Mo responded indifferently, “If he goes missing again, will you take responsibility?”

“…” Xiao Pai muttered, “How could he possibly go missing a second time?”

Just then, Huf suddenly said, “The losers’ bracket results are out. Did you guys see them?”

Tan Mo hadn’t checked. “Where?”

“In the group chat.”

Tan Mo picked up his phone, but the screen was cracked so badly that it made reading messages difficult.

He opened Sang Ye’s computer, entered the password, logged into WeChat, and clicked on the link.

The default browser popped up.

Tan Mo noticed a tab on the side titled [Emotional World | Are All Men…]

The rest of the title was cut off.

Curious about what Sang Ye had been reading, Tan Mo clicked on it. His gaze quickly scanned down the page, stopping at the most recent reply.

378L

Talk20160320:

[Hijacking this thread, not long-distance, but my boyfriend acts like a hyperactive poodle. Is that normal?]

Tan Mo: “………”

He glanced at the top right corner of the page.

[Welcome~ User: Talk20160320]

OK.

It was undeniably Sang Ye’s alt account.

Tan Mo turned to look at Hu Fu. “Let me ask you—do I seem like…”

Hu Fu looked at him. “Like what?”

Tan Mo opened his mouth but then closed it again.

Forget it.

Gotta save face.

“…Nothing.”

The ever-dignified “Flower on a High Mountain” turned back around, propped a hand against his forehead, and expressionlessly read that reply three or four more times.

…He had the urge to drag Sang Ye over, pin him in front of the computer, and show him what a real hyperactive poodle was like.

But then, his eyes lingered on the words “boyfriend” for a good ten seconds.

Reading it over and over, he licked his lower lip.

Lowering his gaze, he finally—smiled.

---

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

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Chapter 76 – The Little Boy Buying Apple.

---

Tan Mo was being kissed and licked impatiently by Sang Ye, like a little puppy. In between breaths, he asked, “Where did you learn this…?”

Sang Ye didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled Tan Mo back down, single-mindedly focused on doing what he wanted with his “God.”

However, Tan Mo had learned from past experiences and wasn’t one to fall for tricks easily. Even while kissing, he reached down to the floor, slowly feeling around for his phone.

Noticing his distraction, Sang Ye let out a dissatisfied growl. His long, slender legs lifted and hooked around the man’s waist.

Tan Mo’s breath hitched—screw the phone, trust between people is what really matters. He withdrew his hand, instead using it to cup Sang Ye’s head, messing up his soft hair.

Finally, Sang Ye settled down.

The next morning, when Sang Ye woke up, snow had already blanketed the outside world. The sunlight reflected off it, bright enough to be a little blinding.

A distant memory surfaced—an elementary school essay he had once read. He had forgotten the title, but there was a phrase in it: [Draped in silver and white.] He had copied it nearly a hundred times as punishment because he kept misspelling it.

Snowy mornings always carried a quiet stillness, as if all sounds were buried beneath the soft, rustling snowdrifts.

Sang Ye stared out the window in a daze. He knew he had drunk too much last night, but this time, he didn’t wake up with a pounding headache or dizziness. Instead, he felt an inexplicable sense of warmth and relaxation.

And today, the bed felt especially cozy.

Burying his face into the blanket, Sang Ye stretched lazily, his entire body tensing for a moment.

Then, he realized—he wasn’t wearing anything.

And then, he noticed—his back was pressed against something equally warm.

Sang Ye froze. Slowly, he turned his head.

Tan Mo lay beside him, flat on his back, one arm resting above his head, deep in sleep.

“…”

Sang Ye’s gaze drifted to the man’s exposed collarbone. Then, considering the warmth behind him…

It seemed Tan Mo wasn’t wearing anything either.

A misty haze rose in Sang Ye’s mind as his gaze drifted over the man’s side profile. He saw his long eyelashes resting gently against his skin, the slight upward curve at the outer corners of his eyes, and no signs of waking up just yet.

Back when Sang Ye used to take close-up screenshots of Tan Mo from videos and admire them on his computer, he had never imagined that one day, he would be lying this close—right next to the real thing. And worse still, neither of them was wearing anything.

Sang Ye stayed frozen for a while before suddenly sitting up, hurriedly pulling the blanket up to cover his chest.

He knew they were both men, so there was nothing to hide, yet in front of Tan Mo, he was suddenly aware of their difference in gender.

Tan Mo was a light sleeper. The movement beside him caused him to stir awake.

He opened his eyes, immediately meeting Sang Ye’s wide-eyed, shocked, and utterly confused gaze.

“…”

Tan Mo, still drowsy, licked his dry lips expressionlessly. He already had a feeling about what was coming next.

Sang Ye, flustered and panicking, peeked under the blanket.

It was clean. No suspicious marks… except for faint, scattered red traces near the inner thigh, like fallen cherry blossom petals.

A rush of heat flared across Sang Ye’s face. He was so embarrassed he wanted to shrink away, but he was determined to defend his rights. Tightening the blanket around himself, he lifted his head and, summoning all his courage, questioned Tan Mo, “What did you do to me?”

Tan Mo sighed, rubbing his eyes as if this required great patience. “Brought you back, pinned you to the bed for two hours, then gave you a bath.”

Sang Ye’s breath hitched. He couldn’t believe Tan Mo could say something like that so casually. Feeling both embarrassed and indignant, he pressed further, “H-how did you ‘play’ with me?”

“I didn’t touch your back.” Tan Mo turned over, burying his face in the pillow, his voice low and indifferent. “Used my hands. Used my mouth.”

“!!!”

The sheer amount of information was overwhelming. Sang Ye’s face turned red from his cheeks down to the base of his neck. His chest rose and fell sharply—not just from embarrassment but also from anger.

How could Tan Mo say such things so casually? He didn’t even look guilty. He didn’t even think this was a big deal. He could still sleep?!

Sleep, sleep, sleep! That’s all he knew how to do!

Sang Ye’s eyes reddened, a watery sheen forming at the corners. His voice came out hoarse as he protested, “Didn’t I tell you? When I’m drunk, you’re not supposed to… to do anything! You even agreed back then! How could you? We already talked about this—”

Tan Mo remained motionless with his eyes closed.

If he had proof, he would’ve shoved it in Sang Ye’s face and made him watch it on repeat.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been prepared.

After a while, Tan Mo asked, “If I told you that you were the one begging me, would you believe it?”

Sang Ye shot upright in an instant, not even caring about the blanket anymore. He grabbed a pillow and hurled it at Tan Mo in a fit of rage. “Not only did you take advantage of me, but now you’re slandering me too?! What kind of person do you think I am? How could I possibly do something like that?!”

Tan Mo didn’t reply. He just buried his face deeper into the pillow.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been falsely accused. He told himself he needed to get used to it.

Still fuming, Sang Ye smacked him twice more with the pillow, relentless. “How could you do this? How could you? Say something—”

Tan Mo’s dark hair was now a messy tangle. He raised a hand, covering the back of his head, his long fingers loosely curled.

Fine. Whatever you say, drama queen.

Next time, I’m setting up a tripod by the bed and recording everything.

After venting his anger, Sang Ye finally quieted down, determined to ignore Tan Mo completely.

He climbed over him, scooped up the scattered pile of clothes from the floor, pressed them to his chest, and bolted toward the bathroom.

Tan Mo turned his head, one eye peeking open lazily from the pillow.

Sang Ye hunched over slightly, clutching his clothes to himself. The snow-reflected sunlight streaming in through the window illuminated his warm, dry skin, its glow highlighting every delicate detail. The bathroom curtains were still drawn, leaving the interior dim. As he reached the door, feeling around the wall for the light switch, the shifting light traced over his form—skimming his waist, gliding down his thigh—a soft, fleeting shimmer.

Deadly.

Tan Mo threw back the blanket, got out of bed, and stepped forward.

Just as Sang Ye was about to shut the door, Tan Mo pressed against it, slipping inside.

…

Everyone got up late today. After eating, they only headed to the practice room in the afternoon.

By the time Xiao Pai and Hu Fu arrived, Sang Ye and Tan Mo were already seated.

Both were busy with their own tasks on their computers.

Sang Ye’s face was slightly flushed as he curled up in his gaming chair, his expression a little tired.

“You know you got drunk again last night, right?” Xiao Pai slid over while waiting for his computer to start, teasing Sang Ye. “I almost got scolded because of you. Next time, watch your drinking, okay? If you can’t hold your liquor, just drink less. Luckily, you were with us—imagine if you were alone outside. That’d be dangerous as hell.”

For once, Sang Ye didn’t snap back. Instead, he buried his face into his collar.

Going back was even more dangerous.

Xiao Pai’s eyes landed on Tan Mo’s phone resting on the desk, and he let out a surprised sound. “Whoa—brother, what happened to your screen?!”

Sang Ye tensed slightly, stealing a quick glance at the phone on the neighboring desk before looking away just as fast.

The damage was bad. A spiderweb-like crack spread out from the center, so severe that even swiping on the screen could be a hazard.

Tan Mo kept his eyes on his monitor, his voice calm and indifferent. “No idea which dog’s paw knocked it to the floor.”

“……”

Sang Ye straightened his posture and sat upright, his face turning an even deeper shade of red.

Xiao Pai clicked his tongue twice, not catching the hidden meaning. “Seriously, why’d you even mess with a dog in the first place?”

Tan Mo replied, “Nothing better to do.”

Sang Ye cut in, “Your computer’s ready.”

Xiao Pai glanced back. “Oh,” he said before retreating to his seat.

Since the group stage had just ended, everyone was feeling more relaxed.

During dinner, Xiao Pai was scrolling through Twitter and came across photos of the Korean team in front of the Berlin Wall. He turned to Yu Haotian with an idea: “Hey, can we go out and have some fun too? Just for a day. I mean, we came all the way here—we can’t just leave without sightseeing, right?”

“Know your place—you’re here to compete,” Yu Haotian said. “We’re only a quarter of the way through the tournament, and your mind’s already wandering? Are you that confident you’ll take the championship?”

Xiao Pai pouted and kept scrolling through social media, mumbling under his breath, “Even the workhorses back home don’t have it this rough… You gotta balance work and rest… So rigid.”

Yu Haotian wasn’t being rigid—he was just cautious about any unexpected accidents.

Even if the chances were low, his players were invaluable assets. A single injury could be disastrous. So he’d rather keep them cooped up than risk anything going wrong.

After a few more practice matches that night, everyone turned in early.

Sang Ye made his way to the fifth floor. The closer he got to his room, the faster his heartbeat became as memories of the morning in the bathroom resurfaced.

He had no recollection of what happened last night, but he had been fully conscious this morning. There was no room for denial.

Maybe it was embarrassment. Maybe it was the lingering sense that Tan Mo had somehow seduced him. Either way, he wasn’t ready to back down.

Just before reaching his room, Sang Ye sped up and nudged Xiao Pai. “Wanna watch the game together?”

Xiao Pai, always up for a good time, immediately agreed. “Sure! I’ll call E Lan too!”

As they chatted, they casually strolled past Room 506 as if nothing had happened.

Tan Mo glanced at Sang Ye’s retreating figure, then lowered his head to swipe his key card. His voice was cool and indifferent. “Need me to bring you a blanket later?”

Sang Ye’s neck stiffened slightly. He didn’t turn around, just raised his voice a little. “I’ll be back to sleep.”

Tan Mo pushed the door open. “Let yourself in.”

Sang Ye pressed his lips together, his face a bit tense. “Got it.”

During the match, Sang Ye wasn’t particularly focused. At the start, Xiao Pai handed him a beer, but he waved it away.

He sat in front of the TV, resting his chin on his hands. When the game reached its climactic match point, the whole room erupted with excitement.

Xiao Pai and Hu Fu clenched their fists and jumped up, shouting, “Bullshit! Refund our tickets!”

But Sang Ye remained eerily calm.

His eyes were on the screen, but it was as if he wasn’t really watching at all.

At halftime, Sang Ye picked up his phone and checked the time—11:00 PM.

His gaze unconsciously drifted toward the various app notification banners.

WeChat was flooded with daily messages, stacking on top of each other and blocking the lower notifications.

Sang Ye wasn’t sure if Tan Mo had messaged him.

Had he urged him to come back midway?

Then again, maybe he hadn’t reached out at all—after all, he had already considered bringing him a blanket.

Thinking of this, Sang Ye frowned and tossed his phone aside.

But barely two seconds later, he picked it up again and swiped open WeChat.

Just in case.

The app opened.

There was no red notification dot next to the pinned chat. Their conversation was still stuck on the messages from two days ago.

Sang Ye took a deep breath, locked his phone, and turned his attention back to the TV.

Xiao Pai rushed out of the bathroom in a hurry. “It’s starting! It’s starting!”

Suddenly, Sang Ye stood up, grabbed his backpack, and said, “I’m heading out.”

Xiao Pai blinked. “Huh?”

Hu Fu asked, “You’re not staying? There’s still half a game left.”

Orlan also looked up at him.

Everyone was a bit confused as to why Sang Ye was leaving in the middle of the match.

Sang Ye walked toward the door. “I’m tired. You guys watch.”

“Oh, okay. Take care.”

The cheers from the live broadcast erupted on the TV, quickly drawing everyone’s attention back to the game.

Sang Ye was never particular about where he placed his things. He stood outside Room 506, rummaging through his backpack for a long time before finally finding his key card buried at the bottom.

Swiping the card, he stepped inside. The sound of the game played in the background, and the room was dimly lit—only Tan Mo’s side of the room had a light on.

Sang Ye entered and casually tossed his backpack onto the floor.

Tan Mo glanced at him briefly before turning his eyes back to the TV.

As Sang Ye walked past, he glanced at the screen and felt a flicker of irritation.

But when he thought about it, there was no real reason to be mad. He was the one who had invited Xiao Pai to watch the game together. If Tan Mo wanted to watch it alone in the room, that was his choice. What—was he not allowed to enjoy a match in peace?

Still, Sang Ye was in no mood to be reasonable. All he could think was that Tan Mo clearly wanted to watch the game too, yet he hadn’t asked him to join—meaning he simply didn’t want to deal with him.

Sang Ye sat on the bed and started taking off his shoes.

Tan Mo suddenly spoke. “Are you still watching?”

Sang Ye pulled off his socks as well, not even looking up. “No.”

Tan Mo asked, “Then will it bother you if I watch?”

Sang Ye replied, “Go ahead.”

The room filled with the sounds of the TV—cheers, applause, and the commentator’s excited narration.

Sang Ye stood up, ready to take a shower.

Tan Mo blinked and looked at him. “Why can’t you just admit it?”

Sang Ye happened to stop at the foot of Tan Mo’s bed, turning just in time to block the TV screen. He raised a brow. “Admit what? I didn’t do anything.”

Tan Mo let out a sharp laugh, sitting up in bed. He reached for his phone and flipped it over, tilting his face up to look at Sang Ye. “Then how do you think my phone got shattered? You think that had nothing to do with you?”

Sang Ye’s breath hitched. He blinked, his voice suddenly weak—but his attitude remained stubborn. “That… obviously happened because you tried to take pictures while doing those things! I didn’t agree, so I struggled, and the phone fell. You had bad intentions—how is that my fault?”

“……”

Tan Mo looked at Sang Ye for a long moment before suddenly laughing.

With the way Sang Ye described it, he sounded more and more like a complete perv*rt.

Sang Ye lifted his chin slightly, frowning. “What are you laughing at?”

Tan Mo replied, “You got it wrong.”

Sang Ye was furious. “And who’s the one refusing to admit it now?”

Tan Mo said, “I wasn’t trying to take pictures—I was trying to record a video.”

Sang Ye: “…… You… Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“You really are a poor, delicate little flower,” Tan Mo muttered, realizing he couldn’t win an argument against Sang Ye. He decided to drop the subject entirely, tossing his phone onto the nightstand. Lying back down, he added, “From now on, this benevolent saint won’t be saving you anymore. You’re on your own.”

“……”

Hearing the word “saint” triggered a vague memory in Sang Ye’s mind. After a moment, he recalled that he had once made a wish to a bodhisattva.

Sang Ye flicked his towel and walked toward the bathroom. “What kind of ‘saint’ acts like you?”

Tan Mo turned off the light on his side of the room and switched on the bedside lamp on Sang Ye’s side, getting ready for sleep.

Just as the bathroom door closed, it was yanked open again.

Sang Ye stuck his head out, unwilling to back down. “You’re such a p*rv!”

BANG—!

The door slammed shut.

“……”

Tan Mo propped himself up and glanced toward the bathroom, biting his lower lip.

How did he end up liking such a dramatic little troublemaker?

The next morning, when Sang Ye woke up, Tan Mo was still asleep.

Ever since his stress response episodes, Tan Mo had struggled with poor sleep quality, making it difficult for him to wake up in the morning.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Sang Ye watched Tan Mo’s sleeping face for a while. Then, rubbing his own face, he caught sight of the phone on the bedside table—its screen shattered like a spiderweb.

There were no scheduled practice matches between teams that day.

Sang Ye went to ask Yu Haotian for leave, saying he wanted to go out for three hours.

Yu Haotian asked, “Where are you going?”

“Just wandering around nearby,” Sang Ye replied.

Yu Haotian was still hesitant. “Wait a bit, I’ll check with your captain.”

Sang Ye stuffed both hands into the pockets of his coat and buried his face in his collar. “He’s still sleeping.”

“……”

In Yu Haotian’s mind, a poetic phrase instantly popped up: “Spring nights are too short, the sun is already high, from now on, the emperor neglects court affairs.”

He had no words.

In the end, he approved Sang Ye’s leave.

Sang Ye took his phone and set out.

Since he didn’t know how to take public transportation in a foreign country, he waited for a taxi outside the residential area.

Eventually, a taxi arrived. After getting in, Sang Ye showed the driver the address on his phone’s map.

The driver spoke a little English and suddenly understood. “Apple, Apple! Ok, Ok.”

After nearly thirty minutes, the driver stopped at the entrance of a pedestrian street and pointed Sang Ye in a direction.

Following the street, Sang Ye finally arrived at a brightly lit and spacious Apple Store.

Although Sang Ye didn’t speak the language, he had a translator app on his phone. Besides, buying something was simple—he just needed to pick the model he wanted and pay with his card at the counter, requiring minimal conversation.

Sang Ye entered the Apple Store.

A sales associate wearing earphones greeted him with a smile, speaking in a language he didn’t understand.

Sang Ye responded in Chinese, “I don’t understand. Just ignore me.”

A question mark practically appeared above the associate’s head.

Sang Ye walked straight to the smartphone section and spotted the latest models.

Looking at the price tags, he picked the most expensive black one and pointed at it.

The associate finally understood and smiled, making an “OK” gesture.

Sang Ye reached for his phone to pay.

He checked one pocket, then the other.

Then his pants pockets.

His expression turned panicked.

Where was his phone?!

…

Tan Mo didn’t wake up until after one in the afternoon.

Sang Ye wasn’t there. He was used to that.

Tan Mo sluggishly got himself ready, then slowly made his way to the cafeteria. After eating, he initially planned to head back to his room, but after hesitating at the entrance, he changed direction and went to the gaming room instead.

Even if Sang Ye was a troublemaker, if he was upset, wouldn’t Tan Mo still have to go and coax him?

But when Tan Mo arrived, he was surprised to find the gaming room empty.

He didn’t even bother going inside. Leaning against the wall, he pulled out his phone and messaged Xiao Pai.

T.: [Where are you?]

3.1415926: [In my room, why?]

T.: [Alone?]

3.1415926: [Hu Fu is here too.]

T.: [What about E Lan?]

3.1415926: [He went back to his room after eating. Are you looking for him?]

Tan Mo finally stopped beating around the bush.

T.: [Is Sang Ye with you guys?]

3.1415926: [No, haven’t seen him all morning.]

Tan Mo straightened up and immediately called Sang Ye.

The phone rang over ten times, but no one answered.

He called again, but this time, the call was declined.

Tan Mo frowned.

Sang Ye wasn’t the type to use silent treatment, no matter how upset he was. He would never just hang up like that.

Tan Mo called again.

This time, the phone was turned off.

Tan Mo went to find Yu Haotian and got straight to the point. “Where is he?”

Yu Haotian was startled by Tan Mo’s rare tone of irritation. He quickly realized who he was referring to and replied, “He took a three-hour leave and went out.”

“When did he leave?”

“Sometime after ten in the morning.”

“Where to?”

“He didn’t say.”

Tan Mo gave Yu Haotian a look that practically screamed, Are you serious? He didn’t have time to argue about how reckless it was to let a player go out without knowing their destination. Instead, he simply said, “Call the police.”

“Huh?” Yu Haotian glanced at the time on his phone and felt that Tan Mo was overreacting. “It’s only been… not even four hours. And think about it, he still needs time to get back.”

Tan Mo turned away, his patience at its limit. He gritted his teeth as he pulled the door open. “Call the police.”

Yu Haotian hesitated for a second, then his stomach dropped as he realized the gravity of the situation. He jumped up and dialed the emergency number.

…

After the snowfall, the temperature in Berlin hovered around freezing in November.

Sang Ye sat on the steps beside the Apple store, his head buried in his arms, body curled up, feeling utterly hopeless.

There were many display phones and computers inside the store, but they were all set to German, and he didn’t know how to switch them to Chinese. The store’s Wi-Fi also had restrictions, preventing him from downloading a translation app.

He spent a long time trying to communicate with the store employees, but their expressions became increasingly wary. Even their polite smiles faded, leaving him no choice but to leave in embarrassment.

Once outside, Sang Ye retraced his steps from the drop-off point, searching along the street in hopes that his phone had simply fallen somewhere. But after combing the area seven or eight times, the faint hope in his heart dwindled until it finally shattered.

He returned to the entrance of the Apple store, unsure of where to find the police or who to ask for help. Stranded in a foreign country without knowing the language, without a single familiar face in sight, the initial panic faded into an overwhelming sense of isolation and helplessness.

As the afternoon wore on and the sky darkened after 2 PM, the feeling of abandonment grew even stronger.

Sang Ye sat by the entrance, enduring the bitter wind, hoping he might spot a fellow Chinese person who could help. But an hour passed, then two, then three… and the street remained as unfamiliar as ever.

He regretted not telling Yu Haotian that he was going to the Apple store. He had wanted to secretly buy a phone as a gift for Talk, so he hadn’t told anyone. Now, even if they realized he was missing and called the police, it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

A cold gust of wind blew past, and Sang Ye sniffled, tucking his fingers deeper into his sleeves. His chest felt tight.

At that moment, he suddenly missed Tan Mo terribly.

If Talk were here, this would never have happened.

If Talk were here, Sang Ye could bury himself in his arms—so warm that even the strongest winds wouldn’t make him feel cold.

Sang Ye thought about the warmth of Tan Mo’s body and the familiar scent on him.

The more he thought about it, the more his eyes burned with tears. For the past few hours, he hadn’t felt the urge to cry—only anxious, unbearably anxious. But now, he suddenly wanted to let his tears fall.

If he had another chance, he would never have left the room this morning. Not only that, he wouldn’t have even gotten out of bed. He would have stayed under the covers, hugging a pillow and curling up in Tan Mo’s blanket, refusing to go anywhere.

But another gust of icy wind swept past, pulling him from his warm daydream back into the harsh, bone-chilling reality. Sang Ye raised his hand and wiped his eyes.

The little match girl must have been really cold too.

Just then, the wind carried a scent—cool, damp, and clean, like the deep sea.

For a moment, Sang Ye thought the cold had made him hallucinate. But then, a pair of gray-and-white sneakers appeared before him, attached to a pair of long, straight legs.

Sang Ye lifted his head.

He suddenly understood why the little match girl wanted to follow the vision of her grandmother in the fire’s glow.

Tan Mo exhaled, his breath forming a faint white mist in the cold air, his gaze fixed on the boy sitting on the steps.

The teenager’s small face was pale from the cold, his eyes red-rimmed, dark irises shimmering with unshed tears. His lips trembled twice before he pressed them together.

Sang Ye looked up at Tan Mo, awkwardly blinking his left eye shut as he hoarsely explained, “I lost my phone… I didn’t know where to go…”

Tan Mo bent down.

Sang Ye finally pouted, opening his stiff, frozen arms, silently asking for a hug.

But Tan Mo ignored his plea. Instead, he grabbed Sang Ye by the collar and yanked him up from the ground—so forcefully that Sang Ye had to stand on his tiptoes just to keep his balance.

“……”

Tan Mo pulled him close, his voice deep and stern. “Sang Ye, you had the guts to run off—why couldn’t you find your way back?”

Sang Ye took two deep breaths, but suddenly, his throat tightened, and tears welled up in his eyes. “You’re yelling at me—”

Tan Mo let go.

As soon as Sang Ye’s heels touched the ground, he reached into Tan Mo’s open coat, wrapping his arms around his waist. His entire body burrowed into Tan Mo’s embrace, sniffling non-stop and rubbing his tear-streaked face against him.

Tan Mo closed his eyes briefly, his expression darkening.

When had he ever been harsh?

He hadn’t even started scolding him yet.

How did he end up falling for such a crybaby?

But right now, no matter how frustrated he felt, all the words he wanted to say had to be swallowed down.

---

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

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Chapter 75 – God.

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Tan Mo tossed the bottles and jars onto the bed and casually sat at the edge, his hands resting on the mattress between his legs. He held back a smile as he looked at Sang Ye.

When Tan Chunshan was just four or five months old, he had done the same thing—crawling into Tan Mo’s open suitcase while he was packing.

Back then, Tan Mo would pick up the little golden retriever and take him out. But now, he didn’t want to pick up Sang Ye.

—Because he didn’t want him to come out.

“I’m not going back home, just moving to the next room. It’s literally a few steps away.” Tan Mo asked, “Why are you so clingy?”

Sang Ye ignored him, nearly done peeling off the layer from his meal card.

Tan Mo stared at him for a while, his heart melting. “Come out already.”

“……”

“Aren’t you tired from squatting?”

“……”

“Puppy, what are you thinking?”

Sang Ye finally took a deep breath and let it out shakily, clearly still upset.

He flipped his meal card over and furiously continued peeling at it, his tone sharp and accusatory: “I should be the one asking you that!”

“Didn’t I already tell you?” Tan Mo said. “I have trouble sleeping at night. Moving rooms will keep me from disturbing you.”

“Liar!”

“……”

“I already told you I don’t mind, so why are you making the decision for me? I wasn’t even back yet, and you were already packing…” The more Sang Ye spoke, the more his chest heaved, and the redder his face became. “You’re lying! You just don’t want me to see you having trouble sleeping!”

Tan Mo lowered his head, running his fingers along the soft fabric of the bedsheet. After a long pause, he said, “Wouldn’t it be better if we both had it easier?”

Sang Ye suddenly slammed his meal card onto the floor, wrapped his arms around his legs, and buried his face in his knees.

—He was truly angry.

Just then, the phone in his pocket started vibrating.

He ignored it. Didn’t even feel like checking.

Sang Ye knew he was making a big deal out of this, but Tan Mo making decisions on his own like this made him feel shut out.

If Tan Mo needed a nightlight, he could sleep with the light on.

If Tan Mo needed silence, he could stay completely quiet.

Whatever Tan Mo needed, they could have talked about it. So why agree to share a room and then suddenly change his mind? Why decide to move out without a word?

If Tan Mo said it was because Sang Ye was disturbing his sleep, he might have accepted it.

But “I don’t want to disturb you”—what kind of bullsh*t excuse was that?

Is there something the team doctor can see but he can’t?

Sang Ye wasn’t afraid to go through things with Tan Mo, nor was he afraid of difficulties. But when Tan Mo said that separating would make things easier for both of them, it made him feel terrible.

Tan Mo bent down and picked up the meal card at his feet. On it was Sang Ye’s ID photo—casually taken, but still unable to hide his delicate features.

“I was thinking…” Tan Mo brushed his fingers over the overexposed pale face in the photo and said, “My symptoms aren’t something I can control. If you see me in a bad state, you’ll worry, too. So, I have to pretend I’m fine…”

“Why do you have to pretend?” Sang Ye’s voice was muffled, yet he interrupted fiercely. “Just let me worry about you.”

Tan Mo looked up at him. “You—”

“If something’s wrong with you and I don’t know about it, just going on with my life as if nothing’s happening,” Sang Ye said, “do you think I’d be happy or feel at ease? Then what difference would I be from anyone else? Weren’t you the one who said you wanted me to always be there when you’re scared? And now… now you’re doing this… Liar, you’re just messing with me…”

The boy’s usually clear voice grew smaller and smaller until, in the end, it was filled with grievance.

Tan Mo’s eyelids twitched hard. Then he narrowed his eyes slightly as a dull pain spread through his chest.

What he felt wasn’t just the boy’s burning sincerity but something even deeper—a kind of unwavering determination to hold him up no matter what.

Perhaps this was why Sang Ye could always make him feel safe.

Tan Mo tucked Sang Ye’s meal card into his pocket and said in a low voice, “I won’t move out. Come out now.”

But Sang Ye suddenly straightened his back, his flushed neck stubbornly stiff. “No, you have to move. Move right now. I’m going to sit here and watch you leave.”

Even as he spoke so harshly, he still clung tightly to the suitcase, showing no intention of actually coming out.

Tan Mo bit his lower lip, reached for his phone, and aimed it at Sang Ye. “Fine, then. Stay in there. I’ll just ask the internet for advice—how do you deal with a puppy stuck in a suitcase?”

Before he even finished speaking, the sound of rapid click, click shutter snaps rang out.

“!” Sang Ye was horrified. He shouted, “Stop taking pictures!” as he scrambled to climb out of the suitcase.

However, in his desperation to claim his territory inside the suitcase, he had curled himself up too tightly. Now, he couldn’t stretch out his legs properly and was embarrassingly stuck, flailing in panic.

Tan Mo didn’t help him at all. Instead, he pressed a hand on Sang Ye’s head, holding him in place while snapping a few more photos.

Sang Ye was on the verge of tears. “Stop taking pictures! If I get out, you’re done for!”

Tan Mo chuckled lightly, not even looking up as he let go of Sang Ye. He quickly tapped away on his phone, then tossed it aside. “Done. Now we wait for replies.”

Sang Ye stopped struggling, his face flushed red. “Who did you send it to?”

Tan Mo said, “The vast Weibo community.”

“…” Sang Ye felt his breath catch, his energy drained. He slumped back into the suitcase, looking utterly defeated. “You’re finished.”

“I was finished a long time ago.” Tan Mo crouched down beside the suitcase, leaning in closer. His voice dropped to a teasing murmur. “The moment I met you, I was done for.”

Sang Ye shivered as if his HP had been fully restored. He turned his head sharply, only to lock eyes with Tan Mo’s peach blossom-shaped gaze, which was brimming with amusement.

It was unbearably cheesy, but that subtle, lingering atmosphere between them wrapped around them again, inescapable.

Sang Ye’s gaze flickered down three times in quick succession, barely brushing over Tan Mo’s lips before darting away each time.

Tan Mo felt an itch spread in his heart from the boy’s restless glances. He leaned in a little closer. “If you keep hesitating, I’m going to start working.”

“How am I supposed to escape…” Sang Ye’s long lashes lowered, casting a fan-shaped shadow under his eyes. His face was flushed as he muttered softly, “You could at least get me out of the suitcase first…”

“Haven’t tried this position before.” Tan Mo braced one hand against the cabinet door beside Sang Ye, leaning in even more.

Sang Ye’s lashes quivered in panic. His rising and falling chest suddenly froze for a second.

—BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Bai Mao! Are you done yet?! Everyone’s waiting for you downstairs!”

Xiao Pai violently pounded on the door from outside.

“……”

“……”

The two of them were just a fraction of a centimeter apart, but in an instant, whatever atmosphere had built up between them was completely shattered.

Their eyes met.

Sang Ye swallowed quietly.

Tan Mo moved his hand to the suitcase lid. “Let’s just move out and live somewhere else. I can’t take this anymore.”

“……”

…

There were a few noises from inside the room.

Xiao Pai waited outside for a while longer before the door finally opened.

Tan Mo stepped out with an indifferent expression, but his brows and eyes carried a colder edge than usual.

Xiao Pai didn’t notice anything off and greeted him as usual. “Brother, coming to eat with us?”

“Yeah,” Tan Mo replied. “Do I need your permission?”

“???”

Xiao Pai felt like his brother was being extra argumentative today.

Behind Tan Mo, Sang Ye followed with his head lowered. Even so, the redness of his cheeks and ears was still painfully obvious.

“If you’re that hot, just take off a couple layers. You won’t freeze to death.” Xiao Pai rolled his eyes, then asked, “Why didn’t you answer your phone just now?”

Only then did Sang Ye remember to pull his phone out from his jacket pocket.

Sure enough, there were two missed calls and several messages in the group chat urging him to hurry up.

…Well, when he was curled up in that suitcase, there was no way he could have reached his phone.

Sang Ye’s expression was a little stiff. “Didn’t see it.”

Xiao Pai sighed. “You’re not even excited about food? Stop dawdling.”

“……”

After everyone met up downstairs, they headed toward the cafeteria.

Since the snowy roads were slippery, Xiao Pai handed one arm over to Hu Fu for support while he scrolled through his phone.

Not long after, he suddenly froze mid-scroll, then whipped his head around to glare furiously at the people walking in the back.

“While we were all waiting downstairs for you, you and my brother were playing around in the room?!”

“……”

Sang Ye slipped, but Tan Mo caught him just in time.

“What do you mean, playing around?” Yu Haotian looked back at them in confusion, then blurted out, “What kind of playing?”

Tan Mo stared at him. “……”

While sitting in the restaurant, Sang Ye finally had a moment to check his phone. His notifications were flooded with mentions, and soon he saw Tan Mo’s latest Weibo post.

It was still that ridiculously ugly profile picture, as if it was meant to be a joke.

wlg-Talk V:

[What do you do when this happens while packing? Waiting for answers, urgent.]

[Image] x2

The first photo was taken before Sang Ye could even react. The white-haired boy was crouched in the corner of the suitcase, gripping his knees, his eyelashes lowered, cheeks flushed red. Even through the screen, his defiant expression made it obvious he was sulking.

The second photo showed a slender hand pressing down on the boy’s head. He was tilting his face up toward the camera, on the verge of tears, his expression flustered and embarrassed.

The post had been up for only fifteen minutes, but the comment section had already exploded. The likes had surpassed ten thousand, and, surprisingly, the number of comments had already exceeded the likes.

[I know this one! I know this one! Every time I go on a trip, my cat climbs into my suitcase because it wants to come with me! From this angle, Fu Gui really looks like a pure white ragdoll cat!!! So gorgeous!]

[I have to disagree with the top comment. Clearly, the one in the suitcase is a white golden retriever.]

[AAAAAHHHH!! God Tan updates Weibo once in a millennium, and when he does, it’s boyfriend romance content! I’m drowning in sweetness!]

[The solution is simple: ship him to me, I’ll take care of him. [doge]]

[Steps to solve this: 1. Pick him up. 2. Throw him on the bed. 3. Wreck him. That’ll tame him real quick.]

Sang Ye’s breathing tightened. Any comment that encouraged Tan Mo to [wreck him,] he reported without hesitation.

During dinner, while the others were chatting, Sang Ye muttered under his breath, “Why did you have to post on Weibo… Everyone’s laughing at me…”

Tan Mo continued eating, eyes lowered, as if he hadn’t heard.

Sang Ye wasn’t actually upset—he was just complaining for the sake of it.

After a while, he finally heard Tan Mo respond in a calm voice, “I couldn’t help it.”

Sang Ye froze mid-scoop. “What?”

Tan Mo dabbed his lips with a napkin, picked up his glass of water, and took a sip. Through the floor-to-ceiling window, he glanced outside.

It was snowing again.

Under the dark night sky, soft white snowflakes danced freely. The streetlights cast a warm glow, illuminating the grass, now dusted with a layer of sugar-like frost.

His voice was low, just enough to stay unheard by the others still chatting across the table.

“Because you were too cute, I wanted everyone to see.”

Sang Ye blinked in confusion. “Huh?” Twice.

He had heard others call him cute before, and it never fazed him. He just brushed it off.

But when Tan Mo said it, it made his heart flutter—not just out of embarrassment but with a subtle sweetness, too.

Tan Mo glanced at Sang Ye before lowering his eyes again, using his fork to poke at the broccoli on his plate.

“Though, I still think it was kind of a d*mb thing to do.”

Sang Ye: “……”

“But I wanted the likes,” Tan Mo said. “I wasn’t sharing—I was showing off. I wanted everyone to be jealous of me… because I have Sang Ye, and they don’t.”

Sang Ye’s face turned bright red as he lowered it toward his plate. “I wasn’t blaming you… You don’t have to explain it like that… Just… just eat.”

Tan Mo lowered his gaze, lips curving into a faint smile.

He wasn’t teasing Sang Ye—he was telling the truth.

In the past, Tan Mo never understood why people would post photos and little moments of their boyfriends or girlfriends on social media. He used to think it was foolish—just live your life, why show off?

Now, he understood.

Because sometimes, you really just can’t help it.

…

Two days later, the top eight teams from Group A were announced.

Catch22 failed to make it into the top eight and would have to compete in the upcoming loser’s bracket matches.

On video platforms and forums, the wave of mockery started once again.

“What’s there to mock?” Xiao Pai, though young, saw things clearly. He closed the messy barrage of comments on the screen. “That’s just how group stages work—five matches a day, with each team only playing fifteen matches in total. Luck plays at least half the role. I’ve seen some teams that aren’t as strong as Catch22, yet they made it to the top eight simply because they got favorable circles. But it’s not something we can just openly say.”

Hu Fu nodded in agreement. “Catch22 doesn’t have any major issues. They just got stuck with disaster zones and lost a couple of rounds. They’ll definitely make a comeback in the loser’s bracket.”

Sang Ye, however, wasn’t as optimistic. He remained silent.

This was his first time leading a team, and the pressure was already heavy. Now that Catch22 had failed to make the top eight, it felt like a wake-up call hammering in his mind.

If they ended up with bad circles in tomorrow’s match and collapsed, WLG could face the same fate.

Sang Ye glanced at WLG’s current ranking in Group B—fifth place.

One wrong move, and they could drop out of the top eight.

Anxiously, he bit his fingernails.

That night, after showering, Sang Ye put on his pajamas, knelt on his bed facing the window, closed his eyes, and pressed his hands together in prayer.

So when Tan Mo stepped out of the bathroom, the first thing he heard was Sang Ye mumbling, “…This humble believer is willing to trade Talk’s ten years of romantic luck in exchange for a divine circle that will get us into the winner’s bracket… Thank you, God…”

“……”

Tan Mo pulled the towel off his head.

‘Did this ‘humble believer’ even ask for my opinion first?’

…

The second day marked the final battle of Group B’s group stage.

Over the past few days, Tan Mo had been receiving treatment from the team doctor, so he couldn’t be there in person, but he planned to catch up on the recordings later.

For the second day of Group B’s matches, Tan Mo had pulled Sang Ye along to watch, using the opportunity to review the gameplay with him in real time.

Even though Sang Ye had prayed to the God the night before, he was still restless in the half-hour leading up to the match. His fingers felt icy cold, so he clutched the hand warmer that Tan Mo had given him before they set out, keeping it warm inside his pocket.

The coach noticed something and said, “Don’t be nervous. No matter what happens, there’s always someone to back you up.”

“I’m not nervous.” Sang Ye frowned slightly. “I don’t need Talk to clean up after me.”

The coach was used to Sang Ye’s stubbornness by now. He also knew how strong-willed he was and that he wasn’t the type to easily crack under pressure, so he let it go.

On their way to the stage, WLG ran into Xing Xing, Fool, and the others who had just arrived at the venue, separated only by a yellow security line.

The pink-haired youth waved at Sang Ye. “Good luck, Song!”

Xing Xing was usually too shy to speak in front of others, but when it came to Sang Ye, he always got excited and even raised his voice—like a little fanboy.

Sang Ye coolly tilted his chin at Xing Xing in acknowledgment.

At that moment—

A mocking imitation echoed from behind: “Gooood luck, Song~”

Xing Xing immediately shrank back, hiding behind Fool.

Lu Qikai strutted over with his chest puffed out, while Li Junxian, grinning playfully, walked beside him—the one who had just mimicked Xing Xing’s voice.

Lu Qikai followed up on Li Junxian’s taunt, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “See you in the loser’s bracket~”

It was an obvious jab at Catch22’s failure to make it into Group A’s top eight.

Fool remained unfazed. Players like him and Tan Mo, who had been around for a while, had a solid grasp of every team’s strengths in their division. Their mentality was steady, and they wouldn’t be easily provoked.

Ignoring Lu Qikai, Fool simply greeted Sang Ye before leading his team away.

As Xing Xing left, he couldn’t help but glance back at Sang Ye, still worried.

Just then, Xiao Pai was suddenly bumped from behind.

“Eh? What the—” Xiao Pai stumbled forward.

Lu Qikai passed by and flashed him a smile. “Sorry, the hallway’s too narrow.”

“……”

Narrow my a*s! Is he blind?!

Xiao Pai was fuming but didn’t dare to retaliate. He could only swallow the frustration. If he had Lu Qikai’s build, he would have absolutely slammed back into him without hesitation.

Sang Ye looked at Lu Qikai.

Lu Qikai strolled up beside him, raised both hands in mock innocence, and said, “Why are you looking at me? It wasn’t on purpose.”

Sang Ye replied coolly, “Oh, really?”

“Really—” Lu Qikai suddenly smirked, glanced around, and lowered his voice. “And if it wasn’t? There’s no referee here, no cameras. What are you going to do, like last time…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Sang Ye suddenly shoved him—hard.

Though Sang Ye was lean, his body was packed with raw, reckless energy. His speed and strength combined were enough to send the burly Lu Qikai crashing into the wall. The force of the push even made Sang Ye’s equipment bag, slung over one shoulder, slip down to his elbow.

Lu Qikai had been walking normally and hadn’t expected an attack. His foot twisted awkwardly as he stumbled into the wall, standing there in a daze for a full two seconds.

Li Junxian, who had been standing against the wall, immediately stiffened, his face blank with silence, too afraid to move.

Sang Ye was about to step forward again, but Xiao Pai and E Lan quickly grabbed him from both sides to hold him back.

Xiao Pai panicked. “Bai Mao, don’t! It’s not worth it! Let’s go!”

“You… You, you—!” Lu Qikai was so shocked he could barely form a sentence. He wanted to accuse Sang Ye of provoking a fight, to report him! To get him disqualified!

But then, as he glanced around, he suddenly snapped back to reality.

There was no referee. No cameras.

“……”

Lu Qikai instantly felt like he had swallowed a mouthful of bitter medicine.

He had thought that no matter how hot-headed Sang Ye was, he wouldn’t risk his professional career.

Sang Ye adjusted his bag and, before leaving, warned, “Try touching my teammates again and see what happens.”

Xiao Pai froze for a second, then suddenly tilted his head back and let out a silent “Wah!” as if on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with emotion.

Having someone stand up for him felt incredible!

Bai Mao was amazing!

Ever since Bai Mao joined WLG, their team had never suffered a silent loss again!`

…

The final day of the group stage had officially begun.

Perhaps provoked by the previous incident, Lu Qikai stormed into P City in the first match, diving straight into the contested drop zone.

Xiao Pai cursed. “Is he insane?”

The group stage rankings didn’t matter much—no matter how high a team placed, the goal was simply to qualify.

NSN was currently in second place, a solid twenty points ahead of WLG. Their position was practically secured, so even if they threw one game, it wouldn’t be a big deal.

But WLG was in a different situation. Sitting at fifth place, their lead over the teams below them wasn’t significant. They couldn’t afford to lose even a single round.

Now, with NSN suddenly contesting their drop spot, WLG had no way to avoid conflict. They had no choice but to fight.

Adding to the pressure was a Thai team also caught in the mix.

During the summer tournament, Sang Ye had been repeatedly harassed by Li Junxian, which had frustrated him to no end. Seizing on that weakness, Li Junxian was now executing a targeted strategy against him.

With just one minute left before the zone closed, the three teams found themselves at a standstill. Then, all hell broke loose.

E Lan, positioned inside a building, managed to eliminate one of the Thai players. But in doing so, he exposed his location and was immediately knocked down by Li Junxian.

Sang Ye was in the same room as E Lan, holding his position in a corner. He urged, “Crawl over to the fridge.”

Just then, footsteps echoed from the nearby staircase.

E Lan warned, “Three incoming.”

“Besides Shine, who we’ve got locked down here, the rest of NSN is pushing in,” Xiao Pai reported. “Bai Mao, hold them off for a bit. Hu Fu and I are having trouble moving up from our side.”

Sang Ye didn’t respond. There was no way to help E Lan for now. Instead, he seized the opportunity to reposition behind a protruding load-bearing wall.

Commentator A grew excited. “NSN is determined to eliminate Song and E Lan. If WLG loses these two assault players, even if they manage to escape P City, they’ll be severely weakened. It’s a three-versus-one situation—NSN is charging in recklessly. Song won’t be able to hold out. There’s no suspense here. The only question is whether he can pick up a couple of kills before going down.”

As soon as the commentator finished speaking, Li Junxian reached the top of the stairs.

Before he could even kick the door open, a burst of three bullets tore through the hole in the damaged door, firing straight at him.

Commentator A: “One down! But Kay and Lulu are going all in and pushing into the building!”

It all happened in an instant.

The moment the door swung open, Sang Ye quickly backed up, circling around the load-bearing wall to the other side.

Lulu, who was leading the charge, fired wildly but missed. He and Lu Qikai split up, flanking Sang Ye from both sides of the wall for a full-on pincer attack.

Lulu was the first to peek out from the edge of the wall—Sang Ye hit him with three shotgun blasts.

Sang Ye didn’t even have time to check the kill feed or confirm if he had knocked Lulu down. He immediately turned and took cover behind the fridge, but Lu Qikai’s spray still chipped away half his health.

Sensing an opportunity, Lu Qikai pressed forward aggressively. Sang Ye used the fridge door as cover, peeking out to return fire.

[WLG-Song has eliminated…]

Commentator B: “A one-versus-three! He’s taken all three points!”

Commentator A: “What a godly play by Song! He used three different pieces of cover, switching positions with surgical precision to dismantle NSN’s push. The fact that he kept such clear decision-making under this level of pressure—absolutely insane!”

The commentators at the global tournament were equally in awe.

However, after pushing himself to the limit in that engagement, Sang Ye was low on resources and was ultimately finished off by the Thai team that arrived later.

WLG ended the round with five points, causing their ranking to drop to seventh place.

At the start of the next round, NSN didn’t contest their drop spot.

Hu Fu: “NSN was just trying to mess with our mental game last round. Stay focused, and Song, don’t rush it.”

Sang Ye pressed his lips together and said calmly, “I’m not rushing. We won’t end today with a bad ranking.”

No one knew where Sang Ye’s confidence came from, but his words reassured the team. They didn’t let NSN’s interference rattle them.

In the second match, WLG clashed with the Thai team at their drop spot and lost one player. However, they didn’t force the fight to the end. Following Sang Ye’s call, they took their advantage and repositioned, securing a foothold in the central zone’s buildings.

By the time the sixth phase of the zone was revealed, WLG’s compound was still inside the safe zone. Thanks to the loot they collected from passing enemies and their fourth-place finish, they secured a solid 12 points in this match.

In the third match, WLG successfully took control of P City, and the safe zone formed right above it.

By the time the fifth phase of the zone was about to shrink, the commentators, who had barely mentioned WLG due to their low activity, suddenly took notice:

Commentator A: “Pay attention, the next zone shift is about to happen. There’s a high probability it’ll cut north. WLG’s surroundings have become a high-pressure area over the last few phases, and they’re running out of options for getting into the next zone…”

Before he could even finish speaking, the white circle refreshed—and instead of shifting north, it unexpectedly moved to the lower right, placing WLG’s current position right at the center of the new safe zone.

Commentator B: “OHHHHHHH~!”

The audience erupted in excitement. It was an unexpected yet welcome turn of events.

With this advantage, WLG secured a second-place finish in the match.

After nearly four hours of competition, the tournament finally reached the fifth and final match.

This time, the zone formed in an unusual way—its center was positioned over a body of water, a rare occurrence.

Due to their late rotation in the fourth phase, Sang Ye and his team were forced to hold their ground in a fishing village. No matter which direction they attempted to break through, they were trapped in a dead zone.

As the fifth phase of the zone was about to be revealed—

Xiao Pai: “It’s definitely going to shift away from the water. The final circle will either be above us or down at the airport. Hopefully, it moves toward the airport—if not, NSN is waiting to gatekeep us if we push north.”

The commentators echoed his thoughts:

Commentator A: “The water’s going to be cut out. Teams are already preparing to rotate.”

The next second—

The zone refreshed.

The center of the zone landed in the water between the fishing village and the airport.

Commentator A (shocked): “What?! We haven’t seen a water zone in the Global Championship for a long time!”

Since combat in the water is notoriously difficult and was often criticized by players, the game developers had adjusted the mechanics to favor land zones. However, extremely rare cases like this could still happen.

Xiao Pai (frantically reloading): “D*mn, d*mn, d*mn, d*mn! Now it’s our turn to gatekeep NSN!”

Hu Fu (laughing): “This is unreal! Have you guys noticed? Ever since the second match, everything’s been going so smoothly! We’ve barely been pushed out of the zone at all.”

Xiao Pai: “Yeah, yeah, exactly! Bai Mao, looks like you were right after all! With this kind of luck, our final ranking won’t be bad!”

Sang Ye (firmly): “Focus up. This is the result of trading Talk’s ten years of romantic luck for a god-tier zone.”

The rest of the team: “??????”

Fueled by their belief that fate was on their side, WLG’s morale soared. They went on to win the final match.

Their overall ranking climbed to third place, securing them a spot in the winners’ bracket.

Meanwhile, NSN fell out of the top eight in the last match—missing qualification by just one point. They were left fuming with frustration.

Xiao Pai (sighing): “Man… if they hadn’t thrown the first match, they wouldn’t be in this mess. Look at that—NSN ended up sending themselves to the losers’ bracket. Sometimes, PUBG really is just about pure luck.”

Sang Ye, however, remained unfazed and repeated confidently, “It was all thanks to Talk sacrificing ten years of his romantic luck.”

Xiao Pai: “…Why are you so obsessed with my brother’s love life?”

…

With the group stage over, the teams could finally take a few days off. The winners’ bracket teams, in particular, had a full week before their next round of matches, giving them a chance to relax.

Catch22 arranged to go out drinking with a Russian team and invited WLG to join them.

Since Tan Mo was still at the team doctor’s office, Sang Ye decided to go along with the others.

The bar they chose had a nice ambiance—quiet, a place where they could eat, drink, and chat without too much noise.

Following Xing Xing’s recommendation, Sang Ye ordered a cocktail that tasted like fruit juice.

After a quick discussion, the two agreed it was good and went for a few more rounds.

By the time they were ready to leave, Xing Xing touched his slightly flushed face and stood up, looking bright-eyed and alert.

Then they turned to look at Sang Ye.

Facedown on the table. Absolutely wasted.

Xiao Pai (staring at the empty cocktail glass, then at Xing Xing): “Weren’t you drinking the same thing?”

Xing Xing (scratching his head): “Y-yeah… I even had one more than him.”

Fool (sighing): “Should’ve warned you. Aster can mix red wine, white wine, and beer and still be fine. So, yeah, don’t try keeping up with him.”

Xiao Pai (glancing at the unmoving Bai Mao, looking distressed): “Shit. My brother’s gonna chew me out.”

Tan Mo had been waiting at the street corner near their housing complex for a while.

From a distance, he saw a group of ten or so people get out of the car.

Among them was Sang Ye—being propped up by Xiao Pai and Hu Fu.

Tan Mo took Sang Ye from them, instinctively wrapping an arm around his waist, his gaze icy as it swept over the other three WLG members.

No one dared meet his eyes, instead sneaking out their tongues in silent guilt.

Tan Mo carried Sang Ye back to his room and laid him on the bed. To make him more comfortable, he helped him take off his thick outer coat.

Just as Tan Mo straightened up to go get some water—

A pale, delicate hand reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

Tan Mo fell silent and looked over.

At some point, the boy had woken up. Lying there with his head tilted slightly, his face was flushed red, and his usually dark, sharp eyes were now hazy, carrying a hint of a smile as he gazed at him.

How good did he look?

Good enough to make someone want to commit a crime.

Tan Mo ignored him, brushed his hand away, and turned to leave.

—But his shirt hem was caught.

Tan Mo paused, grabbed the wandering hand, and tossed it aside.

—Only for his own hand to be grabbed in return.

“……”

This was next-level clinginess—no matter how hard he tried to shake him off, he just wouldn’t let go.

Tan Mo turned around and got straight to the point. “Sang Ye, what’s your deal?”

Sang Ye beckoned him closer. “Come here.”

There was a hint of mystery in his tone, like he had some little secret that had to be whispered directly into his ear.

Tan Mo didn’t suspect anything and leaned in.

In an instant, the boy’s arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders like vines, and a pair of burning hot lips pressed against his.

Tan Mo’s breath hitched, and he instinctively dropped to one knee on the bed.

Two seconds later—

Tan Mo pushed Sang Ye away and propped himself up. “Wait.”

Sang Ye furrowed his brows, letting out a dissatisfied hum from his nose.

Tan Mo reached for his phone on the bedside table, turned on the video recording, and aimed it at Sang Ye beneath him.

His usually sharp features were tinged with a faint flush, but his tone remained indifferent—almost ruthlessly cold:

“Beg me.”

Sang Ye tilted his head in confusion, his gaze falling on the rear camera of the phone.

Tan Mo urged, “Hurry up.”

Sang Ye lazily waved a hand, completely ignoring him.

Smack!

The phone fell to the ground, and from the sound of it, something had cracked.

Tan Mo glanced down at the floor.

In that unguarded moment, a pair of slender, pale fingers grabbed his collar and yanked him downward.

Like a vine, Sang Ye wrapped around Tan Mo once more. Growing impatient, he pouted and let out a soft, whining plea in a sweet, childish tone:

“Oh merciful, compassionate God… I’m begging you…”

“……”

---

---

Chapter 74 – Go Away.

---

Almost as soon as the Weibo post was updated, the comments started rolling in.

[Awooo! Song-bao’s figurine is so cute!]

[Spotted Tan-shen! The person in the background is Tan-shen, right? So handsome, so handsome, so handsome!]

[What are the little couple up to today?]

[He could have just posted Tan-shen, but no—he had to put a figurine in front to pretend otherwise. Afraid our hearts can’t handle it, huh?]

[…]

Sang Ye scrolled through two pages of comments, feeling both guilty and nervous. He put away his phone and walked over to find Tan Mo.

Tan Mo let go of his pen, took the disposable cup from his mouth, and reached for his phone. “Done?”

Sang Ye hummed in response and leaned in to check the postcard Tan Mo had written. The elegant, powerful handwriting read: [Wishing you and your family happiness.]

“……”

All technique, no emotion.

Tan Mo unlocked his phone to check the photos Sang Ye had chosen. In the pictures, the boy’s soft, fluffy white hair had two little devil horns peeking through. His skin was snow-white, and a smudge of red was on the corner of his lips. Since the photos were taken in a burst, his expressions were lively and natural. In one particular shot, his eyes sparkled brightly as he gazed past the camera.

Like an innocent yet mischievous little devil.

Tan Mo stared at the pictures for a moment, then closed his phone.

No nine-photo collage.

He was keeping them to himself.

Sang Ye looked up. “Write a postcard for me too.”

Tan Mo replied, “Write it yourself.”

Sang Ye pouted, clearly unhappy. He huffed, stepped forward, and declared, “My handwriting is ugly!”

Tan Mo pushed the boy—who was practically glued to him—a little away. “Stop acting cute. All you do is flirt, flirt, flirt, and never take responsibility.”

Sang Ye’s face turned red. He quieted down, turned to the table, and picked up a pen, staring at the blank postcard in deep thought.

He had no idea what to write for the fans.

Tan Mo watched him from the side, amusement flashing in his eyes. He took the pen from Sang Ye’s hand, nudged him aside gently, and sighed. “I’ll do it for you.”

Sang Ye pressed his lips together, trying to hide his smile, and handed the postcard to Tan Mo.

But instead of taking it, Tan Mo dragged over the postcard he had already written on and continued writing above his original message.

Curious, Sang Ye tilted his head and watched.

At the top of the card, two lines above his previous words, Tan Mo’s elegant handwriting flowed smoothly across the paper:

— “In Berlin, the day after the first snow, with the one I love.”

— “Wishing you and your family happiness.”

…

Sang Ye lingered by the wall for a long time, the toe of his shoe rubbing against the floor. He hesitated until the last of the team handed their postcards to Yu Haotian. Then, dragging his feet, he finally walked over and handed his in.

Yu Haotian took the postcard, counted the stack in his hands, and said, “Just waiting on Tan Mo’s now.”

Sang Ye took a deep breath, opened his mouth slightly, and said, “That’s his.”

Yu Haotian looked up. “Then where’s yours?”

Sang Ye pointed at the card, his hands moving up and down, unsure of where to put them. “This… this one’s mine too.”

“???”

Yu Haotian looked more closely at the postcard. After scanning the words written on it, he turned to Sang Ye with a long, knowing sigh.

“You two really are something.”

Sang Ye’s face burned bright red, and he bolted.

That night, Yu Haotian posted four high-quality images of postcards on the official team page. The photos only showed the scenic side of the postcards, not the handwritten messages.

WLG Esports Club SH V:

[Support our players in the World Championship! Repost and comment to enter the giveaway. Check out the messages from @WLGPi, @WLG_hufu, @WLGelan, @wlg-Talk, and @wlg-Song written on-site at the tournament~]

@RapIsReal: [Why are there only four postcards when there are five players? Is one missing? Is the official account hiding something big?]

WLG Esports Club SH replied to @RapIsReal: [If you win the giveaway, you’ll find out what the big secret is~ 😜]

…

At six in the evening, a local restaurant in the community was packed with people dressed in all sorts of eccentric costumes.

Since Halloween culture wasn’t deeply ingrained in the Asia-Pacific region, the players’ outfits were relatively modest.

Meanwhile, the Western teams were much more adventurous—there were all kinds of costumes, including men dressed as nurses. They fully embraced the festive party atmosphere.

When Team HK Tough Guys made their entrance, they triggered a wave of cheers. Four burly, bearded men had dressed up as Elsa, Jasmine, Belle, and Ariel. As they strutted past, flipping their wigs, the effect was both amusing and slightly unsettling.

As Sang Ye and Tan Mo wove through the crowd, they frequently caught the attention of onlookers. People whispered in mixed languages from different countries.

“That’s Talk, the captain of last year’s championship-winning team, WLG.”

“I know him. But who’s the beautiful Eastern doll beside him?”

“No idea, but I’ve seen them together several times. He’s always glued to Talk’s side…”

During the first half of the event, everyone was busy taking photos with their favorite players, moving around and chatting with one another.

The room was dimly lit, with ghostly blue beams of light sweeping across the space, creating an eerie Halloween atmosphere.

After finishing a photo with a Norwegian player, Tan Mo unbuttoned one of his shirt buttons and took a gulp of ice water, feeling a little unwell.

He decided to head back and was about to call Sang Ye when he realized they had gotten separated amidst the constant flow of people asking for photos.

Tan Mo made his way through the main hall to the adjacent lounge. Thanks to his height, he had an advantage—one quick scan of the crowd, and he immediately spotted Sang Ye standing by the fireplace.

Standing opposite Sang Ye was none other than the French guy who had once said, “Even the sun, moon, and stars would pale in your presence.”

The two were huddled over their phones, typing for a while before lifting their screens to show each other—chatting via a translation app.

The dim, flickering orange-red flames cast a warm glow on Sang Ye’s small face, reflecting in Tan Mo’s eyes as the only warm color in the entire scene.

After reading the French man’s phone screen, a soft flush crept onto Sang Ye’s cheeks, and he nodded slightly.

Tan Mo took another sip of ice water and continued staring in Sang Ye’s direction for a while. The dim lighting concealed the emotions in his eyes, but he didn’t step forward to interrupt.

Some things could be discussed behind closed doors.

He pulled out his phone, opened WeChat, and was about to text Sang Ye to let him know he was leaving early.

Just then, all the lights in the venue suddenly went out, and the music stopped. The loud chatter in the room was instantly suppressed with a collective whoosh!

Everyone was left in pitch darkness, exchanging confused glances, unsure of what had happened.

Xiao Pai, who had been leaning against the doorway chatting with Hu Fu, muttered, “Power outage? Should we call someone to fix it?”

Before he could react, a sharp, ear-piercing scream suddenly rang out from behind him.

Xiao Pai flinched, his shoulders tensing as he quickly turned around.

At that exact moment, the door beside him swung open, and in the pitch-black darkness, a shadowy figure collapsed onto him.

“AHHHHHH!”

Feeling long strands of hair brushing against him, Xiao Pai shrieked hysterically, instantly leaping onto Hu Fu in sheer terror.

With a loud thud, the figure crashed onto the floor.

A chain reaction of chaos erupted around them—people screamed, others laughed, and the entire room was thrown into disarray.

Then, the lights suddenly flickered back on, revealing the scene.

Some people were still screaming, while others burst into laughter.

Everyone looked toward the floor, where a life-sized plastic mannequin from a department store lay sprawled out, its wig slightly askew.

Curses in various languages filled the air.

Dressed as a ghost draped in a white sheet, Xiao Pai’s face was drained of all color as he gasped, “D*mn it, nearly scared me to death…”

Once the initial shock passed, people laughed it off as a harmless Halloween prank.

The crowd quickly moved on, caught up in the festive spirit—no one noticed that after the prank, someone stood frozen in place, unable to move for a long time.

Tan Mo watched through the shifting gaps in the crowd, his gaze fixed on the mannequin still lying on the floor.

The plastic figure wore a frozen, artificial smile, its vacant eyes locking onto his in an eerie stare.

But in that instant, something shifted—within that lifeless gaze surged an indescribable wave of sorrow.

The lights around them dimmed once again.

And with them, all the light in Tan Mo’s world began to fade, gradually darkening until it was completely extinguished.

..

The noisy sounds of the party faded into the distance as Tan Mo walked down the long hallway leading to the back door.

His cape had slipped off his shoulders, dragging along the floor. He hung his head, his tall frame weighed down with exhaustion. With every step, his shoes sank into the soft, muddy ground beneath him, the earth seemingly ready to swallow him whole.

His sharply tailored dress pants bent at the knees as he stumbled into the wall. His brow struck the hard surface, and like a puppet whose strings had been cut, he collapsed, sinking onto his knees.

…

The boy was afraid. And deeply sad.

But he couldn’t look back.

He knew someone was chasing him. He also knew that inside that house behind him… was his mother, who had taken her last breath.

…

Sang Ye searched the restaurant up and down, but he couldn’t find him anywhere.

Grabbing Xiao Pai—who was bouncing in the middle of the crowd on the dance floor—he shouted a question.

The music was too loud. Xiao Pai leaned in, cupping his ear. “Huh—?”

Sang Ye raised his voice. “Where’s Talk?”

Xiao Pai shook his head cluelessly.

Sang Ye let go of him.

Draped in a white sheet, Xiao Pai went right back to bouncing—now resembling an oversized jellyfish.

Sang Ye removed his small horned headband, grabbed his coat, and left the party.

Outside, light snow had begun to fall again. He looked up at the pitch-dark sky, tiny snowflakes landing on his face. They melted instantly, cold against his skin.

As he walked back to the dorms, he pulled out his phone to check for messages.

There were none from Tan Mo.

Frowning, he called him directly, but the phone rang and rang, never connecting.

The night air was bitterly cold. Within minutes, Sang Ye’s fingers had gone numb.

He pressed them against his lips for warmth before sending Tan Mo a message.

S.: [Where are you?]

By the time it was nearly ten at night, Sang Ye heard a knock at the door.

He opened it to find Tan Mo standing there.

His hair was damp and slightly disheveled, his eyes were red-rimmed, and a dark bruise had formed at the corner of his left eyebrow. There was also a faint red scrape on his cheekbone. Aside from that, his face was completely devoid of color.

Sang Ye opened his mouth. “You…”

Tan Mo leaned in and embraced him.

A shiver ran down Sang Ye’s spine. Tan Mo’s cheek was cold, his neck was cold, even his breath—escaping from beneath his collar—was cold. The hands pressed against Sang Ye’s back, even through the cotton fabric of his sleepwear, were ice-cold.

The man was covered in frost, his whole body damp, like a lost dog caught in a snowstorm.

Sang Ye staggered back, struggling to support Tan Mo’s full weight as he guided him inside and closed the door.

Tan Mo took a shower, dried himself off, and gradually warmed up. The whole process took nearly an hour.

Sang Ye poured him a cup of hot water and placed it on the bedside table before glancing toward the bed.

Tan Mo lay there with an arm draped over his eyes. His face was still pale, strands of black hair scattered against the pristine white pillow.

Sang Ye didn’t know exactly what had happened, but for Tan Mo to suddenly end up like this, it had to be related to the prank at the party.

He switched off the bedside lamp to let Tan Mo rest properly.

On the nightstand, a moon lamp hovered gently above its base, slowly rotating and emitting a dim, warm glow.

Just as Sang Ye was hesitating over whether to turn it off too, Tan Mo moved his arm away from his eyes and said, “Can you leave a light on for me?”

Sang Ye withdrew his hand, straightening up at the bedside. “Oh… Then I’ll leave it on.”

Tan Mo glanced at the moon lamp and added, “It might stay on all night… Do you want me to arrange another room for you?”

Sang Ye frowned slightly, then walked back to his own bed and sat down heavily. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A trace of helplessness flickered in Tan Mo’s eyes as he turned to look at him. “Do you need an eye mask?”

“I have one.” Sang Ye flattened his pillow and patted it. “Besides, even without it, I can sleep with the light on.”

Between their beds, a tall and slender vase stood on the nightstand.

Through the cluster of daffodils between them, Tan Mo watched as Sang Ye lay down and pulled the blanket over himself. His gaze softened slightly. “Go to sleep. Goodnight. If the light bothers you, just let me know.”

Sang Ye suddenly sat up straight and asked, “Will I be disturbing you by staying here?”

He remembered Tan Mo mentioning before that he sometimes had trouble sleeping at night, which was why he usually didn’t share a room with others.

Tan Mo tugged at the corner of his lips in a faint smile. “No.”

Only then did Sang Ye relax and lie back down, burrowing into the blanket. After a pause, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Tan Mo stared at the ceiling, his expression hollow. “I remembered something from the past.”

Sang Ye knew he had experienced a shooting as a child. He clutched the blanket, rubbed his nose against it, and lowered his voice. “Do you need me to come over?”

Tan Mo was silent for a moment before turning his face to look at him. “Are you staying with me tonight?”

Sang Ye’s legs curled slightly under the blanket, and warmth crept up his face.

He didn’t know how to comfort Tan Mo, but he also didn’t want to do nothing.

“…Mm.” His voice was as soft as a mosquito’s hum. But then, afraid of any misunderstanding, he quickly poked his head out, his face flushed, and clarified, “Just to sleep. Only sleep.”

Tan Mo looked at him for two seconds.

“Then don’t come.”

“…”

Sang Ye didn’t say a word, just huffed and flopped onto his side with exaggerated movements, turning his back to Tan Mo and pulling the blanket up to cover half his face.

And like that, he lay still for three minutes.

Although the room was quiet and the dim light wasn’t strong enough to be irritating, he found himself unable to sleep as easily as usual. His mind was a mess.

He cautiously lifted his head and turned to glance behind him.

There, he saw Tan Mo still lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t even blink, like a puppet that had lost its soul.

Maybe, in the past, Tan Mo had spent his sleepless nights just like this—lying awake with his eyes open.

Sang Ye propped himself up, grabbed his pillow, got out of bed, and padded over to Tan Mo’s bed in his cotton slippers.

Tan Mo looked at him.

Only then did Sang Ye notice the faint traces of moisture at the corners of Tan Mo’s eyes—just like when he first opened the door, those peach blossom eyes glistening with dampness.

Sang Ye climbed onto the bed.

Tan Mo shifted to make room for him.

Once Sang Ye slid under the covers and got comfortable, Tan Mo closed the space between them, burying his face against Sang Ye’s chest, breathing in the soft, sweet scent of the boy’s pajamas.

“Turn off the light,” Tan Mo said, his voice hoarse.

Sang Ye reached over and tapped the touch-sensitive switch on the moon lamp’s base.

The room fell into darkness, and Sang Ye let out a quiet breath of relief.

The two lay in silence, facing each other, wrapped in an embrace.

Sang Ye idly twirled a strand of Tan Mo’s hair around his fingertip and asked in a hushed voice, “What’s wrong?”

Tan Mo pressed even closer, and after a long pause, his voice was thick with emotion.

“I miss my mom.”

It was the first time Sang Ye had ever heard Tan Mo mention his mother. Without thinking, he almost asked, “She…”

But then he felt the arms wrapped around his waist suddenly tighten.

Sang Ye shut his mouth and didn’t ask any further.

Tan Mo murmured, “Song.”

“Mm?”

“Can I not play?”

In the darkness, Sang Ye blinked slowly and replied, “Of course you can.”

“I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t just your burden to bear alone.”

After a while, Sang Ye heard Tan Mo sniff quietly.

Sang Ye patted Tan Mo’s back, suppressing his own shyness, and said, “The first time we tried out for the team, you left in the middle. I was really worried and scared. I thought that without you, I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“……”

“But now, it’s different. Talk, I can lead the team myself now. I’ve gotten really strong.”

“I’m sorry,” Tan Mo mumbled, his voice muffled. “I’ll get better soon.”

…

October 1^st marked the official start of the group stage.

Groups A and B took turns competing every other day, with five matches per day.

Sang Ye watched the first day’s games and felt an even stronger impact witnessing them in person.

The level of competition on the global stage was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Here, there were no invincible champions. A team could dominate one match and then drop to the bottom of the rankings in the next. The sheer number of world-class teams made every game unpredictable.

At the end of day one, BTF was in excellent form. Catch22 managed to secure a win, placing them in the upper mid-tier. HK racked up a solid 60 points, securing first place—once again proving why they were the reigning champions.

The next day was the match of Group B. Before going to the competition venue, the coach held a short meeting and said that the command position would be handed over to Sang Ye.

No one was surprised. If Tan Mo wasn’t playing, Sang Ye was the only one who could take over as commander. The other three fully trusted his abilities.

The coach gave them a pep talk: “The first day is about getting used to the pace and playstyle of the tournament. Don’t rush for results—this is a long battle. The group stage is just the first phase. If we make it to the top eight, we’ll save a lot of energy for later. But even if we lose, don’t be afraid. There are plenty of chances ahead.”

When they arrived at the venue early, Sang Ye carried his keyboard onto the stage. Just as he reached the side, he ran into the NSN players heading backstage.

But the foreign referees were extremely stubborn. They trusted their own eyes and refused to listen—no matter what. They insisted on speaking with their manager.

Lu Qikai was so furious that he almost started an argument with the referees. However, doing so would only reinforce his image as an aggressive bully.

Worried that things would escalate, Shine led the referees to find the manager.

Lu Qikai realized that Sang Ye had set him up, and his eyes flashed with anger as he glared at him.

Sang Ye adjusted the strap of his shoulder bag and stood on the steps, looking down at him from above. “If you’ve got the guts, meet me in P City.”

Lu Qikai sneered. “I’m not looking for trouble, and you’d better not take things for granted. Let’s go our separate ways, but don’t let us run into you later.”

Despite his temper, Lu Qikai was still clear-headed—this was the world championship, not the time for reckless grudges.

Sang Ye turned away, took two steps toward the stage, then glanced back. “If you don’t have the guts, don’t start trouble. Tr*sh.”

Lu Qikai’s face instantly darkened.

All the players took their seats on stage.

When the camera panned to Team WLG, the presence of two fresh-faced rookies made the team look especially young.

The three foreign commentators exclaimed in surprise, all wondering where Captain Talk was. When they learned he wasn’t participating in the group stage, they shook their heads in disappointment. Frankly, they believed this lineup put WLG at a disadvantage—sending two “little cuties” onto the battlefield would likely land them in the losers’ bracket.

“The international audience hasn’t seen Song’s skills yet. They don’t know what he’s capable of, so it’s normal for them to doubt him,” the coach said, arms crossed. “Switch the stream to the domestic broadcast.”

The domestic casters were two familiar voices, and as soon as the stream switched over, their excited chatter filled the air.

“Ah! Why is God Tan not playing again?! Song performed well in the Asia Championship, but this is the Global Championship, the Global Championship! Every team here represents the top level of their region. Putting Song and E Lan on stage feels like sending minors to work—I can’t bear to watch.”

“…,” the coach let out a deep sigh.

Since the commentator spoke Chinese so fluently, he decided to tolerate their remarks.

…

The first match featured a central flight path from north to south.

On the plane.

Based on their previous scrims, Xiao Pai said, “There’s a Thai team that also drops P City. They’re strong, and there’s a high chance we’ll contest them. Should we give up the spot?”

Since P City was WLG’s home ground, they kept track of every team that had drop spots there.

Sang Ye glanced at the map and marked a location. “Don’t back down.”

Xiao Pai saw the marked spot and cursed, “D*mn.”

Both teams landed in the double four-story building section of P City.

The observer noticed that they were about to clash, so the first camera feed was directed their way.

NSN had arrived after all.

“They don’t have Tan Mo now, what the hell is he acting cocky for?!” Lu Qikai swore as he picked up a gun. He took position at a high vantage point, scanning for angles and vision. He spotted a figure flash past a second-floor window and quickly called it out.

Lee Jun-hyun, expecting to run into Sang Ye again, smirked and said in English, “Hope the pretty boy doesn’t cry this time.”

Shine ignored the other two, diligently looting while staying alert for any movement around him.

By the third minute, after a few unsuccessful skirmishes, both teams had a general idea of each other’s positioning.

Lu Qikai issued orders quickly, “Two in the four-story building. One in each of the other two buildings. Song is in one of them.”

Lulu casually asked, “How do you know?”

Lu Qikai snapped, “Don’t ask. I’ve studied them too much. I can tell it’s him just from a glimpse of his head.”

Lulu, still confused, replied, “Oh, okay.”

Lee Jun-hyun volunteered to push the building Sang Ye was in.

With the sound of a gunshot, P City descended into chaos.

The moment the first knock notification popped up—

Lu Qikai’s expression twisted into something bizarre, as if he had just seen a ghost.

Lulu was eliminated. “Brother! Why is it the Thai team?!”

Lee Jun-hyun managed to take control of the building after securing a hit, but a sniper from another team took him out from a window.

“Shib*l!”

Shine immediately avenged him by eliminating the sniper.

Both sides took a brief pause to reorganize.

With Shine covering them with his gun, the Thai team didn’t dare to attack immediately. Taking advantage of the moment, Lu Qikai rushed into the opposite building to revive Lee Jun-hyun.

As they waited for the revive, the two quickly exchanged words in English.

“You said Song was here?”

“He told me before the match that he’d be in P City! How was I supposed to know he’d change his mind?”

“Then where did he go?”

Lu Qikai was frustrated. “How the hell should I know—”

Before he could finish his sentence—

Bang! A series of bullets whizzed through the window. Two shots knocked Lu Qikai down, followed by a precise finishing shot. Then, with almost perfect accuracy, another bullet eliminated the low-health Lee Jun-hyun.

[WLG-Song used Kar98k to headshot and eliminate NSN-Kay.]

[WLG-Song used Kar98k to eliminate NSN-JunX.]

Lu Qikai: “…”

Lee Jun-hyun: “…”

Although they couldn’t see or hear it, the arena erupted with excitement.

Female foreign Commentator: “What?! Oh my God! Song is that little cutie? Where did he shoot from? Can you guys find his position?”

Male foreign Commentator: “That was incredible… Oh! We’re reviewing the replay now—Song was positioned on a hill beyond a wheat field! That spot is outside P City’s usual line of sight. His ambush was perfectly executed—what a brilliant play!”

Meanwhile, the WLG coach was still watching the domestic broadcast.

Commentator A: “Song easily grabbed two kills right at the start! 666! What a textbook ambush! WLG landed directly on the P City hill—clearly, without Tan Mo, the young players are playing more cautiously. But at the same time, they never took their eyes off P City. Smart, very strategic!”

Commentator B: “Song just fired five smooth shots, landing every single one. He took down Lu Qikai first, then switched targets instantly to finish Lee Jun-hyun. Brilliant decision-making! NSN’s two veterans probably never expected an enemy to be lurking outside their window, so they let their guard down. NSN had the advantage earlier, but Song just flipped the entire situation—now the Thai team is about to clean them up.”

Commentator A: “Exactly! Never underestimate any player who makes it to the Global Championship. Ahhh, I take back what I said earlier—Song truly deserves to be called ‘Little Talk.’ He has what it takes to carry the team!”

As the commentator predicted, NSN’s early-game fight ended in a full squad wipe.

Later, WLG successfully rotated into the zone and secured a sixth-place finish.

Mid-game Break

During the break, Xiao Pai and Sang Ye stepped out of their team’s player area.

At the same time, Lu Qikai also walked out with his team.

Xiao Pai immediately noticed Lu Qikai’s terrible expression—he looked like he wanted to strangle the white-haired boy on the spot.

“Uh-oh,” Xiao Pai thought.

Just as he was about to run back and call Hu Fu for backup, Sang Ye had already shoved both hands into his pockets and casually walked toward NSN’s group.

He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t slow down.

Worried that Lu Qikai might deliberately cause trouble, Xiao Pai hurried to catch up.

“Bai Mao—”

But just as Sang Ye was about to step closer, Lu Qikai suddenly dodged backward with a huge sidestep, putting as much distance between them as possible.

“……?”

Xiao Pai followed behind Sang Ye, looking utterly confused as they passed right through the middle of the NSN squad.

For a moment, he wondered if it was just his imagination, but— Lu Qikai was avoiding Sang Ye like he was the plague.

End of Day One

By the end of the first day’s matches, WLG, under Sang Ye’s leadership, had secured 42 points and finished in fifth place.

This exceeded everyone’s expectations—even the foreign commentator mentioned Sang Ye’s ID during the post-match review, proving that his first appearance on the international stage had left a strong impression.

On the Way Back

On the way back, Yu Haotian glanced at his phone and muttered,

“The team doctor has arrived.”

Sang Ye looked over.

Xiao pai blurted out, “Why’s the team doctor here?”

Yu Haotian waved him off. “Worried you guys might be under too much mental stress, so they brought him in just in case. It’s for your own good, alright?”

Xiao pai scoffed, “Our mental state is perfectly fine. He might as well go on vacation.”

But Sang Ye knew—the team doctor was here for Tan Mo.

…

Back at their team’s residential building, they agreed on a time to meet downstairs for dinner before heading to their rooms to drop off their things.

When Sang Ye pushed open the door, he saw a large suitcase sprawled open on the floor, with Tan Mo tossing clothes into it.

Sang Ye paused at the doorway, blinking at the suitcase blocking the hallway.

Tan Mo heard the noise and looked up. “You’re back?”

“Mm.” Sang Ye lowered his head and stepped around the suitcase, noticeably quiet.

Tan Mo wound up his charging cable and said casually, “I watched the livestream. You played really well today.”

“Oh.”

With his back turned, Sang Ye dropped his backpack, his head hanging low. His response was clearly perfunctory, as if he didn’t really feel like talking.

Tan Mo tossed the charging cable into the suitcase and, after a moment’s thought, said, “I’m switching rooms for the next few nights. That way, I won’t disturb you at night.”

Sang Ye pressed his lips together, bending down to rummage through his backpack for his meal card, staying silent. But inside, his mind was a tangled mess, making the sound of his rummaging unnecessarily loud.

— You’re the one who wanted to share a room. Now you’re the one who doesn’t want to anymore.

— I’m just someone you play around with when you’re in a good mood, huh?

Sang Ye said coldly, “Just go.”

Tan Mo explained, “I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

“No need.” The boy’s voice was slightly detached. “Too much trouble.”

Tan Mo licked his lips, watching Sang Ye’s back for a moment, then resumed packing.

Sang Ye yanked his meal card out from the bottom of his backpack and strode toward the door.

Tan Mo asked, “Going to eat?”

Sang Ye didn’t look back. “Mm.”

Tan Mo lowered his eyes, continuing to pack.

As Sang Ye passed the open suitcase at the door, he glanced at it. His jaw tightened defiantly, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

And then—he walked away.

But then, he stepped back.

Sang Ye lifted his foot and stepped into the empty space inside the suitcase, then crouched down.

So when Tan Mo turned around, he was met with the sight of a white-haired boy squatting inside his suitcase.

“……”

Tan Mo still had bottles of skincare products in both hands and shifted his weight onto his other leg.

“Sang Ye?”

“If you want to leave, then just leave.”

Sang Ye huddled into a corner of the suitcase, curling up tightly, his head lowered as he peeled at the frayed edge of his meal card’s cover. His face was flushed red, and he mumbled unhappily,

“Take me with you, then.”

“…………”

---

---

Chapter 73 – Mine.

---

Tan Mo had already stood up with his tray. Sang Ye quickly put his phone away and followed.

The two of them walked toward the exit.

“If you don’t have anything else to grab, let’s head straight to the game room,” Tan Mo said. “We should check if the equipment is working properly. Do you have your player ID?”

Sang Ye walked with his head down.

Tan Mo tilted his head slightly to look at him. “Song?”

“W-what?”

Sang Ye immediately lifted his head and met those peach blossom eyes.

—His face flushed, his breath was unsteady, and his heart pounded.

Tan Mo raised his own ID badge and shook it slightly. “Player ID.”

“Oh, I have it.”

Sang Ye quickly lowered his head and rummaged through his crossbody bag, but his mind kept replaying that phrase—He is mine.

…

That afternoon, the teams in the community arranged a practice match.

Sang Ye saw several familiar faces—Catch22 and BTF were also participating.

Since top-tier teams often had overlapping drop spots, the best loot locations became contested right from the start.

In the first round, four teams landed at P City, with WLG and HK both taking positions at the double four-story buildings.

“It’s Wu De again,” Xiao Pai commented while looting a seaside house. “I really hope we don’t get grouped with HK in the qualifiers.”

The first phase of the group stage would divide all teams into two groups, A and B, to compete within their respective brackets.

“HK is probably hoping for the same,” Tan Mo said as he picked up a 4x scope, attached it to his gun, leaned slightly toward the window, and reported an enemy position.

As soon as Sang Ye opened the door and stepped into the room, a bullet shattered the window, grazing past his side. He pressed himself against the wall without immediately scoping in, instead judging from the sound of gunfire, “One on the second-floor balcony room.”

Tan Mo glanced at his now incomplete health bar. “Do you have meds?”

“I do,” Sang Ye responded immediately. “Hold on, I’ll go downstairs and bring you some in a bit.”

Tan Mo opened his mouth slightly but didn’t speak. Instead, he locked onto a figure appearing in the gap between two window frames. In a split second, he unleashed a barrage of ten bullets per second, the dense gunfire pinning the enemy down with no chance to escape.

A knockdown notification appeared in the top right corner.

“Keep it for yourself,” Tan Mo said. “I have a first aid kit here—take it if you need more.”

“Brother, why do you always share all your good loot with Bai Mao? Once or twice is whatever, but I’ve seen you do it so many times. Do you have a bias?” Xiao Pai started stirring trouble again. “If this keeps up, I’m seriously gonna start believing there’s something between you two.”

Sang Ye had no time to bother with Xiao Pai. He vaulted out of the second-floor window. Since he had gathered intel earlier and knew there were only two enemies in the target building—one already down and the other now distracted—he seized the opportunity to attack HK’s building.

As he crept inside and started climbing the stairs, he hadn’t even reached the last step before a bullet shattered his helmet.

Sang Ye didn’t stop to heal; instead, he tossed a grenade upstairs.

Gunfire erupted from Tan Mo’s position.

Without needing to be told, Sang Ye knew the enemy had retreated into the room and was now exposing themselves at the window. Taking advantage of the moment, he pushed up aggressively.

Maintaining his scoped-in stance, Tan Mo casually asked Xiao Pai, “What kind of relationship?”

Hufu, positioned at a high vantage point, called out, “Someone’s crossing the street.”

Xiao Pai shouldered his gun and ran over to provide support, complaining along the way, “The internet says you two are together!”

Before Sang Ye could even round the corner of the other building, HK’s player unexpectedly rushed out and pre-fired, landing a shot. But Sang Ye still had enough health to counterattack.

After an intense burst of gunfire, two notifications popped up.

One: Wu De eliminated by Sang Ye.

Two: Sang Ye knocked out.

“That’s what you get for running your mouth.”

Sang Ye’s knockdown had nothing to do with Xiao Pai, but he was still venting his frustration.

Lying on the ground, he sulked in silence.

If Tan Mo hadn’t weakened Wu De just now, the one getting eliminated early would have been him.

“Hey! You, Bai Mao,” Xiao Pai advanced along the wall. “I’m not reviving you.”

“Ignore him,” Tan Mo, after confirming the area was safe, holstered his gun and headed downstairs. “Your boyfriend is coming to save you.”

Sang Ye’s breath caught, his fingers curling into his palm.

“D*mn,” Xiao Pai muttered to himself. “Could you stop messing around? You’re making it seem kinda real…”

After eliminating the two HK players, Xiao Pai regrouped at the two-story building. For now, HK wouldn’t make any reckless moves.

Tan Mo approached Sang Ye, who was lying on the ground looking utterly defeated, and spoke in his deep, smooth voice, “How many times have I told you to keep an eye on your supply status? You had them pinned—taking a few seconds to heal wouldn’t have made a difference.”

Sang Ye, embarrassed, felt his face heat up. “I knew you were across from me, so I figured taking a few extra steps forward wouldn’t kill me… When I’m leading a team myself, I’m way more careful.”

“Oh,” Tan Mo replied coolly. “Don’t act spoiled on the battlefield. A boyfriend isn’t all-powerful.”

Sang Ye’s voice rose involuntarily, turning slightly high-pitched. “Who—who’s acting spoiled?!”

Xiao Pai nearly cringed out of existence. “You two… you’re not actually together, are you?!”

Tan Mo’s voice lifted at the end, teasing, “What do you think?”

Xiao Pai let out a breath. “Scared me for a second there.”

Sang Ye nudged his headset with his shoulder, his cheeks burning red.

He thought to himself, This Xiao Pai is really dumb. Seriously.

They played five rounds of scrims that day. HK continued to drop P City every game—perhaps it was just the European playstyle, focused on aggressive fights. If they managed to loot up and get rolling, they could be a real powerhouse. But WLG was relentless in gathering intel at the start, always taking the most strategic positions. If they didn’t shoot, they stayed hidden; if they did, every shot counted. After five contested drop fights, WLG won four.

If both teams ended up in the same group during the official matches, the outcome would likely be similar. That meant the pressure was on HK, while WLG could take it easy.

Arriving in Berlin ten days early wasn’t just about training—they also had to shoot promotional videos, take official portraits, and participate in countless interviews. It was even more exhausting than training back home.

On the busiest filming day, Sang Ye was so drained that the moment he got back to his room, he collapsed onto the bed and didn’t move.

The man placed one hand on Sang Ye’s back while the other unzipped his thick winter coat, peeling it off.

As his sweater was lifted, Sang Ye had no choice but to raise his arms. The soft cashmere fabric brushed against his fair skin, leaving a faintly prickling sensation.

With the sweater removed, the boy’s snowy white hair became a static mess, and he slumped weakly against the man’s chest.

The man steadied him again.

Same routine.

Next came the hoodie, then the shirt, then the vest, another shirt, and another vest…

“How many layers are you even wearing?” Tan Mo chuckled. “If I keep peeling, I might actually cry.”

After all the effort, Sang Onion Ye finally woke up.

As he slowly opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the man’s face—so close it was almost touching his own. Those downcast, almond-shaped eyes revealed a faint crease on the eyelid, and his gaze followed the movements of his hands as he unfastened a button. Up close, the man’s skin was strikingly smooth, a clean, cool shade of white. His expression was neutral yet patient, while the lamplight from the side cast a soft shadow across his high nose bridge.

Sang Ye, still drowsy, gazed at him and absentmindedly licked his lips, which had gone dry from the air-conditioned room.

Tan Mo pulled off Sang Ye’s final dress shirt, revealing the white T-shirt underneath. He reached out and pressed a hand against the boy’s back—it was damp with sweat.

Raising his eyes, Tan Mo finally noticed that Sang Ye was awake. But just as he was about to tell him to go shower, the words caught in his throat.

Something in the boy’s hazy, eager gaze scratched at his heart. And when his eyes drifted down to Sang Ye’s slightly parted, glistening lips, a heat flared in his chest.

The room was silent.

Outside, the faint sound of a car rolling by rustled through the air before fading away.

Their eyes met—calm on the surface, but beneath, a searing hunger burned.

Tan Mo reached out, his fingers curling around the back of Sang Ye’s slender neck as he leaned in.

Sang Ye’s hand, stiff and uncertain, landed against the man’s waist.

Then—

Knock, knock, knock.

Someone was at the door.

Tan Mo paused, shutting his eyes briefly.

For f*ck’s sake…

Sang Ye snapped out of his daze, yanking his hands back like they’d been burned. His breath hitched, and he practically turned to stone.

Tan Mo held back from cursing. He straightened up, his voice turning a little colder. “The water’s ready. Go shower.”

“Oh… oh.” Sang Ye lowered his eyes, his gaze darting everywhere but at Tan Mo. This time, he was unusually obedient, offering no resistance.

Tan Mo walked toward the door.

As he moved away, his warm fingers brushed lightly against the back of Sang Ye’s neck, sending a faint, electric shiver down his spine.

Sang Ye sat at the edge of the bed for a moment longer before suddenly springing up. Grabbing his bundled-up pajamas from the foot of the bed, he dashed into the bathroom.

When the door opened, Yu Haotian was standing outside.

Noting Tan Mo’s less-than-pleased expression, he glanced into the room. “What’s wrong? You two fighting?”

“No.” Tan Mo leaned against the doorframe, keeping it short. “What do you want?”

Yu Haotian handed over a document. “The group stage draw is out.”

Tan Mo took it and flipped through the pages.

They had been placed in Group B.

Although WLG had won the Summer Championship and placed second in the Intercontinental Tournament, their overall ranking barely made the cut. That meant they were bound to be grouped with high-scoring teams—NSN among them.

Meanwhile, Group A had HK, Catch22, and BTF—undoubtedly the “Group of Death.”

“Pretty lucky,” Yu Haotian commented. “At least you dodged those teams for now.”

“Got it.” Tan Mo stood up, ready to close the door. “If you have a digital copy, just drop it in the group chat.”

Yu Haotian waved his phone. “Already did.”

Tan Mo looked at him.

“Everyone’s discussing it in the chat except for you and Song,” Yu Haotian said. “I had to bring it over myself.”

“…”

Tan Mo had the expression of someone who just got utterly screwed over. “I’m clocking out. If anything comes up, text me.”

With that, he moved to close the door.

Yu Haotian lowered his voice. “You two living together isn’t going to cause any… issues, right?”

Tan Mo was confused. “What issues?”

Yu Haotian glanced into the room again and asked, “Where’s Song?”

Tan Mo: “In the shower.”

Yu Haotian smirked. “Unbelievable.”

“?”

…

October 30^th—the day before the tournament kicked off—was also Halloween Eve.

Before dinner, the event organizers hosted a costume party for the players. Dressing up was mandatory, but alcohol was strictly prohibited to prevent it from affecting their performance the next day.

Sang Ye was given a pair of little devil horns. As soon as he put them on, the makeup artist gasped, covering her mouth. “Adooooorable!”

Sang Ye didn’t understand her, tilting his head as he sat obediently for his makeup.

But the moment the makeup artist picked up an eyeliner pencil and moved in to apply it, he immediately leaned back and waved his hands. “No, no, no, no, no.”

He would never, ever let that stuff near his face.

When Sang Ye left the prep room, he spotted Tan Mo.

Tan Mo was leaning against a windowsill, sipping hot water from a disposable cup. He was dressed in a black suit with a cape draped over his shoulders—no special effects makeup, no elaborate costume. Pure laziness.

Sang Ye walked over, grabbed a handful of Tan Mo’s cape, and kneaded it between his fingers. “Why aren’t you wearing any makeup?”

Tan Mo countered, “Guess what I’m dressed as.”

Did he even need to ask? Sang Ye saw through it in an instant. “A vampire!”

“There you go.” Tan Mo shrugged. “If I already look the part, what’s the point of makeup?”

Sang Ye couldn’t argue with that. He wrinkled his nose, feeling slightly cheated.

Tan Mo’s skin was pale, his features sharp—he could wear a bedsheet and still look like a sophisticated, aristocratic vampire.

Just then, Tan Mo set his cup down on the windowsill and pulled out his phone. “Let me take a couple of pictures.”

Sang Ye had no problem facing high-definition cameras worth millions, but the second Tan Mo pointed his phone at him, he threw up his hands. “No! No pictures!”

Tan Mo grabbed his wrist and, using his height advantage, raised the phone up. “Smile.”

“No photos! No photos!” Sang Ye was too busy grabbing at Tan Mo’s clothes, hopping up and down, completely forgetting he could just cover his face.

Passing teammates gave them indescribable looks.

Tan Mo snapped at least fifty pictures before handing the phone over. “Pick the ones you like.”

Sang Ye immediately quieted down and snatched the phone, terrified of leaving any embarrassing photos in Tan Mo’s gallery.

Tan Mo then said, “Mind if I post a nine-photo collage on Weibo later?”

Sang Ye’s face burned. His grip on the phone tightened.

He really wanted to say no.

Talk was being way too obvious about it.

Sang Ye looked up, his eyes sparkling, but his lips were pursed. “Why does it have to be a nine-photo collage? What if I can’t pick nine pictures?”

Tan Mo looked at him.

A moment later—

With a smile, he said, “Alright. If it’s a nine-photo collage, I’ll just post only you, okay?”

“……”

Sang Ye’s face turned bright red. He lowered his head and scrolled through the photos at lightning speed.

“I—I was just saying, you’d better not post only me… that’d scare me to death…”

Tan Mo licked his lips, holding back a laugh. He moved a little closer to watch with him.

But Sang Ye shifted his body slightly, blocking Tan Mo’s view. “I’ll pick them first and then show you.”

After all, not every shot from a burst photo sequence turned out great.

Tan Mo glanced at his phone, hesitated for a second, then said, “Alright, you pick first.”

Just then, Yu Haotian pushed a cart into the room. “Come on, everyone gets a cupcake. Pick yours! Also, write two postcards as gifts for the fan giveaway.”

Sang Ye was too busy selecting photos and didn’t have time to bother with it.

Before leaving, Tan Mo joked, “Sang Ye, you don’t have a habit of snooping through other people’s phones, do you?”

Sang Ye frowned slightly and looked up. “I’m not interested in your phone.”

“That’s for the best.” Tan Mo left.

Sang Ye leaned against the windowsill, scrolling through his phone, but his energy seemed drained. It was like he had suddenly lost interest.

He had shared his phone and iPad passwords with Tan Mo before. Sometimes, when he was too busy, he’d just toss his phone to him and let him handle things—never once worrying that Tan Mo would go through his stuff.

But now, Tan Mo was guarding against him.

Sang Ye pressed his lips together, almost letting out a huff in frustration.

Not even a shred of trust.

He hastily selected five photos, saved them, and was about to turn off the screen with great resolve—afraid that Tan Mo might accuse him of snooping. But then he suddenly remembered: deleted photos still existed in the trash album. He had to delete them again.

Sang Ye had no choice but to navigate back to the photo album, silently chanting to himself, ‘I won’t look, I won’t look, I’m not snooping.’ He kept his eyes straight ahead as he went directly to the trash bin.

But despite his efforts, his gaze accidentally landed on a thumbnail in a different album—an image of his own face.

Sang Ye looked closer.

It was a photo he didn’t even remember being taken.

—A couple of days ago, it had snowed in Berlin. He was in his pajamas, kneeling on the bed, leaning against the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the snowfall.

His eyes shifted to the album title—“Sun.”

Next to it, the number 2331 was displayed, indicating the total number of photos inside.

Sang Ye pulled out his own phone, typed those three letters, and let the robotic voice read it aloud:

“Sun—太阳（sun）.”

He suddenly realized that this word sounded strikingly similar to his ID, Song.

He clicked into the album and scrolled up.

The screen was filled with nothing but pictures of him.

Him squatting on a chair, playing games.

Him curled up on the practice room’s sofa, hugging a pillow and sleeping.

Him throwing a frisbee with Tan Chunshan on the grass.

Him fiddling with his ear absentmindedly while playing on his phone.

Him holding a yogurt cup, his fingers wrapped around it.

Him with a bit of cream smeared on the corner of his lips…

Sang Ye dragged the scroll bar all the way to the top.

The first photo was a birthday picture—one he had posted on his social media.

The date on it was the day he officially joined WLG.

As he flipped through the pictures, his heart buzzed with a numb, tingling sensation.

He had always refused to let Tan Mo take pictures of him because he felt that being captured through Tan Mo’s lens was like being intensely observed by his eyes—so focused, so intentional. It made him flustered, unsure of how to react.

But now, Sang Ye realized that in all those moments when he had been completely unaware, Tan Mo had already been looking at him.

—Just like how he had always been looking at Tan Mo.

…

After receiving their cupcakes, everyone was busy writing postcards.

Sang Ye was the last to get his.

To his surprise, there was a tiny figurine of himself stuck on top of the cupcake—a chibi version with slightly messy white hair, arms crossed, looking proud and serious.

The event organizers had gone the extra mile this year, customizing a figurine for each player.

Sang Ye held the cupcake at a distance and snapped a picture with his phone.

The camera frame focused on the chibi figure atop the cupcake.

The lighting was a bit dim, so he shifted slightly to the side, allowing more light to illuminate the subject.

As Sang Ye moved again, a partial silhouette appeared in the background.

He paused for a moment before subtly adjusting the angle of his phone in that direction.

Tan Mo, tall and long-legged, was standing by a table against the wall. He had a disposable cup held between his lips, his head lowered. One hand was pressed against the table while the other held a pen as he wrote on a postcard.

Sang Ye’s gaze lingered on the blurred, towering figure in the background. Then, he pressed the shutter button.

After that, he lowered his head, tapped his phone a few times, and posted the cupcake photo featuring his chibi figurine on Weibo.

WLG-Song V:

Mine.

Cool or not?

---

Author’s note:

Song: Let me see which man is only paying attention to the cupcake and not to me.

---

This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi!  (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

---

Chapter 72 – Women’s Clothing Live Broadcast.

---

Sang Ye’s visa issue was resolved so quickly that even the WLG team, who had traveled all over the world, was surprised.

Xiao Pai, using his skills as a social butterfly, managed to get some information from Yu Haotian, saying that a big shot had guaranteed Sang Ye’s visa.

As for who the big shot was, Sang Ye didn’t know and just assumed it was someone in the club with connections.

Once all the paperwork was sorted, WLG confirmed the departure date, which was just two days away.

The night before departure, everyone left early to pack, and since Sang Ye had already packed a few days earlier, he decided to use the free time to do a live stream.

As soon as he opened the live stream, fans flooded in with congratulations, wishing him good luck at the Global Finals and hoping for great results.

[“The visa process went surprisingly fast, why was it blocked before?”]

[“Was it because of an unstable income?”]

[“He’s got a lot of endorsements and competitions, probably made millions this half-year. His worth might be right after Tan Mo’s, the undeniable rookie king.”]

[“Rapping really pays off, truly a “no money problems” couple.”]

[“I think it might be due to credit issues, which is why the approval was denied.”]

Sang Ye thought some of the comments were a joke and leaned back in his chair with his thermos cup: “Credit issues? No such thing. I don’t even use a credit card.”

[“Think harder, what do you owe?”]

“Stop trolling me,” Sang Ye said with an indifferent expression, already seeing through it. “The only thing I’ve borrowed from the library is a book on moral education, which I returned at the end of the semester. Except for the lack of ‘intelligence, physique, beauty, and labor,’ my virtue is top-notch.”

[“Almost forgot, Fu Gui, you’ve actually been to school.”]

Sang Ye stared at the scrolling comments for a few seconds and twisted the cap open. “Tch.”

[“You owe us almost a year’s worth of cross-dressing. If I were the visa officer, I wouldn’t let you leave the country.”]

“…………” Sang Ye didn’t even take a sip of water, stood up, and walked over to the computer to find the button to turn off the comments.

[“Hahahahahaha Fu Gui, why are you so quiet? The model student of moral education, speak up!”]

[“Fu Gui, you’re really going too far. Should we remind you on New Year’s Eve to pay up?”]

[“Song, you better think carefully. Not paying back your debts and ruining your credit is a character issue, and it might even affect your career in the gaming world.”]

“What do you mean ‘affect my career’? Delete that!” Sang Ye’s white hair stood on end.

If this had happened in the past, even if some haters tried to sabotage him, Sang Ye would’ve just scoffed and ignored it.

But now, this joke was no longer something to laugh about.

The Global Finals this year meant everything to Sang Ye. He had pinned all his hopes on it, and there was no room for error.

The fans didn’t mean anything by it, but Sang Ye took it to heart.

The concept of metaphysics is hard to explain. According to the Law of Conservation of Character and the Buddhist law of karma, it’s possible that because he had ignored his fans for half a year, during the Global Finals, he might end up facing some cosmic retribution. At that point, it would all be over for him.

— This thought was like a drop of ink in water, rapidly spreading and staining, impossible to stop.

Sang Ye had even started to imagine himself standing offstage, clapping, watching other teams lift the Global Finals trophy.

The audience didn’t know what had suddenly angered Sang Ye, and all they saw on camera was the previously mischievous boy suddenly quieting down. He slowly pulled his legs off the chair, glanced sideways, and began to nibble on his fingers.

[“Ahhhhhh I’m crying, he’s so cute!”]

[“I’ve screenshot and made a meme, with versions labeled “guilty.jpg”, “I’ll think about it.jpg”, “getting anxious.jpg”. Sisters, feel free to grab them in the fan club.”]

Sang Ye rested his hands on the table, his voice broken and rapid: “You—you all wait a minute, I’ll go get the cross-dressing clothes, ten minutes… Don’t spread the word. If you do, I’ll chop all of you.”

[“???”]

[“What does that mean?”]

[“This happiness came too suddenly.”]

The host disappeared from the live stream, leaving only a gaming chair angled at a certain direction and more than 5 million fans who still couldn’t believe what had just happened.

The cheongsam was still in the dormitory, and Sang Ye couldn’t possibly change into it and then go to the practice room. What if he ran into acquaintances or trainees on the way? He would lose all face.

After Sang Ye returned, he didn’t go straight into the practice room but instead entered a nearby auxiliary room to change.

When there were only two pieces of black thigh-high stockings left, Sang Ye held them up in front of his face for two seconds before putting them on.

— The last time in the dark, when Talk touched him, he wasn’t wearing stockings, but this time, since it was for others to see, he had to cover up as much as he could, hiding as much as possible.

Once he had finished dressing, Sang Ye opened the door and smoothed out his skirt with one hand.

Before, Sang Ye had resisted wearing women’s clothing because he thought it was a little strange for a man to do so. But now, he had found a righteous and unavoidable reason for it, so he had no psychological burden. He walked calmly into the nearby practice room.

Sang Ye approached the computer but didn’t sit down immediately.

The live stream clearly had no defenses. The bullet comments that had been buzzing with excitement just moments ago disappeared for half a second, and the entire screen cleared. Only a few question marks slid across the screen.

[“???”]

[“Who are you, girl?”]

The camera couldn’t capture the full body, and half of the view was blocked by the desk, but a figure appeared, wearing a crescent white cheongsam. The dress revealed a long neck, two arms in a soft pink hue, and a tight, seductive curve at the waist, accentuated by the smooth fabric.

Because the front of the dress was flat, the wearer didn’t exude a mature charm but instead conveyed a youthful, light, and innocent aura. However, at the bottom, near the high slit of the skirt, just above the desk, a strip of black lace peeked out from the thigh area, outlining a pale, flawless patch of skin.

The live stream couldn’t hold back anymore. In an instant, the comments flooded in, coming in fast and dense, so much so that the screen froze and became unreadable.

[“It’s over, I’m done for.”]

[“Song is too stunning!!! My number one cheongsam beauty!”]

[“Ahhhhhhh what do I do, I’m so excited! The months of waiting were worth it!”]

[“Baby, you’ve got me all hot and bothered.”]

[“Streamer, hurry up and show your face! Step back a little, let us see your whole body!”]

[“Where’s God Tan? Is Tan watching the stream? Tan, if you don’t show up, I’m going to leave you!”]

The bullet comments were moving too fast for Sang Ye to keep up, so he bent down, one hand on the desk and the other holding the mouse, moving closer to the screen.

In the frame, the soft white line of his jaw appeared, but the camera still didn’t capture his full face, leaving everyone anxious and eager to see more.

Sang Ye finally noticed the number of viewers in the top right corner. Before he left, the live stream had only five million followers, but in just ten minutes, it had surged to ten million and was still climbing, about to break twelve million.

“Are you even human?”

Sang Ye cursed under his breath. He had told them not to spread the word, not to make a big deal of it, yet this group had no integrity.

“Where did the extra five million viewers come from? If you’re not my fan, get out.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than the number of followers jumped from eight million to nine million, marking the most dramatic increase in live-streaming platform history.

[“Tonight, we’re all your fans.”]

Sang Ye muttered angrily, but he couldn’t care less about these shameless people. He pulled out the gaming chair and was about to sit down.

The fans were also eagerly awaiting the moment they’d finally see Sang Ye’s face.

At that moment, a harsh “screech—” of shoes scraping across the marble floor echoed from outside the door.

Sang Ye turned to look.

Tan Mo slid past the door, stretching out a long arm to grab the doorframe, halting himself and pulling back.

“…”

Sang Ye stopped moving, looking bewildered.

He said he had never seen Tan Mo so panicked.

Tan Mo might have come running, his hair was slightly messy, he rubbed his face while panting, walked in, and without saying anything, he grabbed Sang Ye’s slender arm and pulled him away from the chair.

He glanced at the colorful screen filled with barrages, then leaned on the edge of the table with his back to the camera, and pulled Sang Ye back to stand in front of him.

[“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! Tan Shen! Tan Shen, get out of the way! I can’t see anything!”]

[“I’m so anxious! Emma! These two people! Tan Mo, get out of the way!”]

Facing Tan Mo sitting on the table, Sang Ye was still in a daze, not understanding why the man suddenly appeared.

Tan Mo let go of Sang Ye at this time, and instead put his hands around his thin waist, suddenly pinched him hard, and held Sang Ye towards him: “You play pretty wild, huh?”

The live stream picked up the sound, and the bullet comments froze.

The man’s voice was soft, naturally deep and magnetic. His final words carried a subtle breathlessness, a raspy undertone caused by his unsteady breathing—utterly intoxicating.

[“Be like: Even while working hard, he still remembers to talk to Song.”]

[“AHHHHHHHHHH!”]

The sisters, overwhelmed by the mental image they had just conjured, screamed and smacked each other in excitement.

Sang Ye nearly lost all air in his lungs from the sudden grip around his waist. Then, as Tan Mo pulled him closer, he lost his balance and stumbled forward, landing right in front of the man. In a panic, he reached out and grabbed onto Tan Mo’s shoulders.

So, what the audience saw was this—on Tan Mo’s broad shoulders, ten slender, slightly reddened fingers gripping tightly.

Even though they couldn’t see the full scene, just from this single frame, they could imagine everything.

This position was too suggestive—it was enough to make noses bleed!

Sang Ye averted his gaze, not daring to look directly at Tan Mo, and muttered, “I wasn’t messing around… I just wanted to clear my debts before leaving the country.”

Tan Mo instantly understood that it was the chaos in the live chat that had driven Sang Ye to do this. He looked Sang Ye up and down, taking in the full view.

Touching him last time was one kind of experience; seeing him this time was another.

—Both were enjoyable.

“I told you to wear it before, and you refused no matter what…” Tan Mo lowered his head, hooked a single finger under the black lace trim, tugged it slightly, and then let go.

With a crisp snap, the fabric flicked back against soft, pale skin, leaving behind a faint red mark.

Sang Ye’s face instantly flushed as he shifted uncomfortably.

“Who told you to wear black stockings?” Tan Mo looked up, his gaze dark and intense. “I didn’t even get that privilege last time.”

“…To cover up,” Sang Ye mumbled. “It’s more modest.”

Tan Mo took a deep breath.

Did he even know what “modest” meant?

No one dressed modestly in black stockings.

Tan Mo took off his team jacket, revealing the loose white T-shirt underneath.

The bullet comments exploded in shock:

[“What? What’s going on with you two? Is this the start of premium content?”]

Then, Tan Mo draped the jacket over Sang Ye’s shoulders.

[“??????”]

He zipped it all the way up to the top, nearly burying Sang Ye’s chin inside the collar.

Tan Mo’s jacket was way too big for Sang Ye, covering even his thighs.

Sang Ye lifted his long lashes—fluttering like a delicate fan—and glanced at him shyly, still professional: “I still need to stream.”

Tan Mo patted his head, then turned toward the screen behind them, addressing the viewers in the livestream: “He’s worn the outfit now. No one is allowed to bring it up again.”

The chat immediately erupted in protest.

[“We haven’t even seen it yet! You blocked everything!”]

[“How does this count? If we didn’t see it, it doesn’t count!”]

Tan Mo said, “As long as I’ve seen it, that’s enough.”

[“WHY THOUGH?!”]

Tan Mo turned back, pressing Sang Ye down into the gaming chair while still blocking the camera. His gaze lowered as he gently stroked Sang Ye’s warm, delicate cheek.

Then, with a slight tug at the corner of his lips—

“Sorry, that’s a privilege reserved for one half of a couple.”

After a moment of lag, the chat completely lost its mind.

Sang Ye, not quite understanding, just stared at Tan Mo in a daze.

Tan Mo gave his cheek a squeeze, then pushed off the desk with his foot and stepped aside. “I’ll be in the manager’s office. Call me when your stream is done… and don’t take off the jacket.”

“…Oh.”

Tan Mo left.

Sang Ye leaned toward his computer, finding the chat even more chaotic than before—so dense that he couldn’t read a single word. The only thing he could make out was an overwhelming flood of [“AHHHHHHH”] spam.

“Stop making noise. The whole outfit thing is over, and no more talk about my luck at the world tournament. I’m playing now.”

Just as Sang Ye was about to turn off the chat—

A bold, oversized comment floated above the overlapping barrage of messages—it was from a VIP fan explaining:

[Kapuo—Couple—Husband and wife, a pair, the full term for what we usually call CP.]

Sang Ye blinked, his expression momentarily blank. But his heart gave an unmistakably honest reaction—pounding so hard it felt like it might jump out of his chest.

He swallowed discreetly, moving his mouse away from the [Close Chat] button, minimizing the livestream window—only to remember he hadn’t actually turned off the chat. So he pulled it back up again.

But when he saw the flood of [“Ahhhhhhh”] still filling the screen, Sang Ye licked his lips. One corner of his mouth pressed into a straight line, while the other quivered upward in a smile he simply couldn’t suppress.

“Stop yelling, stop yelling.”

The moment he spoke, he lost his composure. His gaze immediately dropped, and he bit down on the collar of the oversized jacket, his flushed face looking incredibly endearing.

It was a smile so filled with emotion that even through the screen, the viewers could feel his heart racing.

Sang Ye simply turned off the camera, leaving only the gameplay visible in the stream.

But by then, many fans had already recovered from the emotional shock and were celebrating with pure joy.

[“My wish has been granted—THE SHIP IS REAL!!!”]

…

The next day, WLG’s world championship team set off, consisting of the four starting players and the substitute, E Lan.

Their journey from Shanghai involved a layover in Frankfurt before arriving in Berlin—nearly sixteen hours of exhausting travel, completely flipping their day and night cycle.

Sang Ye only remembered that when they departed, it was dark outside. And when they finally landed at their destination and stepped out of the airport, it was still dark.

Berlin was freezing.

Standing by the roadside, Sang Ye let out a small sneeze.

Before leaving, Fang Yuerong had repeatedly reminded him to dress warmly.

Initially, Sang Ye hadn’t paid much attention—he was the type to refuse wearing thermal leggings in winter, prioritizing style over warmth even if he was freezing to death.

But then Fang Yuerong had said, [The tournament lasts three weeks. If you catch a cold, get a fever, and can’t play your best—if you don’t make it to the finals…]

“MOM! STOP! I’LL WEAR IT ALL!”

And so, before departure, Sang Ye bundled himself up into a walking ball of fluff.

Hearing the soft sneeze, Tan Mo took off his black Gucci knit wool hat and placed it snugly over Sang Ye’s head.

“Cold?”

Sang Ye obediently let Tan Mo put the hat on him. “I’m fine.”

The temperature difference was just a bit extreme after stepping out of the airport.

Sang Ye had a small face and a small head, and with the knitted hat on, his face looked even tinier—barely the size of a palm.

Just as Tan Mo finished adjusting the hat, his fingers paused. Then, he folded the brim down, covering Sang Ye’s eyes.

Blinded, Sang Ye had no choice but to tilt his head up. “What are you doing?”

Tan Mo held his head still, suppressing a laugh as he gazed at the boy’s delicate, fair features under the streetlights. He suddenly had a strong urge to kiss him.

Sang Ye flailed his hands, letting out a distressed “Awooo!” as he struggled. “Stop messing with me!”

Yu Haotian, meanwhile, was busy checking vehicle license plates against his phone. Suddenly, he waved at the group. “Quit fooling around! Get in the car!”

Once inside, Xiao Pai, struggling with international roaming, refreshed his Weibo feed and whined sourly, “Bai Mao, do you even know that just from your—no, actually, the night before last—crossdressing livestream, you gained nearly three million followers on the platform?”

Sang Ye blinked. “I didn’t know.”

“…”

How infuriating.

Xiao Pai continued grumbling, “And that crossdressing stream of yours was way too half-assed. You didn’t even show your face! Everyone barely got a glimpse before you covered up with a jacket.”

“None of your business.”

That’s what Sang Ye said, but deep down, he had some doubts.

Was it really me who didn’t let them see…?

He sneaked a glance at the man sitting beside him.

Tan Mo was calmly scrolling on his phone, looking completely unbothered, as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

Xiao Pai kept browsing for a while, then suddenly said, “The internet is saying you two are together.”

“…Cough!” Sang Ye sucked in a sharp breath, only to choke on his own saliva, breaking into a fit of coughing.

Tan Mo reached over, patting his back while lazily glancing at him. “Oh yeah?”

Sang Ye’s face flushed from the coughing, and when he met Tan Mo’s gaze, he quickly looked away.

“Yeah,” Xiao Pai answered, not realizing Tan Mo had been talking to Sang Ye. Sitting in the front row, he couldn’t see behind him. “Tons of people are tagging the official account, asking for confirmation. Bai Mao, have you seen it?”

Sang Ye yanked the brim of his hat down and slumped against the car window.

Xiao Pai called his name twice but got no response. He turned around and frowned. “He was awake just a second ago. Did he seriously just fall asleep?”

Hu Fu guessed, “Probably exhausted? I don’t even wanna shower when we get to the hotel—I just wanna pass out.”

“Then I’m definitely not sharing a room with you.” Xiao Pai turned back to his phone, muttering to himself after a while, “But honestly, people have been saying Tan Shen and Bai Mao were a thing for ages. Why do they still refuse to give up?”

“……”

Sang Ye had nothing to say.

He had been pretending to sleep at first, but after the car rocked him back and forth for a while, he actually dozed off.

Tan Mo heard a faint thud as Sang Ye’s head bumped against the glass. Without even glancing away from his phone, he reached out and pulled Sang Ye’s head over, letting it rest on his shoulder.

After finishing his conversation with another team captain, Tan Mo put away his phone, planning to close his eyes and rest. But when he glanced down, he saw Sang Ye’s sleeping face.

With his hat covering his forehead, only the lower half of his face was visible. Maybe it was because he was bundled up too warmly, but his cheeks were flushed pink, and his slightly parted lips were a soft, dewy red.

He looked like a little kid.

Tan Mo watched him for a moment, then, taking advantage of their secluded spot in the very back corner of the bus, he leaned in closer—

But just then, the bus lurched forward and came to a stop.

Sang Ye slid forward slightly from the momentum, jolting awake. He immediately sat up, his upper body swaying a little as he struggled to fully wake up.

Pushing his hat brim up, he licked his lips and mumbled drowsily, “I fell asleep.”

“I know.” Tan Mo averted his gaze and stood up to grab his bag. “Even asleep, you won’t let me kiss you.”

Sang Ye: “?”

This time, for the global tournament, they weren’t staying at a hotel. The event organizers had booked an entire residential community for the teams, complete with practice rooms, a cafeteria, a convenience store, a gym—everything they could possibly need.

WLG was likely the last team to arrive.

After getting off the bus, they dragged their luggage to their assigned building. Once inside, the administrator handed each of them an information form.

Since the form was entirely in English, Sang Ye had no choice but to ask Tan Mo for help filling it out.

Tan Mo sat on the couch, leaning forward as he wrote on the paper, which he had propped against the coffee table.

Sang Ye crouched beside the table, watching him write.

Talk’s handwriting is really nice—even his Arabic numerals look good.

As he admired the handwriting, Tan Mo suddenly paused and asked, “Which room do you want to stay in?”

Sang Ye was caught off guard. He glanced around in confusion. “Isn’t it pre-assigned?”

Tan Mo pointed to a section on the form and pushed the paper and pen toward him. “You need to write down your preferred room number here. Fill it out and give it back to me when you’re done.”

Almost instinctively, Sang Ye’s eyes flicked to Tan Mo’s form—room 506.

He picked up the pen, scratched his head as he stared at the form, then got up and walked over to Xiao Pai to check his form.

“What are you looking at? Room numbers? You’re staying with me again this time, right?” Xiao Pai said. “I’m in 513.”

Sang Ye responded with an “Oh” but didn’t confirm. He also took a quick glance at E Lan’s form.

E Lan had written down 521.

Sang Ye returned to the coffee table, ready to write. But just as he was about to put pen to paper, he hesitated, biting the pen cap as he frowned at the blank space.

Anyone who didn’t know better would think he was trying to prove Lagrange’s theorem.

Tan Mo pulled out his phone and played with it, not looking at Sang Ye. In a low voice, just loud enough for the two of them to hear, he said, “You don’t need to overthink it. Pick whatever room you want… I told you before, I won’t pressure you.”

Sang Ye pressed his lips together, then carefully started writing.

“5—1—”

Before he could even finish the second number—swish!—a long, slender hand suddenly pulled the paper away from above. The pen was snatched, too.

“……”

Sang Ye looked up.

Tan Mo pressed the paper against the coffee table, head lowered, and drew two heavy slashes over “51.”

“Sang Ye, you can’t keep spoiling yourself, you know? People grow under pressure.”

“……”

Sang Ye watched in silent disbelief as Tan Mo firmly wrote “506” on the form in one smooth stroke.

D*mn it.

…

Unless explicitly marked as a single room, each room had two beds.

When Sang Ye first entered, he was on high alert, his mind racing with all sorts of scenarios—like Tan Mo shutting the door as soon as they got inside and pinning him to the bed or something…

But after showering, getting into his own little bed, and tucking himself in, nothing happened.

Tan Mo had turned on a soft moon-shaped night light. Right before sleeping, he hesitated for a moment before finally switching it off.

Lying there, Sang Ye realized that rooming with Tan Mo was actually pretty nice.

Tan Mo was neat, quiet, and considerate. He had packed all the essentials, making him an even better roommate than Xiaopai.

In the darkness, Sang Ye blinked twice, then turned over to face Tan Mo’s side of the room. In a whisper, he called out, “Tal—k…”

“There’s no one else here,” Tan Mo replied. “Just say it.”

“……”

Sang Ye hesitated for a moment, rubbing his nose against the blanket before quietly asking, “Why did you insist on rooming with me?”

“To make sure you don’t stay up playing on your phone.”

“……”

Sang Ye turned the other way and pulled the blanket over himself.

Not playing with you anymore.

…

The first two days after arriving were mainly spent adjusting to the time difference. After that, the team had scheduled promotional shoots and training matches, so everyone in WLG slept in a bit later on the second day.

Sang Ye was quick to get moving and arrived at the community cafeteria ahead of the others. By then, most people were already having lunch. Looking around, he saw mostly blond-haired, blue-eyed foreigners, as well as some with Southeast Asian features.

Since no one was wearing team uniforms, it was impossible to tell which team they belonged to, but a few faces looked familiar from videos Sang Ye had seen before.

Not knowing the language, Sang Ye had no choice but to point at the menu while ordering: “This one, this one, and this one…”

Just as he sat down with his tray, a blond foreigner approached, looking both nervous and excited.

The guy gestured animatedly and spoke a string of words. Sang Ye assumed he wanted to share the table. Since the table was big, he casually lifted his chin toward an empty seat, indicating that it was fine.

However, even after sitting down, the guy kept talking to him.

At that point, Sang Ye had no choice but to pull out Google Translate.

Just then, Tan Mo arrived.

He sat down across from Sang Ye and asked, “What’s going on?”

Sang Ye replied, “No idea what he wants.”

Tan Mo exchanged a few words with the guy before turning to Sang Ye and saying, “He’s French. Wants to say a couple of things to you.”

“Oh, okay,” Sang Ye responded indifferently. He wasn’t particularly interested, so he just set the translator to French and left it there.

Tan Mo agreed to translate for the guy.

The Frenchman looked at Sang Ye with an intense gaze. But as soon as he spoke, Tan Mo’s expression became noticeably neutral.

The guy glanced at Tan Mo expectantly, urging him to translate.

Tan Mo picked up a warm towel, wiped his hands, and then said to Sang Ye, “You are the most exquisite Eastern beauty I have ever seen.”

“……”

Sang Ye’s hand trembled, nearly spilling the soft-boiled egg from his spoon. He looked up at Tan Mo.

Typical French—passionate and expressive.

But hearing those words come from Tan Mo made things feel… different.

As if Talk himself was saying them to him.

Sang Ye’s face started to heat up.

The Frenchman continued.

Tan Mo translated, “The sun, moon, and stars would all pale in comparison to you.”

Sang Ye’s breath grew a little unsteady. He clutched his napkin nervously.

Tan Mo continued, “Like a summer straight out of Shakespeare’s sonnets.”

“……”

Sang Ye immediately buried his head.

Then, the Frenchman spoke once more, “Can I have your contact information?”

But this time, Tan Mo said nothing.

The blond guy looked at Tan Mo and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Tan Mo replied with a single sentence: “Il est à moi.”

For a moment, the guy’s expression changed dramatically. He glanced at Sang Ye, then at Tan Mo, hesitating with a flushed face before quickly walking away.

Sang Ye was confused. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Tan Mo replied casually. “Eat your food.”

Sang Ye made a sound of acknowledgment and didn’t question it, lowering his head to continue eating.

When he had almost finished, he picked up his phone and saw a new notification.

As he unlocked the screen, he realized the translation app was still open, and the last recorded phrase was displayed on the screen—

[He is mine.]

---

This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi!  (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

---

Chapter 71 – Tell The Truth After Drinking.

---

Tan Mo was pulled down by Sang Ye, his back bending lower. Just as their noses were about to touch, he stopped.

There were no streetlights nearby, but the moonlight tonight was bright, casting a soft glow on the boy’s flushed face.

In this quiet, cool natural light, Tan Mo’s gaze swept over Sang Ye’s face inch by inch, memorizing every detail. Even years later, when he recalled this moment, his heart would still flutter.

—The boy’s eyes shimmered like rippling water, his delicate, snow-white skin tinged with a natural, healthy blush. His lips were like moist flower petals, fragile enough to crumble with the slightest touch.

Even this close, the scent of alcohol couldn’t mask the fresh, sweet fragrance of his skin.

His eyes, his face, his entire being—his very existence—was a temptation as forbidden as the fruit in the Garden of Eden.

Sang Ye tightened his arms around Tan Mo’s neck, clinging like a restless little puppy, letting out a soft, impatient whimper. “You’re ignoring me…”

“I’m not ignoring you. But first, be honest with me,” Tan Mo’s voice remained steady, though unintentionally husky. “What did you tell your parents about me?”

Sang Ye’s lips curled up slightly. His long lashes drooped halfway, making him look smug. “I told them… you like me.”

Tan Mo’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His fingers clenched against the wooden bench, barely holding back an impulse. “Just that?”

For a split second, Sang Ye reacted like a sensitive mimosa plant touched at its softest spot—his grip loosened, his once-proud posture lowered. Looking up at Tan Mo with his black-and-white eyes, he appeared both innocent and pitiful.

“…Just that,” he murmured.

Tan Mo stared at him in silence. And in that moment, he realized—there was something Sang Ye refused to admit, something he kept buried deep inside, even in his drunken state.

“If you don’t say anything, I’ll assume you’re avoiding me,” Tan Mo said bluntly. “I only brought Xiao Pai along when picking you up because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m not forcing you to give me an answer. You don’t need to answer me now. I just want to know why you won’t admit it.”

Sang Ye finally let go completely, lowering his head and twisting his fingers together.

A long, long silence followed.

But Tan Mo remained patient, simply watching and waiting.

At last, Sang Ye hesitantly spoke, his voice slow and uncertain—

When Sang Ye saw Tan Mo as his idol, he could give his love freely and without hesitation—it never felt exhausting.

But when Tan Mo said he liked him, Sang Ye began to crave Tan Mo’s love in return. Yet, at the same time, he doubted—was someone like him really worthy of it? And even if he was, how much of it could he truly receive?

The mockery and insults from the internet never made him feel inferior. But Tan Mo’s love did.

Tan Mo’s heart ached for him. Keeping his expression neutral, he freed a hand and gently wiped the dampness from the corner of Sang Ye’s eyes.

Only now did he finally understand why this little liar had been avoiding giving him an answer.

—It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He just didn’t dare to.

Sang Ye had listed out all the ways in which he fell short. The more he dwelled on it, the more he wanted to hide himself. The closer Tan Mo got, the further into a corner he shrank. But he also knew that he couldn’t keep going like this. The only way he could think of to “save” himself was to win a world championship—to compensate for his perceived shortcomings and to add more weight to his worthiness of being loved.

“You…” Tan Mo started to say something, but looking at the tipsy boy in front of him, he licked his lips and stopped himself.

Sang Ye only saw what he lacked—he never realized what he had.

After all these years of looking up at others, he had forgotten to look down and appreciate just how precious and remarkable he was.

Tan Mo lightly patted Sang Ye’s cheek and said, “We’ll talk when you’re sober.”

Sang Ye shifted to the side, resting his head on Tan Mo’s arm, which was propped against the bench. “I am sober.”

Tan Mo asked, “So if you don’t win the championship, are you planning to give up on me too?”

Sang Ye suddenly smacked Tan Mo’s arm, his expression serious. “Don’t jinx me! Warning you now—I’m very fierce.”

Tan Mo chuckled. “So, it looks like you’re determined to have me, no matter what.”

“…” Sang Ye instinctively wanted to argue, but he reacted half a beat too slow. In the end, he muttered, unconvinced, “You’re not wrong.”

Tan Mo reached out and ruffled his hair.

Adorable. Absolutely brainless.

But gradually, Sang Ye’s lashes drooped, and his small face visibly dimmed. “But I can’t even step out the door right now… I might not be able to play this year.”

Tan Mo wasn’t the least bit concerned. “That’s something your father-in-law can fix with a single phone call.”

Sang Ye didn’t catch his meaning right away. He lifted his gaze and drew out a confused, “Huh—?”

“Come here,” Tan Mo said softly.

Sang Ye’s eyes flickered, and in an instant, he forgot all about the conversation. “Why?”

But even as he asked, he instinctively leaned in, his lips parting slightly without realizing it.

Tan Mo lowered his head and kissed him—deep and unrelenting.

Sang Ye was nearly out of breath.

But just as quickly, Tan Mo let go of him.

Sang Ye stared at the man in front of him, dazed.

Tan Mo placed both hands on Sang Ye’s lower back, lifting the boy seated on the bench. “Get up.”

“No… why… I don’t want to go back yet…”

“I want to kiss you while standing.”

…

Beside the park bench, their shadows stretched long under the dim light. The silhouettes of trees swayed gently in the October night breeze, casting flickering patterns over them.

After a long, long time, the two figures—one tall, one short—finally parted as if melting away from each other.

With an arm still supporting his waist, Sang Ye leaned back, feeling like the whole world was spinning. He was dizzy beyond belief.

At the same time, he felt incredibly happy, grinning as his eyes curved into crescents. “You kissed me so much I’m going to pass out~”

Tan Mo held him close, steadying his breath, and whispered against his ear, “I was the one being kissed…”

That last word was deliberately softened, but Sang Ye still caught it.

His face heated up. He glanced at Tan Mo and murmured a tiny protest, “You’re mean.”

The hand pressing against Sang Ye’s lower back tightened ever so slightly, pulling him even closer.

The cool night breeze brushed against Sang Ye’s skin as he tilted his head up toward the sky. The deep blue clouds hung heavy like an oil painting. There weren’t any stars like the ones he could see back home, but it was still breathtaking. He couldn’t help but sigh out loud in admiration, “It’s so hard!”

Tan Mo immediately clamped a hand over his mouth. “………”

After standing for a while longer, Sang Ye’s intoxication finally caught up with him, making him too dizzy to walk.

Tan Mo crouched down and carried him on his back.

Sang Ye sprawled over the broad shoulders, his long arms and legs dangling lazily. His cheek rested against Tan Mo’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut as he drifted into a sleepy daze. Even then, he was still mumbling—

“I’m going to win the championship…”

Tan Mo walked steadily, his lips tugging into a small, helpless smile.

The voice behind him grew fainter, like the murmurs of a dream—

“I’m going to give it to you…”

Tan Mo’s gaze softened. “Thank you.”

“…As a dowry…”

“……”

…

When Sang Ye woke up the next day, it was already close to eleven. He squinted his eyes and frantically checked the date.

Sunday. No training.

With a soft plop, his white-haired head flopped back onto the pillow.

The October sunlight was gentle, neither too harsh nor too weak, spilling through the open window and creeping onto the boy’s bare, fair calves, tickling slightly.

Sang Ye instinctively curled his legs in reaction to the sensation. He lingered in bed for a while longer, until his mind gradually cleared. Then, he turned over, lay flat on his back, and slowly opened his eyes.

The memories of last night were soaked in alcohol, scattered into blurry fragments.

He remembered feeling down, drinking a lot… and crying?

Who was with him at the time?

Was it Talk?

He vaguely recalled stopping to rest at the small public park behind the base on the way back.

Sitting up, Sang Ye spaced out for a moment, then rubbed his hair before getting out of bed to wash up.

While brushing his teeth in front of the mirror, he noticed a red mark along the sharp angle of his jaw.

He leaned closer to the mirror, tilting his face to examine it.

The mark was a deep, muted crimson, standing out starkly against his pale, thin skin.

“…What the hell?” Sang Ye frowned, baffled.

And then, in the very next second, a flood of sensory memories surged back, shocking his nerves.

—Dark woods, a park bench, the firm embrace of a man, the wet warmth between lips and tongue…

—“Get up… I want to kiss you while standing…”

Talk wouldn’t even let him sit and rest properly.

And the very last thing he recalled was… something pressing against him…

Sang Ye’s breath hitched for a full five seconds.

Then, without a word, he lowered his head and resumed brushing his teeth, his face blank.

Just what the hell had Talk done to him while he was drunk?!

…

Sang Ye picked up a packed lunch and headed to the practice room. He hesitated at the door for a moment, then stepped inside, moving cautiously as if trying to avoid attention.

However, inside the practice room, only Xiao Pai and Hu Fu were present.

That’s when Sang Ye remembered—on non-training days, Tan Mo would likely go home.

Xiao Pai turned around. “Bai Mao.”

Sang Ye instinctively propped his chin up with his hand, trying to cover that spot, and looked at him. “What?”

Xiao Pai asked, “Just checking—are you okay?”

Sang Ye turned his head away, confused. “What could possibly be wrong with me?”

“Hey, don’t force yourself,” Xiao Pai said, genuinely concerned. “No one at the table managed to keep an eye on you last night, and you ended up drinking way too much. Luckily, my brother showed up… Oh, right, you remember all this, right? No blackout?”

Sang Ye didn’t turn back, but the side of his neck flushed red. He waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t remember. Don’t talk to me about last night.”

“What’s the big deal?” Xiao Pai let out a “ha!” and said, “Everyone at the table has been drunk at some point. You actually handle your alcohol pretty well—you just sat there giggling. When Old Hu gets wasted, he’s the type to start kissing people.”

Sang Ye buried his head lower, practically hiding in his takeout box, grateful that he didn’t have a habit of hugging and kissing people when drunk.

But Talk…

How could Talk…

Sang Ye furrowed his brows, turning the situation over in his mind from every angle, but nothing made sense. In the end, he sighed inwardly and decided to stop thinking about it.

The fact that Tan Mo would take advantage of him like that was completely beyond his expectations.

…

After finishing his meal, Sang Ye browsed the forums for a while. The news about his visa rejection had spread throughout the esports community, and netizens were actively discussing it.

Original Post: [This is absolutely ridiculous. He got an invitation to Worlds and still can’t go?]

1st Comment: [An invitation is useless. The visa officers don’t care; they treat everyone the same. Plus, there’s a lot of complicated politics involved in this.]

2nd Comment: [Ugh, I really didn’t expect this to happen. I was looking forward to seeing Songbao and Tan God on the same stage at Worlds, but now it’s completely impossible.]

3rd Comment: [It’s so messed up. Song was the one who turned things around at the last moment to secure the team’s Worlds spot, and now he can’t even go himself.]

…..

94L: [Could it be that Song was rejected because of his poor spoken English?]

95L: [What does a gamer need good spoken English for? They’ll definitely arrange a team translator for Worlds.]

96L: [I wonder what the visa officer was thinking. With Song’s poor English, he’s probably the least likely to get a visa.]

…

250L: [Hahahaha, good rejection, excellent rejection, this is so satisfying. Without this little marketing prince, the PCL players can finally focus on their games!]

251L: [The person above must be sick, remember to take your medicine.]

Sang Ye liked the [remember to take your medicine] comment, then closed the forum and opened a custom room in the game.

Whether he could participate in Worlds was still uncertain, and his mindset was definitely affected.

But he couldn’t let the uncertainty about his visa stop him from training.

It was already mid-October, and while WLG was still stuck due to visa issues, players from other countries had already started heading to Berlin, the location for this year’s Global Invitational.

BTF was flying out today and waiting at the airport.

Gal posted a selfie on Twitter, taken from a high angle that made him look very confident.

[We’re coming for Worlds [sunglasses]. I’ve adjusted my mindset, nothing is going to take me down this time.]

As soon as he posted, one of his underlings couldn’t believe it and said, “Boss, that kid isn’t participating in Worlds this year, Song, the one from WLG.”

Gal raised an eyebrow, adjusted his sunglasses, and shrugged. “What a shame. Last time he got away with an eye injury, but I was hoping to show him the harsh reality of the world. Looks like I’ll have to leave that for next year… Why can’t he play this time?”

“Visa got rejected,” the underling said with a grin. “From what the netizens are saying, it’s because his English isn’t good enough. They say he couldn’t understand English, so he couldn’t get the visa.”

Gal paused for a moment before asking, “He doesn’t understand English?”

The underling replied, “That’s what they’re saying.”

Gal took off his sunglasses, slouched in his chair, and wiped his face in frustration.

The first day heading to Worlds, and his mindset was already falling apart.

When Sang Ye practiced until nearly two in the afternoon, he took his thermos and headed to the tea room to get some water.

As soon as he reached the door, he saw Tan Mo rummaging through the top storage cabinet.

Hearing the noise, Tan Mo turned around, and their eyes met.

“Hey.”

“Hey… hey.”

Sang Ye stood hesitantly at the door, holding the cup.

Tan Mo pulled out a box of new tissues, casually tossed it aside, and stepped aside, leaning against the edge of the counter.

Seeing that Tan Mo didn’t seem like he was going to leave anytime soon, Sang Ye gathered his courage and went inside to get water, with his back to the man.

“I thought you went home.”

Tan Mo asked from behind, “When have I ever gone home without telling you first?”

Sang Ye closed his mouth and didn’t reply.

The water dispenser made a bubbling sound, and Sang Ye released the switch.

Tan Mo placed one hand on the counter behind him and asked, “Are you awake now?”

Sang Ye glanced back, screwed the cap back on, turned around, and stood a little distance away from Tan Mo. His nervous hands twisted the bottle, and his face turned slightly red. “I’m awake now. Last night, I… drank a bit too much…”

“I understand,” Tan Mo lowered his eyes and said, “Men… we all have our limits sometimes.”

“…”

Tan Mo said, “Let’s talk about our situation.”

Sang Ye blinked. “Our situation?”

The confused expression on his face seemed to say, What situation could we have? He shrugged it off entirely.

Tan Mo looked at him for two seconds and nodded. “If you don’t remember, that’s fine. Just listen to me.”

Sang Ye, however, became a little flustered by Tan Mo’s words, gripping his thermos tightly.

Did they talk last night?

What did they talk about?

Tan Mo said, “I liked you from the first time I saw your livestream. I simply thought you were good-looking, nothing more.”

“…” Sang Ye was caught off guard, his hand shaking as he almost dropped the cup. He barely managed to steady it, calming his nearly erratic heartbeat, and asked, “W-what livestream?”

“The one where you were connected with Lu Qikai,” Tan Mo replied.

Sang Ye’s face burned up, and he could hardly look Tan Mo in the eye. “I didn’t even notice you.”

“Xiao Pai dragged me into watching it, but I didn’t log into the main account,” Tan Mo said casually, continuing, “But that’s not the point. The point is, after getting to know you, your personality really clicked with me. So you don’t need to be anyone else; just be the way you are, and I’ve liked you like this, from the past until now.”

Sang Ye rubbed his face, feeling so embarrassed he was about to explode. “What did I say to you last night?”

Tan Mo looked at him, tilting his head. “You said a lot.”

“What?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“…”

“I’ve said enough,” Tan Mo straightened up and walked over to Sang Ye, looking down at him. “I hope you won’t doubt that I like you anymore, and don’t equate my liking you with your worth.”

Tan Mo didn’t believe that just a few words could ease Sang Ye’s inner unease. He also didn’t care to repeat “I like you”—if a man only has words, Tan Mo himself would advise Sang Ye to stay away, because such a man is not only useless, but getting close to him would also bring misfortune.

Sang Ye was still too young. Even though he appeared proud like a little lion on the outside, he was still filled with fear about many things he had never experienced in this world. He was using what he thought was the right way to protect himself from getting hurt.

Tan Mo was willing to wait for Sang Ye to grow.

Sang Ye felt a bit desperate, wondering if he had asked Tan Mo “Why do you like me?” last night, that kind of unbearable question. He didn’t know how to respond to Tan Mo’s confession again.

In the end, he hung his head in defeat. “Thank you…”

“Don’t thank me so soon,” Tan Mo said. “I won’t be careful with you anymore, and there’s no use hiding.”

Sang Ye looked up, confused. “Huh?”

“Huh, what?” Tan Mo’s gaze slid to the side of Sang Ye’s jaw, raising his hand to gently rub the little mark, like a strawberry. “Just so you know, I’m a man who has feelings for you. You walk around in front of me every day, and never reject me. It makes it very easy for me to get impulsive.”

Sang Ye felt a little ticklish from Tan Mo’s touch. The little strawberry mark on his chin was almost ripe. He awkwardly pulled back his neck, then, in a more obedient tone, asked, “How should I reject you?”

Tan Mo paused for a moment, then lowered his hand. “Don’t treat me like an idol. If there’s anything you don’t want, just say no, and I’ll understand.”

“Okay… got it.” Sang Ye lowered his eyelashes, his gaze shifting elsewhere, his cheeks turning bright red.

Tan Mo glanced at Sang Ye’s thermos, about to ask if he wanted to leave.

At that moment, Sang Ye looked up at him, his eyes soft and dark, his face slightly troubled. “Can we not do what we did last night again?”

“…” Tan Mo blinked slowly, confused. “What do you mean by that?”

“When I’m sober, it’s fine to do that kind of thing… well, not exactly fine, but everything can be discussed…”

Sang Ye rubbed his burning face again. It was still a bit embarrassing and difficult to say it out loud, but since Talk had already said it, he had the right to refuse.

“When I’m drunk, you shouldn’t kiss… kiss me anymore. It feels a bit strange, especially since you did it when I wasn’t prepared… it’s not very good. If there’s another time, I’ll be really worried…”

Sang Ye thought far ahead, thinking that this time it was just a kiss while he was drunk. But what if next time, when he wakes up, he finds himself lying on Tan Mo’s bed?

“……..”

Tan Mo clarified one thing: Sang Ye had completely forgotten everything from last night. If Sang Ye did happen to remember something, his impression of Tan Mo would probably be that he had some special fetish.

Tan Mo suddenly understood—Sang Ye was the type to sleep around and leave right after.

Sang Ye didn’t look at Tan Mo, feeling uneasy inside, especially since this was the first time he had pointed out that his idol did something wrong.

Then, with a loud “bang,” Sang Ye jumped in surprise.

Tan Mo placed both hands on the counter on either side of Sang Ye’s back and stepped closer. His body leaned over, and his breath grazed Sang Ye’s eyelids, making the hair on his skin tingle.

Sang Ye scratched his itchy eyelids and looked up.

But just then, Tan Mo bent his back, tilted his face deeply, and his tall frame pushed forward with no regard.

“!”

Facing Tan Mo’s enlarged handsome face, Sang Ye widened his eyes for a moment, holding his breath. His heartbeat seemed to stop.

In the split second, his mind raced rapidly, torn between saying “no” and directly pushing him away. In the end, he chose to shrink back and tightly shut his eyes.

The next second.

He heard a soft “sizzle.”

At the same time, the clean, cold breath of the man slightly withdrew.

Sang Ye immediately opened his eyes, just in time to see Tan Mo take the box of tissues from behind him and then step back.

“……..”

It was hard to tell whether to feel relieved or disappointed, but one thing was certain—it was awkward.

Sang Ye cleared his throat, adjusted his expression, and looked around for somewhere to place his gaze. His face was bright red: “I knew you were going for the tissue… I was just about to hand it to you.”

Tan Mo almost laughed: “Right, right, you’re the purest, most innocent.”

Sang Ye: “…”

It didn’t sound like a compliment.

Tan Mo tossed the tissue box, caught it easily, and said, “Here’s the deal: to prevent you from not wanting me to pick you up when you’re drunk, or thinking I’m a pervert, I won’t kiss you unless you cry and beg me, and let me record it as evidence.”

“…I wouldn’t do something weird like that,” Sang Ye lowered his head, holding back for a long time before saying this, then added softly, “Besides, it’s not necessary… people should trust each other.”

“Exactly.”

Tan Mo smiled.

Otherwise, Sang Ye would be the type to drunkenly cling to his neck and demand kisses, refuse to go back to the base unless he got his way, then turn around the next day when sober and accuse him of taking advantage of the situation.

Tan Mo turned toward the door, then glanced back. “By the way, your visa situation is sorted. See you at the world championship.”

With that, he left.

Sang Ye stood there in a daze for a while before lowering his head, unable to stop the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

---

This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi!  (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

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Chapter 70 – Visa.

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Sang Ye curled up on the leather seat in the back of the car, his hand still covering his mouth, the small area of skin there tingling and feeling warm.

Outside the window, the streetlights passed by one by one, casting colorful reflections in the boy’s eyes as he gazed outside, like the fading glow of starlight.

Sang Ye felt embarrassed, but at the same time, he was seriously thinking about what to eat tonight.

Yet, he felt that what he ate didn’t really matter. He wasn’t hungry, he didn’t want anything, and he just wanted to talk to Tan Mo in a quiet environment. Or even better, to not say anything at all, just to feel Tan Mo’s presence, which would make him very happy.

But then there was Xiao Pai…

Sang Ye furrowed his brows slightly.

But he quickly became optimistic again.

It was just one more person, it wouldn’t make a difference.

They could go to one of those restaurants where the main characters on TV shows go on dates.

After making up his mind, Sang Ye felt a warm flush spread across his face.

—Of course, it wasn’t because he was thinking about a date that he chose that kind of place. Why would he want to date Tan Mo? It was because those places were quieter.

Finally, they passed the congested area and could head into the city. Tan Mo glanced in the rearview mirror and asked, “Is there anything you want to eat?”

Sang Ye, holding his phone, sat up with a flushed face, leaning forward and saying, “There’s a place here…”

Just then, Xiao Pai’s phone rang.

He picked it up, shouting, “Hello? What happened to Old Hu? …You’re here? …Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’re picking up Bai Mao, we’re about to go eat… almost there, okay, I’ll check…”

He looked at Tan Mo and said, “Brother, Old Hu’s back at the base. He’s asking if we can pick him up to eat with us.”

Tan Mo glanced at the sign, noting the bright left-turn indicator.

“Tell him to wait at the gate. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Okay!”

Tan Mo turned his attention to the rearview mirror and asked Sang Ye, “What restaurant were you saying?”

Sang Ye brushed the hair from his eyelid, then reclined back into the seat, holding up his phone to cover his face.

“I… I want to eat something else now. Let’s pick up Hu Fu first.”

Five minutes later.

Hu Fu got into the car.

The car started moving again.

Sang Ye nestled back in his seat, biting the collar of his T-shirt, swiping the screen with his fingertips.

He scrolled through the list but couldn’t find anything he liked more. He brought up the French restaurant he had saved earlier, and the more he looked at the white tablecloths, roses, and grand chandeliers in the pictures, the more romantic it seemed.

It was just four people, a bit crowded, but not a big deal.

Sang Ye released the collar of his shirt, about to tell Tan Mo.

At that moment, Hu Fu answered his phone: “Hello? Ji Feng, what’s up?”

Sang Ye turned his head with a “click!” and looked over: “…”

“Oh, yeah, we just left… Okay, I’ll ask,” Hu Fu said, grabbing the back of the front seat. “Tan Shen, Ji Feng and Jing Cao just came back. They’re asking if they can join us.”

Tan Mo replied, “There’s no room in the car.”

Sang Ye let out a breath of relief.

From the phone’s speaker, Jifeng’s loud voice rang out: “No need to pick us up! We’ll take a taxi ourselves!”

Sang Ye: “…”

The news about dinner seemed to have taken on a life of its own, spreading like wildfire.

When Sang Ye sat in the familiar old Chongqing hotpot restaurant, looking at the table full of over ten people, he was in a daze for quite a while.

What’s going on with this club?

It’s only the 6^th, and everyone’s already back.

And they’re doing team-building as soon as they arrive.

A drink was placed in front of him, and Sang Ye looked up.

Tan Mo, sitting across the round table, nodded his chin toward him in the noisy crowd, signaling for him to stop staring and just take the drink.

The drink was ordered just for Sang Ye by Tan Mo. Everyone else was drinking alcohol, even his peer, E Lan, was drinking.

Sang Ye picked up the cup, looking sullen.

It wasn’t that he minded what he was drinking, but the distance between them felt too great.

…

After the hotpot meal, Sang Ye returned to the base. He pushed his suitcase to the practice room first, intending to hand out the souvenirs now that everyone was there.

He had mainly brought pea cakes, sesame cakes, dried apricots, and some assorted snack gift boxes, with everyone getting a share.

He started by distributing to the second team.

Everyone was very surprised to receive the specialties brought by the boss.

Ji Feng immediately opened a packet of dried apricots and, after finishing, his eyes lit up. “Delicious!”

Others also took some from Ji Feng.

Unlike many regions that only sell packaged local specialties, the products Sang Ye brought were full of flavor.

Take the dried apricots, for instance—the fruit is plump, sweet without being overly rich, and you can tell right away that it’s not mass-produced by a big factory. The craftsmanship is very refined.

Ji Feng opened another pack of sesame buns: “Looks like we’ve got breakfast sorted for the next week.”

After Sang Ye finished distributing the gifts, he closed the suitcase and was about to head downstairs.

“Wait, wait, wait, I’ll do it!” Ji Feng hurriedly offered to help, carrying it all the way to the first team’s practice room.

By the time Tan Mo parked the car and returned, he was already sitting in his spot, playing with his phone. Occasionally, he’d glance up and give a quick look at Sang Ye, who was crouching next to his suitcase, organizing his things.

Sang Ye had handed out the gifts to Xiao Pai and Hu Fu, and now the suitcase was empty.

He packed it up and placed it by the wall.

Xiao Pai, Hu Fu, and Ji Feng had gathered together, discussing which item tasted the best.

Sang Ye slumped down into his chair, taking a breather.

Tan Mo returned to his desk and silently opened his laptop.

Tan Mo had been waiting since Sang Ye was still with the second team. He’d waited for a long time, and by the time everyone else had received their local gifts, Sang Ye was the only one without any.

Once Sang Ye caught his breath, he sat up and glanced at Tan Mo’s somewhat indifferent profile. He turned, reached for his backpack resting on the chair, and took out two small containers. Then he stood and walked to the side, clasping his hands behind his back.

Tan Mo was still browsing the forums, reading discussions about the other regional intercontinental competitions, seemingly unaware of Sang Ye’s approach.

Sang Ye’s face turned slightly red. Seeing that Tan Mo wasn’t paying attention to him, he turned to the side and gently nudged the man.

Tan Mo glanced at him, his expression unchanged, and then looked away. “What’s up?”

Sang Ye, aware of the others still being around, whispered, “I brought you a local specialty.”

Tan Mo let go of his mouse, turned around, and looked Sang Ye up and down. “Da Tong beauty?”

“What’s this?!” Sang Ye’s face turned bright red, and he didn’t dare to argue loudly. He shoved the container into Tan Mo’s arms, then quickly sat down at his spot, pretending to be busy tidying up his desk.

Tan Mo steadied the container and looked down.

One box contained dried apricot slices.

The other box was neatly packed with pea cake—despite coming all the way from Shanxi, it hadn’t crumbled into powder, which showed how well it had been protected during the trip.

So, it wasn’t that he didn’t bring a gift for him; it was just that it had been repackaged thoughtfully.

Tan Mo, the occasionally petty man, slid across the chair and bumped into Sang Ye’s shoulder.

Sang Ye bit his lip, his face still red.

The two sat side by side, very close to each other.

Tan Mo, with a hint of playful questioning, asked, “Why is mine different from everyone else’s?”

Sang Ye hesitated for a moment before replying, “My mom made it… I said you don’t like sweet things, so she used very little sugar.” He quickly added, “She used her own method to improve it, and you can even taste a hint of cream.”

Tan Mo shook the box with the dried apricots inside. “Did your mom make this too?”

Sang Ye nodded with a quiet “mm,” resting his face on his hands. The boldness of this special treatment made him feel a little embarrassed.

Everyone else’s gifts were store-bought, but Tan Mo’s was handmade by Fang Yuerong, with no food additives, and it was likely to spoil easily, so the quantity was less than the others’.

Tan Mo opened the box and took a bite of the pea cake.

It melted in his mouth, with the natural sweetness of the peas and a faint creamy taste—just the kind of dessert that would suit Tan Mo’s tastes.

He tilted his head to look at Sang Ye and asked, “Did you talk to your mom about me?”

Sang Ye buried his face slightly in his collar and mumbled, “I did…”

Tan Mo wiped the crumbs off his lips, licked his teeth, and asked with interest, “What did you say?”

The three others were still noisily arguing in the back, separated by an aisle.

“Can I have this box?”

“Don’t you already have one?”

“I could finish this entire box tonight, it’s that good.”

“If you like it, just scan it on Taobao yourself.”

“I did, but I couldn’t find it.”

Sang Ye tugged at his reddened ear and muttered, “I told my mom that you’ve always taken good care of me…”

Tan Mo raised an eyebrow, not surprised.

So, this was a gift of gratitude from Sang Ye’s mom.

He handed the box to Sang Ye and said, “Do you want a piece?”

“No, I’ve had too much at home.” Sang Ye waved his hand, then glanced at Tan Mo, nervously asking, “Does it taste good?”

“It’s delicious.” Tan Mo threw the remaining half into his mouth, closed the container, and pushed it back. “Please thank Auntie for me. I really like it.”

Sang Ye felt relieved and happy at the same time. He took out his phone to message his mom.

S.：[Mom, the captain ate the snacks you made. He said he really likes them and wants to thank you.]

Fang Yuerong replied quickly.

Yue Rong：[Tell him to eat more.]

Yue Rong：[😊]

The yellow soy bean emoji is often seen as sarcastic, so Fang Yuerong had specifically sent that emoji, which at first glance seemed a bit out of place.

However, nowadays, parents’ understanding of emojis is different. They might use “waving goodbye” as a greeting, so Sang Ye didn’t think much of it.

The next day.

With nothing to do after returning early, everyone gathered in the practice room to watch shows and play games.

Tan Mo entered the practice room a bit later, dressed in a black suit.

“Hey! Handsome!” Xiao Pai greeted with a bright smile.

Sang Ye knew that Tan Mo was going to a wedding today. As Tan Mo walked into the room, Sang Ye quickly turned his head back to the computer, but after firing five shots in the simulator, he only hit one.

Sang Ye couldn’t help but glance at Tan Mo again.

The man’s hair was slightly messy, and if someone didn’t know better, they might think he had styled it that way on purpose. He looked like he hadn’t fully woken up. His peach blossom eyes were a little drowsy. With his naturally good bone structure, he looked tall and striking, especially when he walked with his legs spread apart, which made him appear even longer. The atmosphere he gave off in a suit was intense.

Tan Mo sat down in a chair, slouched, and with a faint smile in his eyes, looked at Sang Ye. “Do I look good?”

Sang Ye turned his head back, pressed his lips together, and continued firing, saying nothing. However, the redness in his ears gave away his answer.

Tan Mo opened the drawer and took out the box of pea cakes.

Having just woken up without breakfast, he was planning to snack a bit before going to the wedding for the main meal.

“Do you have anything else today?” Tan Mo asked as he opened the container.

Sang Ye shook his head. “No, just practice.”

“Practice on your day off?” Tan Mo suddenly asked. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Huh?”

Just as the simulator session ended, Sang Ye looked over to the side.

“Come with me to the wedding,” Tan Mo said. “I can bring one more person.”

Sang Ye’s heart skipped a beat. “I… I’m going? But I don’t even know anyone there.”

Tan Mo said it casually, “I’ll introduce you.”

Sang Ye’s face heated up as he lowered his gaze.

A wedding is a gathering of family and friends, and Tan Mo was going to introduce him to people there—this clearly meant something.

Sang Ye tightened his fingers. “It’s fine, I’ll just eat with Xiao Pai and the others at noon.”

Tan Mo nodded, not insisting.

He held the string of a kite, and when one end started to tighten, he would loosen it to let the kite fly further, making sure it didn’t snap.

Xiao Pai noticed the container in Tan Mo’s hand and leaned in. “What’s this? Pea cakes? Why are yours different from ours? Is it good? I’ll try one.”

Xiao Pai rambled on as he reached for one.

But in the next second, his hand was slapped away with a “smack.”

“Brother!” Xiao Pai grumbled, covering his hand. “What’s wrong with eating one? Why are you so stingy!”

Tan Mo didn’t offer any explanation, turning his back on Xiao Pai.

—Do you understand what mother-in-law’s love is?

Of course, Tan Mo wouldn’t shamelessly say that aloud; it was something he quietly enjoyed in his heart.

Tan Mo had only tried one piece last night, so there were still plenty left.

He picked up another piece of the pea cake, but this time, after one bite, he noticed something odd.

Tan Mo paused, lowering his lashes.

A small rolled-up piece of paper was poking out from the cross-section of the pea cake.

“…”

When Tan Mo had eaten Chinese food abroad, some restaurants would give out fortune cookies, with a printed message inside, usually a blessing.

But this was his first time finding a note inside Chinese pastry—it was quite fresh.

Tan Mo carefully pulled the paper out of the cake and unfolded it. It had some grease stains, but the elegant and firm handwriting was still clear.

—[Be good to my son.]

Tan Mo raised an eyebrow, realizing this must be a note from Sang Ye’s mother.

It was a cute way for her to remind him to take care of Sang Ye.

The back of the note had faint writing showing through.

Tan Mo flipped it over.

—[Or I’ll chop you with a knife.]

“…………”

The sweet image of her just a moment ago instantly turned into someone holding a knife.

Tan Mo slowly blinked, struggling to swallow the half piece of pea cake in his mouth, then turned his head to look away.

Sang Ye noticed Tan Mo’s gaze and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Looking at the boy’s innocent face, Tan Mo licked the corner of his lips and said, “Nothing.”

He had a feeling that when Sang Ye talked about him in front of his parents, it wasn’t just about being cared for.

Also, he suddenly realized where Sang Ye’s occasionally fierce personality came from.

…

After the long holiday, the training matches resumed, but as the team heading to the World Championship, WLG not only had to compete in domestic training matches, but in the last month, they also started playing ranked matches on foreign servers to familiarize themselves with the playstyles of other regions.

In one four-player match, they encountered the European team HK, and it was the full starting lineup.

HK had won the World Championship for two consecutive years, and every player was a big, bearded, tough guy. However, all these tough guys had a fondness for Hello Kitty. They couldn’t use the name directly, or they’d receive a lawyer’s letter from Disney, so they abbreviated their team name and designed a logo featuring an abstract cat head.

One of the team members, with the ID [woodhouse] gained many fans worldwide for his amazing shooting skills and an accuracy that couldn’t even be replicated by a cheat code.

In China, everyone affectionately called him “Brother Wu De.”

They discovered this team when Xiao Pai was wandering around the Y City area and was knocked down by Brother Wu De, who shot him from across the street with just two well-placed sniper shots.

Xiao Pai fell outside the wall, and even though they tried to block the smoke, they couldn’t help him.

“Don’t worry about me, anyone who takes this position is dead,” Xiao Pai crawled around on the ground.

Hu Fu was with Xiao Pai, and his position was quickly taken out as well.

Sang Ye, working with Tan Mo, knocked out two HK players. When he heard footsteps, he immediately noticed someone approaching his position at the two-story building.

He lay in wait by the door, and as the footsteps grew clearer, he timed it perfectly, leaned out, and fired a shot.

However, not only did the opponent block the corridor position and dodge the shot, but they also took away 120 of Sang Ye’s health.

No wonder they were once the world’s strongest team.

Sang Ye believed that his gun skills were the second best in PCL—Tan Mo was the best.

In front of the Korean team, he no longer feared Gal. While he couldn’t guarantee he would win every time, he was no longer as vulnerable as he used to be.

But facing Brother Wu De, his actual pressure in combat was even more terrifying than what he had seen in the videos.

Sang Ye threw a smoke grenade, filling the hallway with thick smoke.

Brother Wu De fired into the smoke, probing while also covering the edge of the smoke. The edge was the easiest place for an enemy to rush out from.

As the smoke began to clear, Brother Wu De moved closer to the room where Sang Ye was.

Suddenly, Sang Ye emerged from the room on the opposite side of the hallway and hit him from the side, eliminating him with his health barely hanging on.

Sang Ye had just used the smoke to shift his position.

He had taken a few shots and, worried about being heard, didn’t dare use any healing items.

“Impressive, Bai Mao!” Xiao Pai, who was spectating, commented, “Your form has been improving after the Intercontinental Championship.”

Sang Ye picked up some gear, his tone cold: “It’s nothing special.”

He hadn’t told anyone about his goal to win the World Championship, because everyone wanted to win.

But for Sang Ye, his motivation had changed.

Before, he wanted to win for idolizing someone, to make Talk happy.

Now, he still wanted to make Talk happy, but more than that, he was determined to win the World Championship for himself.

With such a crucial goal in mind, Sang Ye became even more motivated. His form and mentality were consistently sharp.

It was another Saturday. Tan Mo was attending an event and couldn’t join the training match, so Elan took his place. Sang Ye became the temporary team captain again.

Since they had the next day off, after the evening’s training match, everyone agreed to have a debriefing meeting followed by a barbecue outing.

Ever since the internal turbulence had settled, there were more opportunities for the first and second teams to collaborate. They frequently went out together to eat, and this month’s gatherings had already surpassed the total number from the past six months.

After turning off the lights in the meeting room, everyone watched the projection and listened to the coach’s analysis of areas for improvement.

As the meeting was nearing its end, Yu Haotian looked at his phone, his frown deepening.

Before the coach had even dismissed the meeting, he picked up the phone, his tone anxious: “What happened? Why was only this one rejected? Everyone submitted their materials together.”

All eyes turned toward him.

The coach knew something serious must have happened; otherwise, Yu Haotian wouldn’t be so anxious, so he didn’t interrupt him.

Yu Haotian held the phone, listening to the other side. After a while, his anxiety gradually turned into helplessness, and he finally said softly, “Okay, I’ll wait for your update.”

Yu Haotian hung up the phone with his head lowered.

The coach asked, “What happened?”

Yu Haotian sighed deeply and said, “Song’s visa got rejected.”

The room fell silent as everyone’s attention shifted to the young man sitting at the front of the conference table.

The PCG Global Invitational was taking place in Berlin, Germany, and a visa rejection meant he couldn’t go abroad, let alone compete.

Some of the veterans from both the first and second teams were stunned. They had been playing for over two years and had never experienced a visa rejection. They didn’t expect such a low-probability event to affect one of their teammates.

After the summer and intercontinental tournaments, Sang Ye had become a key player in the team. If he couldn’t compete, it would be like WLG losing half of its risk-bearing capacity.

The coach grew anxious and asked Yu Haotian, “There’s still more than half a month. Can it be solved?”

“We’re trying to find a way, but there’s no quick fix.”

Though he said that, Yu Haotian’s mindset wasn’t much better than the coach’s.

Visa processing usually took at least a month. Solving the issue in just two weeks seemed difficult.

The team manager would be held accountable if a player couldn’t attend the competition.

The coach, worried about affecting the team, turned on the lights in the meeting room and said, “That’s it for today. Go back. Training will proceed as usual, and don’t worry about this matter…”

But when he looked up, he saw Sang Ye’s pale face, which had remained silent since the beginning.

…

On the way back, Miao Sen lowered his head and rubbed his neck, suddenly saying, “How about we don’t go tonight? We’ve been playing training matches all afternoon, so we’re tired. Ordering takeout is just the same.”

Xiao Pai and Ji Feng immediately nodded in agreement: “Yeah, yeah, at this hour, we’d probably have to wait for a table.”

Just as everyone was about to decide on this, Sang Ye put his hands in his pockets, walked past the group without lifting his head, and said coldly, “Let’s go.”

The others looked at each other, hesitating, “Oh… oh.”

Then they all followed.

When they arrived, there was no need to wait for a table, and the barbecue stall owner greeted them enthusiastically, showing them to their seats.

However, the atmosphere at the table wasn’t as lively as it had been earlier.

Everyone silently looked at the menu, silently checked items, and silently passed the menu around to see if there was anything else to add.

Xiao Pai looked up cautiously and asked, “Today… we’re just eating, no drinking, right?”

Miao Sen was about to nod.

But Sang Ye suddenly said, “Drink.”

“………”

Sang Ye snorted, “Don’t look at me, I’m fine. If you keep acting like this, I’ll leave.”

“No, no, no!” Ji Feng quickly turned to Xiao Pai, saying, “Check it all off! Get whatever you need! Eat and drink, what’s the big deal?”

As soon as Sang Ye made his declaration, the atmosphere at the table immediately lightened.

Xiao Pai said, “Bai Mao, there’s nothing good to drink here. Should I get you a cup of coconut juice?”

Usually, when eating out, Tan Mo would order drinks for Sang Ye separately, so after a few times, everyone remembered this.

But Sang Ye replied, “Just order beer.”

“……” Xiao Pai was caught off guard. He stopped halfway through checking the box, swallowed, and hesitated. Didn’t he just say he was fine…?

The owner brought a box of beer over to the table and took the menus to prepare the food.

Sang Ye opened a bottle, poured himself a full glass, then downed half of it in one go, commenting on the remaining half, “Not bad.”

He finished the rest of it as well.

Miao Sen looked a bit worried and, feeling uneasy, sent a message to Tan Mo under the table.

Miao Sen: [Barbecue stall. Come quickly.]

While eating, everyone chatted about random topics from all over the place—anything except the visa issue.

Sang Ye, after finishing two skewers of beef with his perfect set of teeth, suddenly asked, “Is getting a visa difficult?”

The table fell silent for a few seconds.

Xiao Pai took a sip of beer and answered honestly, “It’s kind of a gamble. It depends on the quota at different times, how strict the visa officer is, and how they assess immigration risks. Usually, it’s not a problem, but when it is, it can be a real headache.”

Hu Fu added, “Every year, there are pro players who get their visas denied. PUBG actually has it better since it’s a relatively new game. Back in 2012 and 2013, esports wasn’t taken seriously. League of Legends teams had it rough—getting blocked from traveling all the time because of this kind of nonsense.”

Ji Feng chimed in, “Remember the London tournament a couple of years ago? Two Vietnamese PUBG teams got their visas completely denied.”

Sang Ye asked, “So they just couldn’t go in the end?”

Ji Feng replied, “Yeah. When it’s close to Worlds, visa applications pile up. If you get rejected, you usually don’t have enough time to reapply.”

“But there are exceptions too!” Xiao Pai quickly added. “Anyway, there’s still time. Yu Gonggong will definitely do everything he can to fix this.”

Sang Ye bit the rim of his glass, nodding thoughtfully.

After a while, he sat up straight, bracing himself against the table, and raised his glass.

The white-haired boy’s face flushed from the alcohol—not just his cheeks, but even the corners of his eyes took on a rosy hue. A breeze stirred his hair, and in the mix of neon lights and the smoky haze of the barbecue stall, his cool, slightly hoarse voice rang out:

“If I can’t go, I’m counting on you all to carry my goal to the finish line.”

“What the hell, man!” Xiao Pai slapped his thigh and yelped. “It’s not even decided yet! Don’t talk like that!”

“It’s all the same.” Sang Ye’s dark pupils were calm. “Whoever plays, it’s the same. I’m really fine… Hurry up, my arm’s getting tired.”

Everyone, feeling both amused and a little heartbroken, lifted their glasses and clinked them together at the center of the table.

“Cheers—!!!“

…

When Tan Mo arrived at the barbecue stall, he saw Sang Ye smiling brightly.

The boy was clearly drunk. One hand propped up his flushed cheek as he watched Xiao Pai animatedly waving his arms around. After listening for a while, he grinned widely, revealing a sharp chin, and then raised his glass along with the others.

Tan Mo walked over.

Hu Fu’s side of the table spotted him first and called out, “God Tan!”

Sang Ye saw Tan Mo and quickly covered his mouth—he nearly spat out the sip of alcohol he hadn’t swallowed yet.

Jing Cao, who was sitting beside Sang Ye, instinctively scooted over to make room for Tan Mo.

Sang Ye’s face was still red, but he suddenly seemed sobered up. Even his posture became more proper and restrained.

Tan Mo pulled out a plastic chair and sat down.

Sang Ye glanced at him once, then again, before asking, “Should I order something for you?”

Without waiting for a response, he turned around to call for the lady boss.

But Tan Mo caught his hand, pulling it back and placing it under the table, gently holding it.

“I already ate outside.”

Sang Ye let out a soft “oh.”

After that, Tan Mo never let go of his hand.

With Tan Mo there, Sang Ye became quiet.

When everyone raised their glasses for another toast, he instinctively went to pick up his own, only for Tan Mo to take it away.

With nothing to do, Sang Ye simply stared blankly at the table.

The others continued chatting.

Tan Mo lowered his eyes and asked softly, “Your visa got denied?”

Sang Ye licked his lips, bit them briefly, then nodded. “Yeah.”

Tan Mo squeezed his soft palm and said, “It’s fine.”

Sang Ye wasn’t sure if Tan Mo meant the visa rejection wasn’t a big deal or that missing Worlds wasn’t a big deal. His mind was hazy, and he drooped his head.

Miao Sen checked the time and suggested, “It’s getting late. Should we head back?”

Immediately, everyone’s eyes turned to Tan Mo in unison.

Tan Mo let out a cold chuckle, leaned to the side, and pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his pants.

He hadn’t even taken a single bite of food before rushing over just to pay their bill.

Since Tan Mo needed to keep an eye on Sang Ye, Miao Sen took his place and went to settle the check.

Sang Ye tried to stand up but his legs gave out, and he collapsed back into his seat.

Feeling a little embarrassed, he smiled at Tan Mo beside him. “Let me rest for a bit.”

Tan Mo stood in front of Sang Ye, still holding his hand, and raised an eyebrow. “How much did you drink?”

Sang Ye rested his head against Tan Mo’s chest and mumbled, “Just a little… I can’t hold my liquor…”

Xiao Pai coughed and nudged an empty beer bottle under Sang Ye’s chair with his foot.

Tan Mo glanced over. The bottles were neatly arranged in a 4×4 formation.

Sixteen bottles.

Tan Mo roughly ruffled Sang Ye’s hair.

Unbelievable.

By the time everyone had paid and was ready to leave, Sang Ye was still sitting there, face buried against Tan Mo’s chest, unmoving.

Xiao Pai, slurring slightly, called out, “Bai Mao, let’s go…”

Before he could finish—

Sang Ye’s shoulders trembled, and then he suddenly wrapped his arms around Tan Mo’s waist.

Everyone sobered up instantly.

Out of sheer shock.

—They had never seen their tough guy cry before.

But soon, guilt crept in.

Miao Sen exchanged a silent glance with Tan Mo before leading the others away, giving them some space.

With Tan Mo’s arrival, all the strength left Sang Ye’s body.

His voice was hoarse as he mumbled, “I want to go to Worlds… I want to win the championship… I have to win…”

The more he spoke, the more frustrated he became.

Tan Mo sighed helplessly, patting the white-haired head, and repeated the same words:

“It’ll be fine.”

…

Sang Ye’s steps were so unsteady that Tan Mo had to support him as they walked.

The distance was too short to justify calling a cab, so they had no choice but to walk back to the base.

Tan Mo muttered to himself, “If your mom saw you like this, she’d probably chop me up with a knife…”

Sang Ye spotted a bench ahead and came to a halt. “Talk, I’m tired. I want to sit for a bit.”

They had taken a shortcut through an open-air public park, and at this late hour, the place was completely empty.

Tan Mo glanced ahead and saw that they were only a few steps away from the main road in front of the base. He said, “I’ll carry you. We’re almost there.”

“No, no, no, no, no.” Sang Ye furrowed his brows and shook his head stubbornly, pointing insistently at the bench. “I want to sit right here for a while.”

Tan Mo had no choice but to let him go.

Sang Ye gripped the back of the bench, inching his way toward it before finally plopping down with a relieved sigh. “Finally.”

Tan Mo rolled up his sleeves again. “What?”

“The base is full of people. No matter where we go, there’s always someone around…” Sang Ye mumbled as he leaned back, exhaling deeply. “Finally, it’s just the two of us.”

Tan Mo’s fingers paused mid-roll. He lifted his gaze to look at Sang Ye.

Sang Ye was staring up at the night sky, lost in thought. Suddenly, a shadow fell over him—Tan Mo’s face appeared above his.

Tan Mo knelt on one knee on the bench, hands braced on either side of Sang Ye against the backrest, leaning down toward him. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

Sang Ye’s gaze was unfocused as he looked at Tan Mo, dazed for a moment. Then, he smiled, eyes curving. He nodded. “I do.”

As he spoke, he reached out, hooked his arms around Tan Mo’s neck, and pulled him down.

“I was thinking that day when we came back… if only it had been just the two of us in the car.”

---

This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi!  (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

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Chapter 69 – Pick Up at The Airport.

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The courtyard was so silent and suffocating that even the lifeless goose on the ground seemed like it wanted to crane its neck and let out a cry.

Sang Ye belatedly covered his mouth, his gaze darting around—first to his dad, then to his mom. In the end, he decided that the one holding the kitchen knife deserved the most attention.

“Mom…”

His voice trembled slightly.

The Sang family had raised him with care, in a democratic and open environment, so there was never any real barrier between him and his parents. But now, nervous and overwhelmed, everything just spilled out uncontrollably.

“Little pup?” Fang Yuerong called softly. She placed the knife down, picked up a cloth beside her, and wiped her hands at an unhurried pace. “What did you just say?”

Sang Ye scratched his head, then abruptly crouched down again, rubbing the tip of his nose against his knee. With his face flushed red, he mumbled, “I like him. I like my captain… I’ve liked him for a long time…”

Sang Huaxin, distracted, accidentally burned his finger with his cigarette, jolting in surprise. He glanced at his phone and let out an “Oh!”—a sound that suggested understanding, though his expression remained dazed.

“I… I thought the kids were just messing around. The internet is full of jokes these days. I didn’t expect…”

What started as a casual question had somehow unearthed a major revelation.

“……” Sang Ye slowly turned to look at his dad.

He felt like a werewolf who had just outed himself in a game of Mafia—betrayed by his own slip-up.

“Little pup… ahem, Sang Ye.” Fang Yuerong’s tone instantly shifted, every word pronounced with clarity.

Twenty years ago, she had been a local TV anchor. Even now, the moment she opened her mouth, her presence filled the space.

Sang Ye tensed up. Hugging his knees, he anxiously scooted closer to Sang Huaxin, dragging his toes against the ground. “What? I already confessed everything…”

Fang Yuerong turned around, leaning her hands against the chopping board.

“This is no trivial matter. We need to discuss it thoroughly. You’re still young, and since we let you go out so early, you don’t have anyone around to guide you. You say you like him, but are you certain about your feelings?”

“I’m sure! I’m sure!” Sang Ye stretched his neck and nodded vigorously, his eyes shining with conviction. “I’m not an idi*t!”

Fang Yuerong studied the boy’s utterly sincere expression for two seconds, then slowly averted her gaze and gave a small nod.

Behind her back, her right hand began to move.

Sang Ye followed her gaze.

In Fang Yuerong’s hand dangled half of a vertically sliced goose. Its thin neck and plump body swayed gently.

“……”

“You said you were going to Shanghai to pursue a professional career and chase your dreams.” Fang Yuerong’s expression grew increasingly menacing as she raised the goose high above her head. “And after half a year, you come back with a man instead?! SANG—YE—!!!”

Sang Ye shot three feet into the air on the spot, scrambling up and down the porch pillars like a startled cat. “Mom! Mom!”

“Stand still! You’ve really learned a lot, haven’t you?!” Fang Yuerong swung the half goose through the air with impressive force.

“Aiya! Aiya!” Sang Huaxin clutched his head, dizzy from watching the two of them chase each other in circles.

“Dad!” With nowhere else to hide, Sang Ye dove behind Sang Huaxin for cover.

“Move aside! Or I’ll hit you too!” Fang Yuerong, ferociously unstoppable, charged forward.

“Stop all this racket!”

Sang Huaxin grabbed hold of both his wife and son, dragging them into the house before the whole neighborhood could wake up and enjoy the spectacle the next morning.

—

Inside the living room, the three family members each occupied a different corner of the space, none of them speaking.

Sang Ye crouched beside the TV stand, hugging his head in silence.

Fang Yuerong sat in the center of the sofa, arms crossed. Suddenly, she cleared her throat.

Sang Ye flinched slightly at the sound and shuffled further into the corner.

“What does your captain mean by all this?” Fang Yuerong lifted her chin and asked.

Sang Ye drooped his head, his face turning red. He pressed his fingers against the little dog decoration on his slippers and muttered, “He also said he likes me…”

Fang Yuerong narrowed her eyes. “So you two…”

“But we’re not necessarily together!” Sang Ye hurriedly lifted his head to clarify.

Fang Yuerong looked confused. “Didn’t you just say you like him and he likes you?”

Sang Ye hesitated, unsure how to explain. Feeling awkward, he turned back toward the wall and mumbled, “This is my own business, Mom. Just leave it alone.”

“I really can’t do much about it… My son is grown now, I can’t keep him home.” Fang Yuerong sighed.

Then, suddenly, a trace of sorrow crept into her voice. “I had it all planned out—you’d make a living playing games, achieve something big, and in a couple of years, bring home a nice Southern daughter-in-law. And now… Now what am I supposed to do with all the heirloom gold and jewelry? Who do I pass them down to?”

Sang Ye quietly pressed his fingers into the little rubber dog on his slippers. After a brief pause, he murmured in a soft voice, “I can ask my captain if he wants them…”

It was a joke.

Sang Ye had no confidence in whether his relationship with Tan Mo would develop to that stage.

Fang Yuerong let out a half-amused, half-exasperated laugh and brushed back a strand of hair. Then, suddenly, a thought occurred to her. “Hey? Little puppy, your captain isn’t some unreliable person, right?”

After all, a nearly twenty-five-year-old man making a move on her just-turned-eighteen-year-old son—just the thought of it gave a bad impression.

“No, no, absolutely not!” Sang Ye couldn’t stand hearing such things and waved his hands so fast they left afterimages. “I’ve been chasing him for five years! He’s an amazing person! He’s been looking after me ever since I joined the club and throughout all my competitions!”

“Five years?” Fang Yuerong’s gaze toward Sang Ye suddenly turned unreadable. “At the start of the year, you said you were going to Shanghai to pursue your dreams. So… was he the dream?”

Sang Ye’s face instantly turned bright red. He twisted away and furiously pressed down on the little rubber dog on his slipper.

The more he said, the more mistakes he made—so it was best to just shut up.

Sang Huaxin, still looking at his phone, plopped down onto the couch beside Fang Yuerong. “The kid seems decent. Good-looking too. Doesn’t seem like someone with bad character.”

He handed his phone to Fang Yuerong, showing a saved screenshot from a promotional video—an image of Tan Mo.

Fang Yuerong examined the young man’s features.

She hadn’t paid much attention before, but now that this person was practically on the verge of becoming her son-in-law, she had to take a closer look.

Even with her notoriously high standards, after a thorough assessment, she couldn’t help but nod.

Acceptable.

This young man wasn’t like the stereotypical esports players she had imagined—either chubby or scrawny. He was well-proportioned, strikingly handsome, and carried himself with refined elegance. Not bad at all—not unworthy of her fair-skinned, delicate-looking son.

Then, Sang Huaxin swiped to the next image—a screenshot from that night’s livestream, showing Tan Mo sending virtual gifts, with the chat teasing that it was a dowry payment.

“Just this twenty grand…” Sang Huaxin pulled back his phone and studied it for a moment before shaking his head with a sigh. “I’m not too impressed. Everyone says Shanghai men are stingy…”

“Dad!”

Sang Ye turned around and called out, exasperated.

…

During the few days Sang Ye was home, Fang Yuerong treated him like royalty, making sure he had a steady rotation of chicken, duck, fish, and lamb.

The next time he’d be back would be for the Lunar New Year, and she was worried that he wouldn’t eat well once he left again.

Apart from sleeping, resting, and playing games, Sang Ye also made sure to keep up with the intercontinental tournaments of other regions. While they had their break during National Day, the Asia-Pacific, North American, and European regions had just started their matches. Bit by bit, the roster for this year’s World Championship was coming together.

Sang Ye was already familiar with the situation in East Asia. Catch22 had emerged as a dark horse, and BTF, after failing to secure the championship at the intercontinental level, would likely be putting all their effort into the World Championship.

Meanwhile, the veteran teams from North America and Europe remained as consistent as ever, securing their spots in the finals.

But for Sang Ye, it wasn’t his own region’s teams that concerned him the most—it was the top-tier teams from other regions. As a rookie, he had never faced them in an actual match before. Watching videos just wasn’t the same as playing against them firsthand.

Still, even though this was his first time competing in the World Invitational, Sang Ye wasn’t nervous. In fact, he had already set a firm and unwavering goal.

This time, no matter what, he was going to win the championship with his team.

—And not just because they had lost the intercontinental tournament.

Sang Ye had thought that staying home for so long would get boring, but it didn’t—because Tan Mo made time to play games with him every day.

Most of the time, they played just for fun, but occasionally, they would queue up for a few ranked matches.

That night, they had just finished a game, and it was exactly 10:30 PM. Sang Ye hit the ready button, but Tan Mo urged him to go to bed.

For the past few days, Tan Mo had been making sure Sang Ye didn’t stay up too late during his break, usually wrapping things up around 11 PM. But today, he was calling it quits a full half-hour earlier.

“What for?”

Sang Ye wasn’t satisfied. He only got this short window of time to spend with Tan Mo each day, and it was never enough.

“I’m not tired. I can play one more game.”

But Tan Mo had no intention of continuing. “One more game and it’ll be past 11. Then you’ll probably scroll on your phone for a bit. Are you planning to sleep at midnight?”

“I won’t be on my phone!” Sang Ye huffed, playing the brat. “Just one more game.”

“No,” Tan Mo said flatly.

Sang Ye’s voice took on a pleading note. “Just one more, please…”

Tan Mo’s hand, resting on the mouse, paused. He glanced at his secondary monitor.

The boy’s face was scrunched up slightly, unintentionally exuding a childish charm.

Tan Mo’s gaze swept over those soft lips—lips that could produce such a sweet voice—before shifting back to his own screen.

“Baby, you forgot to turn off your stream.”

“…………”

Sang Ye’s face turned bright red in an instant. His expression snapped back to neutral in under a second as he swiftly pulled up the streaming platform’s backend.

Sang Ye’s face flushed a deep red, but in an instant, he schooled his expression and pulled up the Maoya streaming platform’s backend.

[“Hahahahahaha! Song, do you have goldfish memory? This isn’t the first time, right?”]

[“Fu Gui’s spoiled act is really something else. Another day, another kill shot for God Tan.”]

[“AWSL! God Tan calling Song ‘baby’ is absolutely amazing! This is peak boyfriend energy!”]

[“I love this little couple so much! Please just get married already—”]

Sang Ye immediately cut the stream.

Just then, a faint voice came from Tan Mo’s side.

—“Is it over…?”

Tan Mo had probably taken off his headset because his voice sounded far away. “Almost…”

The voice was muffled and unclear, but Sang Ye could still tell—it was a woman’s.

And Tan Mo was currently in his own room.

Sang Ye canceled the ready button.

There was a rustling sound as Tan Mo put his headset back on.

Before he could say anything, Sang Ye spoke first. “You’re busy, right? I’m logging off. See you.”

Tan Mo raised an eyebrow slightly, but before he could react, the game’s queue showed that another player had left the team.

After exiting the game, Sang Ye remained seated at his desk, resting his cheek against the back of his hand, eyes downcast as he stared at the desktop. His lips were pressed tightly together.

No wonder Tan Mo had rushed him to bed—he had company.

Sang Ye recalled how many people had tried to set Tan Mo up on blind dates before. After all, Tan Mo was already at a suitable age for marriage, and the holiday season was prime matchmaking time.

Maybe someone had been invited over to his place tonight.

Then he thought about how he had just been pestering Tan Mo to play another round.

How ridiculous.

Sang Ye rubbed the corner of his eye with the back of his hand and muttered, “I just won’t sleep! I won’t sleep!”

As if he were deliberately going against Tan Mo.

Just then—

His phone lit up with an incoming video call.

Seeing Tan Mo’s name, Sang Ye was a little surprised, but he was still sulking. He hesitated for a couple of seconds before wiping his eyes and swiping to answer.

The screen lit up. Tan Mo was still sitting at his desk, wearing a casual sweatshirt, blending effortlessly with the clean and minimalist decor of his room. He looked relaxed, almost like a university student in his dorm.

Judging by his position on the screen, he was probably calling from his laptop.

Tan Mo asked, “Can you hear me?”

Sang Ye’s face was still stiff with displeasure. He gave a curt hum. “What else do you want?”

Tan Mo leaned back in his chair and stretched. “My dad’s watching a movie downstairs. That auntie who passed by my door just now asked if I wanted to go watch… You’ve seen her before—the one who picked me up from the base last time.”

Sang Ye’s gaze started to wander. “You… You don’t have to explain. It’s not like I’d misunderstand…”

The more he spoke, the more he felt like he was digging a hole for himself. Unable to take it anymore, he rolled to the side, burying himself in bed.

He rubbed his face against the blanket, then peeked out with one eye, staring at his phone. “Why’d you even call…?” he grumbled.

It made him feel like he was acting petty and throwing a tantrum.

Had he been that obvious?

“Am I not allowed to call?” Tan Mo countered. “I’m not afraid—go ahead and check up on me if you want.”

Sang Ye’s face instantly flushed red. He shot up, kneeling on the bed. “W-Who wants to check up on you?!”

“Whoever’s overthinking it is the one checking up,” Tan Mo said, shifting his posture and leaning closer to his desk, propping his head on one hand. His expression was amused, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he gazed into the camera.

Sang Ye felt utterly exposed, like Tan Mo could see right through him. Embarrassed, he lowered his head. “Why didn’t you go downstairs to watch the movie?”

Tan Mo replied, “If you don’t want me to go, then I won’t.”

Sang Ye’s heart skipped a beat. “I never said that.”

“You’re at it again, little liar.” Tan Mo didn’t believe him at all. He glanced at his watch and said, “I’ll keep you company until eleven—fifteen more minutes.”

Sang Ye couldn’t stand, couldn’t sit, couldn’t roll around—no matter what, he couldn’t suppress the joy bubbling in his heart.

He grabbed a pillow, stuffed it into his arms, and flopped onto his stomach.

Tan Mo chuckled. “Do you have ADHD or something?”

Couldn’t even stay still for a moment.

Sang Ye’s messy tuft of hair stuck up in all directions. He lifted his chin proudly, like a little white lion. “I do not.”

The more Tan Mo looked at him, the more he felt a pang of longing. Resting his arms on the desk, he leaned closer to the screen. “When are you coming back?”

Sang Ye tapped his screen to check the date in the top right corner. “It’s already the fourth… The seventh is sold out, so I booked a flight for the sixth at noon. I should arrive by the evening.”

His gaze flickered as he asked, “What about you?”

Tan Mo glanced at the desk calendar with marked notes and answered honestly, “I have a classmate’s wedding on the seventh, so I’ll probably return on the morning of the eighth.”

Sang Ye gave a couple of “oh” before adding, “I’ll bring you some local specialties and leave them on your desk.”

“Oh? A souvenir from Datong?” Tan Mo raised an eyebrow. “If you’re referring to yourself, you can just deliver it straight to my room.”

“!!!”

Sang Ye yanked the blanket over his head.

Tan Mo remarked, “You definitely have ADHD.”

A muffled voice came from under the covers. “I do not!”

“Take off the blanket.”

“No!”

“What are you even showing me? The lovebirds printed on your duvet?”

“…You can look at whatever you want.”

Outside the door, Fang Yuerong stood holding a plate of fruit. She raised her hand to knock but hesitated, then sighed and walked away.

Ah… A grown son is like spilled water.

His body may be here, but his heart is elsewhere.

He finally came home for a visit, yet he spent all his time chatting with his boyfriend—couldn’t even sit downstairs with his parents for a while.

…

In the blink of an eye, the holiday was coming to an end. Starting from the fifth, coastal areas gradually saw the return of workers.

On the afternoon of the sixth, Tan Mo arrived back at the base with Tan Chunshan. As soon as he put his luggage away and stepped out of his room, he saw Xiao Pai wheeling his suitcase inside.

“Huh? Brother?” Xiao Pai was surprised. “Why are you back so early too?”

Tan Mo countered, “And you?”

Xiao Pai sighed. “My mom got sick of me being at home. If I stayed any longer, I might’ve started a full-blown family war.”

He wasn’t exaggerating.

Modern young adults are treated like precious guests when they first return home, but once they stay past three days, their parents start finding fault with everything they do.

Seeing Tan Mo close his door and holding his keys, Xiao Pai asked, “Huh? Got plans? You just got back, and you’re already heading out?”

Tan Mo nodded. “Going to pick someone up.”

Xiao Pai asked, “Brother, are you coming back for dinner tonight? Wanna eat together?”

Without turning around, Tan Mo waved a hand. “Don’t wait up.”

Xiao Pai shrugged and rolled his suitcase into his room.

Too lazy to unpack, he sat on his bed and was about to lie down for a quick rest—

When Tan Mo leaned against his doorway.

“Huh?” Xiao Pai was startled and immediately sat back up.

Tan Mo asked, “Got plans?”

Xiao Pai looked confused. “Nope.”

“Come on.” Tan Mo jingled his keys and straightened up. “Come with me to pick someone up. I’ll treat you to dinner tonight.”

Xiao Pai instantly jumped up. “Brother! Give me a sec!”

Meanwhile, at the baggage claim area, Sang Ye grabbed his suitcase and started heading outside when he received a message from the team manager, asking if he had arrived. The club had sent a car to pick him up.

Sang Ye thought to himself, ‘So this is what it’s like to be on a top-tier team, huh?’

He reached the airport exit and hadn’t even begun looking around when a loud voice called out—

“Bai Mao!”

“……”

So embarrassing.

Sang Ye followed the voice and saw Xiao Pai grinning like a sunflower, waving enthusiastically while jogging over.

As Xiao Pai got closer, Sang Ye asked, “You can drive now?”

Xiao Pai grabbed his suitcase and replied, “What? No way, my brother drove here.”

Sang Ye stood still, blinking.

A wave of joy surged uncontrollably in his heart.

Tan Mo was still sitting in the car, keeping an eye out for traffic police to avoid getting a parking ticket.

He plugged his phone into the car charger, then looked up—just in time to see a boy stepping out from the automatic doors in the distance.

His milky-white hair made him stand out in the crowd, and even from afar, his striking features were clear. He wore a loose, casual T-shirt, with his jacket draped over his arm, glancing around as soon as he stepped outside.

‘He was only home for a few days? Why does he look even better now?’

Tan Mo flashed the high beams twice.

Sang Ye’s eyes were drawn to the lights.

Through the windshield, Tan Mo saw a glimmer flash in the boy’s dark pupils before he lightly stepped forward, effortlessly leaving Xiao Pai behind.

Watching Sang Ye approach, Tan Mo’s thoughts drifted to the night before National Day.

He wasn’t sure what exactly had made Sang Ye bolt faster than a rabbit, but he could tell that the moment he invited him to dinner, an air of nervous tension surrounded him.

Sang Ye had been a little better when Xiao Pai was around, but the moment he left, the unease returned.

Especially when Tan Mo got close—Sang Ye’s anxiety practically peaked.

Originally, Tan Mo had planned to pick him up alone today, but since he ran into Xiao Pai, he decided to bring him along.

It didn’t matter before, but now, Sang Ye still wasn’t used to being alone with him.

Sang Ye walked up, pulled open the passenger door, and before getting in, bent down to ask, “Why are you back today? Weren’t you coming on the eighth?”

Tan Mo pressed the button to open the trunk and replied calmly, “The wedding was near the base anyway, so I figured I’d just come back first.”

Sang Ye responded with an “Oh” and naturally got into the car.

—— “Bai Mao, that’s my seat! You go sit in the back.”

With a thud, Xiao Pai slammed the trunk shut and marched toward the front passenger seat.

Sang Ye had one foot in the car, frowned, and stiffened his neck. “Why should I?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Xiao Pai, full of confidence, pointed at the storage compartment on the passenger side. “I was sitting in the front when we came.”

Sang Ye glanced over and saw an unfinished milk tea and a McDonald’s bag stuffed beside the door.

“……”

He swung his backpack onto his shoulder and reluctantly moved to the back seat. Before closing the door, he shot a glare at Xiao Pai from behind.

After getting in, Xiao Pai continued munching on his crispy chicken fillet and even turned to ask, “Bai Mao, want some?”

“No.”

Sitting alone in the spacious back seat, Sang Ye couldn’t stop sneaking glances at the driver. He shifted slightly to the left.

What he didn’t notice was that the driver was watching him through the overhead rearview mirror.

Xiao Pai crinkled the McDonald’s bag noisily, constantly finding something to say, keeping the conversation alive.

But Sang Ye, feeling a bit irritable, turned to stare out the window.

Today, Xiao Pai was a little…

In the way.

He had been holding back for a week, and there were so many things he wanted to say to Talk—though they were just meaningless, silly things, the kind of nonsense that only felt okay to say when Talk was around.

Since their reunion, they had only managed to exchange a single full sentence.

Meanwhile, Xiao Pai kept smacking his lips, chattering away as he chewed his chicken fillet.

Tan Mo, driving with one elbow resting on the car window, pressed his hand against his lips and finally lost patience. “If you dare drop crumbs in my car, you’re washing it.”

Xiao Pai’s eating posture instantly became much more refined, practically covering half his face with the paper bag. He mumbled, “I won’t, brother… nothing’s falling…”

Tan Mo’s car was a high-end Mercedes. A single trip to the car wash would cost Xiao Pai half a year’s worth of McDonald’s.

Finally, the car fell silent.

Sang Ye heard the low battery notification from his phone.

Apparently, Tan Mo heard it too. He said, “There’s a charger up front. You can unplug mine if you need it. There’s also a socket in the back.”

“Okay.” Sang Ye leaned forward between the two front seats, reaching for the charger. It was still connected to Tan Mo’s phone. “I’m unplugging it?”

“Yeah.”

Just then—

The car in front failed to catch the green light, its taillights flashing red as it suddenly slowed down. Tan Mo had no choice but to slam on the brakes.

Under the force of inertia, Sang Ye lurched forward and quickly grabbed onto the back of the driver’s seat to steady himself.

“Sh*t!” Xiao Pai nearly dropped his paper bag but managed to catch it just in time.

Tan Mo’s first instinct was to check on Sang Ye. “Are you okay—”

But as he turned his head, he almost brushed against the boy’s soft, rose-tinted lips.

In that instant, the sounds of traffic around them seemed to fade into the distance.

They were mere centimeters apart, their breaths mingling—growing uneven, tinged with a damp heat.

Sang Ye was still clutching the seatback. His lashes lowered briefly as he caught sight of Tan Mo’s pale lips before quickly looking up again. Unconsciously, he bit his own lip, a flicker of heat igniting in his stomach once more.

Tan Mo saw it all—those deep, dark eyes, gleaming with warmth, holding a mix of anticipation and something almost like temptation.

After a week apart, the thoughts he had been suppressing were surfacing—more intense than he had expected.

Xiao Pai suddenly blurted out, “D*mn, this road is packed! What’s the point of those license plate restrictions if traffic is still this bad?”

Outside the car, the congestion was slowly easing, the vehicles on both sides beginning to inch forward.

Tan Mo tilted his head just slightly, his lips ghosting past the soft skin at the corner of Sang Ye’s mouth as he asked, “Have you decided what you want for dinner?”

Sang Ye instantly released the seatback and collapsed onto the rear seat, hands covering half his face. His long legs curled up, feet lifting off the floor.

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This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi!  (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

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Chapter 68 – Two Hundred Thousand Betrothal Gifts.

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Sang Ye didn’t even wait for the elevator. He bolted up the stairs and into his room, throwing himself onto the bed and curling up in his blanket.

In the darkness of his little cocoon, his wide, glittering eyes darted around anxiously.

What should he do?

Just being a little closer to Talk already made his mind go haywire. If he actually went home with him, wouldn’t he be a nervous wreck from morning till night?

Could he avoid sleeping in the same room? Would Talk agree if he asked to sleep on the couch? Would Talk… pin him down on the bed? Kiss him…?

The more Sang Ye thought about it, the tighter he curled up, rubbing his face against the blanket.

He suddenly remembered the time right after the summer tournament ended. Talk had accompanied him back to his room and noticed the new set of women’s clothes. They had bickered, and somehow, they ended up tumbling onto this very bed.

Talk had landed on top of him. He had been so startled he didn’t dare to move, and Talk had gone silent for a long moment too.

It was as if a switch had flipped in his brain—details he hadn’t paid attention to before suddenly surfaced. His hand had been on Talk’s waist at the time, and he could clearly feel the tense, firm muscles beneath his palm.

So… had Talk already liked him back then? Even before his birthday?

No… That’s not it.

—“Why can’t you wear it?”

—“I already chose the most conservative length.”

Maybe it started even earlier. Maybe when Talk helped him pick out that outfit at the hotel…

A wave of heat rushed to Sang Ye’s face, but strangely, the chaotic emotions in his chest settled a little.

Still, the biggest issue was—would their parents notice something was off?

And more importantly…

What should he wear tomorrow?

Sang Ye suddenly jumped up and bounced over to his wardrobe. Pulling the doors open, he dove headfirst into the sea of clothes, rummaging through them frantically.

Even though Tan Mo had assured him that his family wouldn’t suspect anything and that this wasn’t a formal “meet the parents” situation, Sang Ye still didn’t want to leave a bad first impression on them.

He pulled out a British-style blazer and held it up against himself in front of the mirror.

No, too formal. Even if this wasn’t a meet-the-parents scenario, he’d definitely look like he was going to one.

He grabbed a vintage Hong Kong-style hoodie.

No, too casual—it made him seem unserious.

Then, he found a black dress shirt with rhinestones embedded in the collar.

“…”

Sang Ye stared at it for two seconds before putting it back.

Too unlucky of a color.

He continued searching, but nothing seemed right. Every outfit had some kind of issue.

Half an hour passed like this. Frustrated, Sang Ye ran his fingers through his hair, then slumped to the ground, clutching a pile of clothes.

Sometimes, a breakdown happens in just an instant.

Two seconds later—

Sang Ye sprang to his feet, yanked his suitcase out from the corner, and started throwing clothes into it haphazardly.

He couldn’t take it anymore!!!

—

The next day marked the start of a short holiday. The weather was clear and pleasant.

Tan Mo woke up earlier than usual. The first thing he did after getting out of bed was reach for his phone and send Sang Ye a message.

T.: [Are you awake?]

He waited for a while. No reply.

That meant Sang Ye was still sleeping.

Tan Mo changed his clothes and freshened up in the bathroom before picking up his phone to check for messages.

Still nothing.

Seeing that it was about time, he decided to head upstairs to wake Sang Ye.

Before leaving, he grabbed the bottle of cologne from his dresser and sprayed twice into the air in front of him.

—This was the secret to a man always maintaining a subtle, elusive deep-sea scent.

He then leaned slightly toward the mirror on the wall, smoothing his hair into place.

Tan Mo pulled open his door.

Plop.

Before he could even step outside, a soft sound reached his ears—something had slipped through the door crack and fallen onto the floor.

Tan Mo lowered his lashes, stood silently for two seconds, then bent down to pick up the card.

[Thank you for the invitation. You’re a good person. I got a ticket and went home. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Don’t worry about me. Happy National Day.]

His gaze flicked back and forth over the words “You’re a good person” and “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” reading them six times in total. His jawline tensed slightly as he clenched the card in his palm, crumpling it.

“Little liar…”

At that moment, the “little liar” in question was sound asleep at 12,000 meters in the air, wearing an eye mask.

The past two days of emotional turmoil had drained him completely—he was exhausted.

Last night, Sang Ye had paid five times the normal price to get a last-minute ticket home from a scalper. Before dawn, he had already wheeled his suitcase out and disappeared.

Spending a few days at Tan Mo’s house?

He wasn’t ready for that.

Physically or mentally.

—

On the first morning of the holiday, Fang Yuerong spent her time at home. She led a sheep from the back pen, slaughtered it, and cleaned out its organs. Without washing her hands, she then chopped up eight rabbit heads.

As the daughter of a butcher, she was skilled at this kind of work—quick, efficient, and meticulous.

She had planned to butcher two more geese, but a call from a friend invited her to a beauty salon. After some back-and-forth, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse and eventually agreed to go.

Before leaving, Fang Yuerong took off her apron and draped herself in a custom Chanel tweed coat. She instructed the cook to prepare dinner, asking her to stew a pot of lamb offal for the afternoon and store the rest.

The cook squinted with a smile. “Got it. Started preparing first thing this morning—waiting for the kid to come home on the fourth.”

By late afternoon, when Fang Yuerong returned, the rich, spicy aroma of lamb stew filled the air before she even stepped inside.

Entering the courtyard, she glanced up—and through the half-open kitchen door, she caught sight of a figure dressed in white.

Fang Yuerong removed her gloves as she craned her neck forward, slowly making her way over. As her view expanded past the doorframe, the scene inside became clearer.

She saw a figure standing at the stove with their back to the door—a head of white hair, an old white cotton shirt, and loose-fitting culottes. Holding a pair of chopsticks, the person was fishing pieces of lamb offal from a clay pot, slurping them up with a zzlurp zzlurp.

Fang Yuerong’s voice was filled with uncertainty: “Little pup?”

The boy turned around, his lips still glistening with bright orange chili oil, and greeted her, “Mom.”

A huge smile spread across Fang Yuerong’s face, her eyes glistening with tears. She didn’t even bother questioning why Sang Ye had come home three days earlier than expected. Instead, she tossed her silk-scarf-tied handbag onto the chopping board, grabbed his head, and planted a loud kiss on his forehead.

“Ahh! My little pup is home!”

A bright red lipstick mark was now stamped on the boy’s white bangs.

Sang Ye had arrived home around noon. The cramped economy-class seat had been unbearable, so after getting back, he skipped lunch, took a shower, changed into comfortable clothes, and immediately crashed onto his bed. It wasn’t until evening, when the aroma of lamb stew drifted upstairs, that he finally woke up and came downstairs.

Fang Yuerong examined him from head to toe and then back up again, marveling at his complexion. She pinched his fair, soft cheek. “Southern water and soil really do nourish people well.”

Sang Ye asked, “Where’s Dad?”

Fang Yuerong scoffed, “Off messing around again.”

Sang Ye glanced at the bubbling lamb stew in the clay pot. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet.” Fang Yuerong rolled up her sleeves and took a bowl from the sterilizer.

Then, without letting him lift a finger, she nudged him aside and told him to wait in the front room—she wouldn’t even let her son serve his own food.

—

When Tan Mo got home, neither his father nor his aunt was there.

By early evening, when dinner was about to be served, a variety of rich, fragrant dishes were placed on the dining table. It was then that Tan Zhengfeng finally returned.

Upon entering, he glanced at Tan Mo and asked, “Where is he?”

Tan Mo leaned against the wall, raising a hand to scratch his sharp nose bridge. “He went home.”

Tan Zhengfeng changed his shoes, let out a cold, ambiguous chuckle, and walked inside.

Tan Mo lowered his head, shoving both hands into his pockets.

“Well, serves you right,” Tan Zhengfeng remarked coolly, carrying his bag into the house. “You were in such a hurry, and now he’s run away.”

“……”

Tan Mo remained silent, saying nothing. With no words left to offer, he simply turned around and followed behind.

—

After dinner, the National Day Gala began airing on various TV channels.

But young people these days didn’t care much for those shows. Instead, they preferred celebrating by snatching up red envelopes in group chats.

With the sound of the TV playing in the background, Sang Ye sat alone on the porch, hunched over his phone. Two large white geese, left uncooped, wandered back and forth beside him.

Technically, he could’ve just stayed in the living room and played on his phone, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it held a secret. Taking it out in front of his parents made him anxious—like his secret might be exposed.

The WLG team’s group chat was buzzing with activity. The coach and Miao Sen had already sent out warm-up red envelopes.

Yu Ni Huanxi: [[Red Envelope]]

Sang Ye claimed one.

Opening it up…

1.72 yuan.

Looking through the list of amounts others had received, it seemed like everyone’s share was pretty small.

3.1415926: [What the hell?! There are so many of us, and you only put in 50 yuan? I saw you snagging over a thousand just now from the coach and Miao Sen’s envelopes—classic you, Yu Gonggong. 👍]

Yu Ni Huanxi: [Why should a humble worker make life harder for another humble worker? We should be asking the richest person in the group to send a red envelope. @T.]

Sang Ye’s grip on his phone tightened at the sight of that ID.

His legs were starting to go numb from squatting, so he shifted into a seated position on the steps, wrapping his arms around his knees.

Ever since waking up from his nap that afternoon, he’d been struggling with whether or not to message Tan Mo and explain why he had suddenly changed plans and gone home.

After all, he had bailed on him at the last minute. Leaving nothing but a single card wedged in the door was hardly sincere.

But even being back in the comfort of his own home didn’t give him the courage to reach out.

One moment, he worried that Tan Mo might still be angry and unwilling to talk to him—after all, he’d only sent that [Awake yet?] message in the morning and nothing else since.

The next moment, he worried that Tan Mo would ask if he had made up his mind yet. And if he still didn’t have an answer… would Tan Mo lose patience? Would he get even angrier?

What scared him most, though…

Was Tan Mo’s indifference.

Sang Ye hesitated, dragging things out until now. Even when red envelopes started popping up in the group chat, he kept telling himself to wait a little longer—to observe Tan Mo’s tone while chatting with the others before finding a chance to message him privately.

But from the moment the conversation started until now, Tan Mo hadn’t said a single word. His name wasn’t even on the list of people who had claimed red envelopes.

Maybe he was busy. Or maybe… he just wasn’t checking his messages.

Sang Ye bit his lower lip.

When something feels intimidating, if you don’t deal with it immediately, the longer you drag it out, the harder it becomes to act. Eventually, you might just give up altogether—Forget it. Whatever.

And just then—

After everyone in the group had been calling for him nonstop, a string of messages finally appeared.

—Tan Mo had sent twenty red envelopes all at once.

Sang Ye stared at his profile picture in a daze for two seconds before snapping out of it and clicking on the link.

The first one—

[Red envelope claimed~]

Only Xiao Pai and Yu Haotian had managed to grab anything, with a total of 200 yuan between them.

Each red envelope had a maximum of 200 yuan.

Sang Ye backed out and clicked on the second one.

[Red envelope claimed~]

“……”

After four failed attempts, Sang Ye impatiently scrolled all the way to the bottom and tapped the very last link.

【Red envelope claimed~】

“…………”

Are these people serious?

When competing with pro players in anything requiring speed, never let your guard down.

Sang Ye didn’t manage to snatch a single red envelope from Tan Mo. Frustrated, he ruffled his hair.

The others, on the other hand, were more than satisfied.

3.1415926: [Thank you, boss! ]

NotChangingMyNameUntilILose10kg: [Thank you, boss.jpg]

YuNiHuanXi: [Boss is so generous!]

…

…

Everyone was expressing their gratitude.

Sang Ye followed suit and sent a message.

[Thanks, boss.]

But Tan Mo didn’t reply.

Maybe he was busy…

Sang Ye lowered his gaze, put away his phone, and got up to go inside.

He sat with his parents for a while, watching TV, but he couldn’t muster any interest in the singing and dancing performances. After a bit, he excused himself, saying he was going to his room to play games.

“Son,” Sang Huaxin said, looking at him with concern, motioning for him to sit back down. “You already play games all the time for work. Now that you’re home, why don’t you take a break?”

“…………”

Sang Ye still went back to his room.

Even though playing games was part of a pro player’s job, at the end of the day, they were still gaming addicts—playing for work didn’t mean they wouldn’t want to play for fun.

After logging into his account, Sang Ye decided to start a livestream.

His viewer count shot up quickly.

[“Fu Gui, where are you? Not at the team base?”]

[“Why are you streaming today? Didn’t see any announcement.”]

[“Someone send this link to Tan Shen, who can’t even be bothered to stream once a month. Look how dedicated and hardworking his “wife” is.”]

While clearing out some Steam friend requests, Sang Ye glanced at the chat. “I’m at home. Don’t like watching the holiday gala, so I figured I’d get online for a few games… Stop making a fuss.”

[“Fu Gui, you look a little tired.”]

[“You seem kinda down.”]

Sang Ye didn’t deny it. “Woke up early for my flight today—pretty exhausted.”

[“Guys, how about we go watch Nuo Nuo’s stream instead? She’s duo-queuing with her boyfriend, laughing so sweetly. She’s got the looks, the attitude—why waste time watching a moody streamer here?”]

There were always trolls trying to stir things up. Normally, Sang Ye wouldn’t bother responding, but today, he was in a bad mood. Seeing the comment, he clapped back immediately: “How am I giving you a bad attitude? I was born with this face—do I owe you something? Go watch whoever you want, no one’s stopping you.”

Nuo Nuo had publicly announced her relationship over two weeks ago. Xiao Pai had been heartbroken for a night, but thankfully, his ability to self-heal was strong—plus, he had plenty of “big sisters” to comfort him.

Later on, whenever Xiao Pai had free time, he would still drop by Nuo Nuo’s stream and send her virtual gifts. Sang Ye had noticed it a few times—compared to before, Nuo Nuo really did smile a lot more now, and it was a very sweet kind of smile.

Sang Ye glanced again at the chat message comparing him to Nuonuo. He pursed his lips unhappily and muttered, “She has a boyfriend to play games with, I don’t. And they blame me for not being sweet? What kind of bull—”

[“Hahahahahaha! Song Bao’s commentary is spot-on! But why does it sound like he’s a little bitter?”]

[“The resentment of a single dog, hhhhhhh…”]

[“You’re sweet too, baby! When Tan Shen is around, you’re the sweetest of all—a little sugar bean!”]

Sang Ye’s face heated up instantly. He had just been making an offhand comment—he didn’t mean anything by it.

“Can you guys stop bringing up Talk all the time? He’s busy—”

Before he could finish, the loud sound effect of a Super Battleship drowned out his voice.

A system notification popped up:

[Distinguished Platinum User wlg-Talk has sent you 20 Super Battleships.]

“……”

Afraid he had seen wrong, Sang Ye leaned closer to the screen and checked the username twice. He was dazed for a moment, and then his face was overtaken by a deep blush.

[“????? He’s busy? Busy doing what? Watching his wife’s stream and sending gifts?”]

[“He just dropped 200,000?! According to the local wedding custom of an 88,000 betrothal gift, Tan Shen could marry Song twice!”]

Seeing Tan Mo appear in his stream, all the bottled-up emotions Sang Ye had been holding onto all afternoon finally found an outlet. He had so much he wanted to say, but he was afraid Tan Mo would leave after sending the gifts, so he hurriedly asked, “What are you doing here?”

[“Fu Gui, what are you waiting for?! Get Tan Shen on voice chat!”]

Sang Ye didn’t even bother to ask whether Tan Mo was free to talk—he immediately hit the voice call button in the stream.

Thankfully, the request was accepted.

“Hey?”

A deep, lazy voice rang out.

Hearing that Tan Mo’s tone was the same as usual—at least not cold and distant, as he had feared—Sang Ye’s heart felt a little lighter. He adjusted his headset, and a bright gleam flickered in his dark eyes. “Why did you send me so many gifts?”

Tan Mo replied, “Didn’t you miss out on the red envelopes in the group chat earlier?”

Sang Ye was momentarily stunned.

Tan Mo hadn’t sent any more messages after dropping the red envelopes earlier, but somehow, he still knew that Sang Ye hadn’t managed to grab a single one.

Did that mean Talk had also opened each red envelope one by one, searching for his name?

Sang Ye lowered his gaze, covering his burning face with both hands, completely at a loss.

Talk had already given him so much attention, so why was he still feeling so unsettled?

Sang Ye scrunched his nose slightly, inwardly scolding himself.

You’re being ridiculous.

At that moment, Tan Mo asked, “Why are you blushing?”

“……”

Sang Ye lifted his eyes to the camera, only then remembering that Tan Mo could see him through the livestream.

But he couldn’t see Tan Mo.

Aaaaaaah! Not fair! Not fair!

Frantically, Sang Ye reached for his mouse, pouting, “I’m not streaming anymore! I’m ending it! I’ll call you on my phone instead!”

The fans panicked. [“No! They couldn’t miss out on this cute couple’s phone call! Absolutely not!!!”]

But before the chat could flood with wails of protest, Tan Mo spoke.

“Don’t turn it off.”

Sang Ye’s fingers hovered just above the red end stream button.

Tan Mo’s voice softened, as if coaxing him.

“Let me see you.”

[“Aaaaaahhhhhh! I can’t take this! Tan Shen is killing me! He’s flirting like crazy with Song Bao again!”]

[“Funny how Song doesn’t look tired at all now :)”]

Sang Ye furrowed his brows in frustration, feeling like every pore on his face was radiating heat. In the end, he moved the mouse away from the close button.

Just then, a flashy golden message slowly scrolled across the screen.

Distinguished Platinum User WLGPi: [“Brother, what’s the deal? You give our entire group twenty red envelopes with 200 each, but for Bai Mao, you drop twenty battleships worth 10,000 each? A team doesn’t suffer from scarcity, it suffers from inequality…”]

Xiao Pai had probably gone over to Nuo Nuo’s stream to torment himself again, only to see the viral news about Tan Mo’s lavish gift drop. Following the trail, he made his way here.

The comments continued to roll in, but Sang Ye simply pressed on that giant ID and blocked him.

Suddenly cut off from the stream, Xiao Pai: “???”

Sang Ye finally managed to steady his emotions and repeated his question from earlier, “Why are you here?”

Surely, he hadn’t logged in just to send him red envelopes.

Tan Mo replied, “I heard someone complaining.”

Sang Ye was confused. “What?”

Tan Mo’s voice carried a hint of amusement. “Saying that other people have boyfriends to game with, but they don’t.”

The chat erupted with a collective [“Awooo!”] and went wild again.

Sang Ye’s face flushed instantly. He straightened his posture and stammered in defense, hands flailing awkwardly, “I didn’t! I… I was just responding to that comment… That’s not what I meant!”

On Tan Mo’s side, there was the sound of footsteps crossing the floor, followed by the creak of a chair.

He had changed positions.

“What do you mean, you don’t have a boyfriend to play with?” Tan Mo’s tone was lazy, his last syllable dragging out suggestively. “Hmm?”

“……”

Sang Ye’s heart pounded wildly, his hands pressing against his burning cheeks. He glanced at the number in the top right corner—his viewers were about to surpass eight million. He couldn’t just shut off the stream, which only made his embarrassment worse.

His dark eyes glared helplessly at the screen, utterly speechless, on the verge of being bullied into tears.

And Tan Mo was still at it. “You don’t want the boyfriend I’m offering you.”

Sang Ye ran a slender, pale finger across his face. “Stop… Stop talking.”

Tan Mo said, “I’ll play with you. Hold on, let me turn on my computer.”

The next thing that came through was the sound of a PC booting up.

…

After that, Sang Ye and Tan Mo played duo matches together in a casual game mode.

Gaming with Tan Mo still felt the same as before. As Sang Ye gradually regained his usual rhythm, the tension from the past two days faded.

By the third match, the zone had centered around P City. The two of them camped inside a house, waiting for passing squads.

Sang Ye wasn’t fully focused while aiming. He kept glancing at Tan Mo in the corner of his screen, hesitated for a long time, then finally tested the waters, saying, “I woke up really early this morning… so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Tan Mo gave a neutral “Mhm,” his tone unreadable.

Sang Ye pressed his lips together, held his breath, and peered down the road through his scope. “When you texted me, I was still on the plane. I saw it later… but at the time, I just… thought I should say something, yet I never replied…”

The more guilty he felt, the quieter his voice became.

Tan Mo’s response was brief. “I didn’t blame you.”

That only made Sang Ye feel worse. His lashes drooped, and even his crosshair unconsciously lowered.

“Talk.”

“Mhm?”

“I’m not ready yet.”

Tan Mo stared at the computer screen, but his gaze was unfocused.

He could tell.

These past two days, he had been making Sang Ye feel troubled.

The chat was flooded with [“?”], everyone asking what on earth these two were talking about. They were completely lost.

Right at that moment, multiple footsteps echoed from downstairs.

Sang Ye snapped back to his senses and quickly raised his gun, only to realize—frustratingly—that a car had pulled up by the road.

He hadn’t been paying attention and let the enemy slip into the building.

But in reality, neither of them had been focusing on the game.

Fortunately, it wasn’t a big problem.

As soon as the enemies reached the second floor and turned towards the room, Sang Ye met one head-on and took them down with two shotgun blasts.

The second opponent rushed in immediately after. Tan Mo, waiting by the wall, caught them from the side.

And just like that, two fresh loot crates appeared on the floor.

Tan Mo walked up to loot the supplies, his tone calm. “If you feel like things are too overwhelming, then take a step back. I understand, and I’ll know what to do. Just go at your own pace.”

The chat: [“Maybe they’re discussing some kind of new strategy?”]

Sang Ye furrowed his brows. “Then what about you…?”

“I’m fine,” Tan Mo interrupted, his voice low. “Don’t worry about me. Just know that if you feel pressured, I won’t be comfortable either.”

Sang Ye’s face turned red. He lowered his gaze, overcome with shame.

Tan Mo had actually sensed all of Sang Ye’s avoidance before.

Lifting his gaze slightly, Tan Mo resumed his usual tone—perhaps even more relaxed than before. “Come here. Why are you just standing there like an idi*t?”

Sang Ye steadied his emotions, walked over to loot the supplies, and suddenly had a mischievous idea. He decided to be a little troublemaker and took all the bullets.

“Hmph!”

It wasn’t really a big deal. Sang Ye was just looking for something to fuss about, letting his inner drama queen take over.

“You called me an idi*t, so I’m not leaving a single bullet for you.”

“Oh, is that so?” Tan Mo calmly attached his weapon accessories and said, “Just make sure to point your gun at the enemy. You don’t need to leave anything for me—your little tantrum is already enough to kill me.”

[“AHHHHHHHHHHHH——!!!”]

If chat required people to actually scream in real life to send messages, then every single fan that night would have ended up with a sore throat.

…

By the time Sang Ye walked downstairs, holding onto the railing for support, his legs were weak.

He knew it—Tan Mo had been acting more and more outrageous ever since confessing his feelings.

It was just too intoxicating.

Sang Ye went to the kitchen to pour himself some water, only to notice that the living room TV was still on, but his parents were nowhere in sight. Outside, the courtyard lights were on, and a rhythmic thud! thud! thud! echoed through the night.

He walked to the door and saw his dad crouching on the porch, smoking a cigarette while scrolling through his phone.

Meanwhile, his mom stood in the courtyard, facing a large wooden chopping board against the wall.

With each swift motion of her knife—up, down, up, down…

At her feet lay a limp goose with its neck snapped.

There was probably another one on the chopping board.

Sang Ye: “…………”

Sang Huaxin glanced back at him through the haze of white smoke, squinting slightly, then gestured beside him. “Son, come squat down.”

Sang Ye obediently crouched beside him. “What are we doing?”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Sang Huaxin flipped his phone around and tapped the screen. “Why is everyone saying this young man spent two hundred thousand on a bride price to marry you?”

“……”

Sang Ye looked at the screen and saw a screenshot. Not only did it show the notification of Tan Mo sending twenty warships, but it also contained the ridiculous comments from his unreliable fake fans.

—— […Based on our local custom of an 88,000 bride price, Tan Shen could marry Song twice over.]

Sang Ye shot up from his squat, completely flustered. His words tumbled out in a rush, completely unrelated to each other.

“No, no, they’re just talking nonsense! He’s my team captain! He was watching my stream and saw that I didn’t get a red envelope, so he sent me gifts instead! It’s just… just that captain you said looked good last time! He’s always been nice to me, always looking after me! There’s really nothing between us! It’s just that things have been a little weird lately, I… I… I, he…”

The more Sang Ye spoke, the redder his face became. His eyes grew misty with frustration.

In the end, he took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling heavily. With his head lowered, he finally admitted in one go:

“Dad, I like him.”

“……”

Sang Huaxin stared at him, looking a bit dazed. The cigarette ash at the tip of his smoke crumbled and fell.

In the courtyard, the sound of chopping abruptly stopped.

Under the moonlight, Fang Yuerong straightened up, gripping a blood-stained kitchen knife in her hand, silent.

Sang Ye swallowed hard.

“…………”

---