Chapter 67 – Meet The Parents.
Sang Ye’s thoughts were completely paralyzed by shock, but his body was honest—releasing all the necessary hormones and triggering a chain of physiological reactions.
—His dark pupils dilated slightly, as if injected with starlight. The capillaries on his face swelled with the rush of blood, burning hot. His sympathetic nervous system was on high alert, yet his blood oxygen levels compressed, making it harder and harder to breathe.
Sang Ye had experience with confessions—starting from his very first day of kindergarten.
Of course, things from such a young age hardly counted. But even during his time at trade school, he had received confessions from classmates, underclassmen, and even seniors. Yet after hearing them out, he always felt nothing. No ripples in his heart. In fact, since those girls often blocked his way to the internet café, delaying his gaming time, he found them more of a nuisance than anything.
There were also a few guys who hovered around him, acting especially attentive. But Sang Ye never even gave them a chance at friendship—his instincts told him that their presence felt off. They weren’t on the same wavelength.
But this time, this moment—
That one sentence, “I like you,” from the man in front of him shattered Sang Ye into pieces, leaving him utterly wrecked. The starry sky above spun wildly, and the ground beneath his feet collapsed.
He felt like he was about to die.
Then suddenly—snap.
Talk’s fingers snapped, pulling him back.
Sang Ye flinched slightly, blinking as if jolted out of freefall.
Talk watched him without looking away. Though there was a trace of teasing amusement in his gaze, Sang Ye could see it—Talk was nervous.
Which only made his own nerves spike even further.
“I…” The first sound Sang Ye made was just air. Lacking oxygen, he couldn’t muster any strength to speak.
He looked at Talk again, his gaze trembling slightly.
If the excitement, thrill, and near-burning intensity from before had been a magnificent main course, then what arrived at the table now—late but inevitable—was a dessert named panic.
Sang Ye lowered his eyes, took half a step back, and murmured, “I don’t know. I never thought about it…”
A pure-hearted boy had always run toward the stars, never once considering claiming one for himself.
But then one day, the star suddenly turned around and ran toward him—without warning, without a single sign.
For someone like Sang Ye, who had been completely unprepared, this wasn’t the joy of seeing a shooting star after making a wish.
It was a meteor crashing into Earth—one powerful enough to shake his entire worldview.
Talk slowly exhaled, having mentally prepared himself for this moment.
Since he had already kissed Sang Ye, he owed him an explanation. Lying was unnecessary—it would be irresponsible. But confessing to a straight guy definitely required the courage of someone facing death head-on.
Sang Ye’s reaction wasn’t unexpected.
The boy was clueless when it came to emotions, especially slow-witted in matters of the heart. He always relied on instinct to charge ahead, and now, a sudden confession must have completely thrown him into chaos.
Talk wasn’t surprised. Still, this was his first time confessing in his life, and failing at it naturally left him feeling disappointed.
The only silver lining was that Sang Ye hadn’t outright rejected him. As long as that hadn’t happened, there was no need to rush an answer.
Pushing Sang Ye too hard would only backfire on him.
Talk lowered his head and absentmindedly kicked at a small rock beneath his foot. “Think it over carefully. Let me know when you’ve made up your mind. Either way… I’ll be sitting next to you every day. Not going anywhere.”
“……”
Sang Ye wasn’t sure if Talk was joking. How could he still have the mood to joke at a time like this?
But something about it tickled at his heart, easing his nerves a little.
The conversation ended there, and Talk turned toward the dormitory building.
“You did great today. You’re a good commander.”
As he passed, he patted Sang Ye’s shoulder, his eyes lowered.
“Get some rest.”
Sang Ye tensed where he had been touched, his shoulder tightening involuntarily. He averted his gaze and mumbled in a small voice, “…Oh. Okay.”
Talk walked away, and Sang Ye remained standing there, letting out a long breath of relief.
Only after gathering his thoughts did he realize that his face was burning.
The late September night breeze brushed against him, cooling some of the heat from his cheeks.
And then, in the quiet, the wind carried a familiar, faintly cool scent back toward him.
—Talk had returned.
He reached out, cupping one of Sang Ye’s flushed cheeks, and gently turned his face toward him. Lowering his back, he pressed a kiss onto the boy’s soft lips.
Sang Ye stood frozen, eyes wide, catching the faint scent of dried tobacco on Talk’s fingers.
The dim glow of the streetlamp cast a hazy veil over them, while the night breeze stirred the air like a whisper through silk. From the pitch-black bushes nearby, the raspy song of cicadas hummed relentlessly.
Talk’s kiss was meticulous, tender, carrying a hint of malt beer. It was intoxicating—far more deliberate than the hesitant, rushed one they had shared before in the stairwell of the sports center.
The strength in Sang Ye’s legs slowly drained away. His resistance weakened—not against Talk, but against himself.
His long lashes quivered, struggling to hold on—until finally, he couldn’t anymore.
His eyes fluttered shut, surrendering, letting Talk lead him as he pleased.
…
Under the cover of night, everything ended as quietly as it had begun—secretive, hidden from the world.
Talk rested his forehead against Sang Ye’s, his usually deep and steady voice carrying a rare breathlessness as he confirmed once more, “You’ll think about it, right?”
Sang Ye’s mind was a tangled mess. His gaze dropped, his face flushed an unnatural shade of red, and he let out a muffled, kitten-like murmur, “Mm…”
“Good.” Talk tilted his head, pressing a kiss to Sang Ye’s fair eyelid, then whispered, “I’ll wait for you to surprise me, Sang Ye.”
Sang Ye still remembered those words.
Talk had said them before—back when his birthday was approaching, and Sang Ye had asked him what he wanted as a gift.
Talk had stubbornly insisted on something free.
Back then, Sang Ye hadn’t understood. But now, as he stood alone beneath the dormitory, letting the night breeze cool his burning face, he finally realized what kind of surprise Talk had been waiting for.
—His love, his presence, and his courage.
…
Sang Ye slowly crouched down by the flower bed, pressing both hands to his flushed cheeks.
Had Talk already liked him from that moment on?
…
Sang Ye didn’t return to his room until 1 AM.
He had nearly frozen outside, but somehow, he still felt unbearably hot—an unshakable restlessness burning inside him.
Since the off-season officially started tomorrow, the training schedule would be more relaxed for a week, meaning there was no rush to get to the training room early.
Sang Ye sluggishly took a shower, then slowly climbed into bed, rolling himself up in the blanket like a cocoon before falling completely still.
He couldn’t wrap his head around it—why would Tan Mo like him?
He was just a fan at first, at most just a teammate. No different from Xiao Pai, E Lan, or Shine. Sure, he was closer to Tan Mo, liked to stick to him more than the others did, but how did that turn into… this?
Someone like Tan Mo—so outstanding, so exceptional—how could he possibly like him?
Sang Ye furrowed his brows and clicked his tongue in frustration. He ruffled his hair, his mind a chaotic mess, feeling hot all over again. He threw the blanket off in annoyance.
In his eyes, if Tan Mo hadn’t chosen to go into esports, he would’ve been a corporate elite, a research institute leader, or a major figure in the political and business world—someone with influence in any industry.
A Caltech graduate, for god’s sake. A top academic, fluent in at least four languages, skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting—he could stand on any stage and shine.
Sang Ye grabbed his phone, opened Baidu, and searched for “California Institute of Technology.”
Reading through the impressive achievements of its alumni, he shrank deeper into his blanket.
Maybe the AC was set too low. He suddenly felt cold and curled back under the covers, leaving only his head exposed.
He shut off his phone and tossed it aside, still deep in thought.
Tan Mo is such a genius—how could he possibly like an idi*t like me?
Sang Ye thought back to his own school. Its full name was Shanxi Datong Coal and Electronics Technology Vocational Institute. The name was so long that every time he had to fill out a form, he had to write an entire paragraph. Eventually, he got tired of it and gave his school a personal abbreviation—Shanxi Academy.
It had “Academy” in the name, but it wasn’t anything like that academy.
Caltech only had about a thousand undergraduates in total. His school had around fifteen classes per grade, with about a thousand students per year. The program lasted five years, spanning five grade levels. The student body was massive, yet barely anyone actually studied.
Sang Ye had been one of the many who never cared about academics. If his classmates managed to graduate, most of them would end up working in factories or mines.
If Sang Ye’s family hadn’t been well-off, if he had to worry about making a living, he would have been destined for a life of tightening screws on an assembly line at Foxconn.
Thinking about his school, Sang Ye let out a soft sigh. A faint trace of melancholy settled on his face as he felt the weight of the vast gap between him and Tan Mo.
He had never thought about these things before.
Who he was, where he came from—it had never mattered. None of that had ever stopped him from being a fan.
Tan Mo wouldn’t refuse to let him admire him just because he wasn’t good at studying, just because he didn’t even have a middle school diploma.
But now, things were different.
The moment Tan Mo said he liked him, Sang Ye started re-evaluating himself. And the more he examined himself, the smaller he felt—until he finally shrank completely under the covers.
That night, Sang Ye fell asleep without even turning off the lights and had a dream.
In the dream, he was bouncing around on a giant, fluffy cloud of cotton candy, surrounded by a sweet, sugary scent. He could reach out and touch the endless blue sky—the same vast sky he had seen behind the jagged mountains of Datong.
Then, with a soft pop, the cotton candy cloud dispersed. He began to fall, plummeting endlessly into the unknown…
…
Despite going to bed late, Sang Ye still woke up at his usual time the next day.
His conjunctivitis had cleared up, and though his meibomian gland was still healing, the red, swollen bump was noticeably smaller than the day before.
He applied some ointment in front of the mirror, then headed out to the practice room.
When he arrived, the place was empty—no one else had come yet. While booting up his computer, he unwrapped the packaged wontons he had brought with him.
Perched on his chair, he ate breakfast while reaching for his keyboard to search for something on Baidu.
—— [Adult Education]
—— [Academic Advancement]
—— [Self-Taught University Exams]
—— [Associate to Bachelor’s Degree Programs]
—— [Do International Students Like Vocational School Graduates?]
After searching around, Sang Ye frustratingly realized that fate had already closed the door to academic success for him. Besides, he was never cut out for studying in the first place.
Regret began to creep in.
Every summer, his mother had suggested taking him abroad—visiting fashion weeks, carnivals, and all sorts of events. But Sang Ye had been lazy, preferring to stay home and play video games.
Now, look at him—barely educated and lacking worldly experience.
Irritated with himself, he pursed his lips and stuffed two more wontons into his mouth, his eyelashes lowering in quiet contemplation.
A moment later, he reached for the keyboard again and continued searching.
—— [Shanghai Real Estate Prices]
—— [Jing’an District Housing Prices]
—— [How Big of a House Can You Buy in Shanghai with 10 Million?]
As he kept reading, his attention drifted to the suggested related topics.
When Xiao Pai strolled into the practice room humming “La la la la” and swinging his egg pancake around, Sang Ye was crouched in front of his computer, fully engrossed in a Zhihu thread.
So when Xiao Pai leaned in, Sang Ye didn’t react in time to close the page.
“What are you looking at so seriously?” Xiao Pai, showing no sense of personal boundaries, read the topic out loud straight from the screen. “Do Shanghai men generally avoid marrying women from other provinces?… Huh?” (*Actual question from Zhihu.)
Xiao Pai frowned, his head filling with question marks.
Sang Ye’s face instantly flushed red. In a flustered panic, he reached for the mouse.
But Xiao Pai was faster, placing his hand over the mouse and scrolling down to skim the responses. Shaking his head, he frowned even more. “Bai Mao, what kind of nonsense are you reading? This question itself is problematic. It’s 2022—how do people still have these kinds of biases?”
Sang Ye stammered, “I… I was just looking around… Give me the mouse!”
But as Xiao Pai kept scrolling, he realized that quite a few of the replies were indeed filled with prejudice.
Xiao Pai let out a laugh, shaking his head as he let go of the mouse. He casually pulled over Tan Mo’s chair and sat down. Since he couldn’t argue online, he decided to debate the topic with Sang Ye instead.
“If you’re talking about ten or twenty years ago, sure—people in Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Shanghai might have preferred to find partners locally. But now? With how developed information and transportation are, the world is basically a village. People are more open-minded. The younger generation doesn’t care where you’re from. Forget Shanghai—if there’s still a guy today who limits his marriage prospects based on geography, then he’s probably not that capable anyway. Not worth it.”
Sang Ye, his face flushed red, quickly closed the webpage, climbed down from his chair, and sat properly. “Don’t talk to me about this! I told you, I wasn’t really paying attention. I was just looking around.”
Xiao Pai, on a roll, didn’t stop: “Women should look for men like me—men who only care about truth, goodness, and beauty.”
Sang Ye locked his computer screen. “Get lost.”
Just then—
Someone else walked in.
Xiao Pai lifted a hand and greeted the newcomer at the door. “Morning, brother!”
Sang Ye’s back stiffened. The heat that had just faded from his face rushed back, this time spreading all the way down his neck. He stared at his now-black computer screen, frozen.
“Morning.”
Tan Mo’s voice, still hoarse from sleep, drifted in from behind.
Xiao Pai stood up and gave up his seat. “Oh, right, brother—tell Bai Mao, would you ever limit your marriage based on location?”
“……”
Sang Ye nearly jumped out of his seat.
What the hell does this have to do with me?!
As he squirmed in discomfort, Tan Mo walked to the table, set his things down, and answered lazily, “Yeah.”
Sang Ye paused for a moment, then picked up his spoon and buried his head in his bowl, continuing to eat his wontons.
But since he had been distracted while eating and browsing earlier, the wontons had gone cold. The wrappers were soggy and limp. As he chewed, his brows furrowed slightly.
Xiao Pai let out a baffled “Huh?” and turned to Tan Mo with an expression of disbelief. “Brother… that really doesn’t sound like something you’d say.”
“Problem?” Tan Mo sat down in his gaming chair, rolled up his sleeves, and turned toward Xiao Pai. “If they’re not from Shanxi, I won’t marry them.”
“—Cough!” Sang Ye nearly choked on a wonton wrapper and hurriedly wiped his mouth.
A pack of tissues landed on his desk.
Sang Ye pulled out a few sheets.
Xiao Pai was still confused. “Wait… why?”
Tan Mo said, “Everyone has their own preferences. Why do you care?”
Sang Ye held a tissue over his mouth and secretly glanced in Tan Mo’s direction.
Unexpectedly, Tan Mo caught him.
Tan Mo tilted his chin toward him. “Don’t you think so?”
“……”
Sang Ye immediately ducked his head, his entire face flushing red.
…
In the afternoon, Yu Haotian came into the practice room to check everyone’s plans for the National Day holiday.
Sang Ye glanced at the bottom of his computer screen and suddenly realized that October 1st was just two days away.
Tan Mo and Xiao Pai were both locals and had no travel plans after the Intercontinental Tournament.
Hufu said he’d take advantage of the short break to go home.
Yu Haotian then turned to Sang Ye. “Song, are you going home for National Day?”
He barely finished his sentence before noticing that Sang Ye had already opened an airline website, browsing for tickets.
“……”
Yu Haotian walked over and asked, “When are you leaving?”
Unfortunately, it was already too late—peak ticket-buying season had ended a month ago.
Staring at the screen, Sang Ye thought for a moment and said, “The 4th… There are still a few tickets left for the 4th.”
Tan Mo, still sitting in his chair, slid over, glanced at the flight list, and suggested, “You should buy your return ticket in advance too.”
“Oh, okay.”
Sang Ye quickly searched for return tickets.
Yu Haotian chuckled. “Captain Tan, he hasn’t even left yet, and you’re already rushing him back?”
As Sang Ye finalized his purchase, his face grew hot again. He lowered his head to enter his password—twice before getting it right.
Xiao Pai laughed too. “Brother, didn’t you say you were going to marry someone from Bai Mao’s hometown? If you’re free for the holiday, why not go back with him? Don’t just talk about it—true love has to be pursued with real action.”
Yu Haotian glanced at Tan Mo, raising an eyebrow slightly.
As one of the few people who knew about Tan Mo’s little secret, Yu Haotian grew curious about how far things had progressed between the two.
Sang Ye continued booking his return ticket, annoyed by Xiao Pai’s teasing. “None of your business.”
Talk was just going home. That whole ‘Only marry someone from Shanxi’ thing was just a joke—nothing serious…
Then, Sang Ye noticed Tan Mo watching him from the side.
He hesitated for a moment before meeting his gaze. “What?”
Tan Mo asked, “Is it okay?”
Sang Ye was caught off guard. “…Huh?”
Tan Mo glanced at the screen. “If it’s okay, book my ticket too. I haven’t been to Taiyuan in two years.”
Sang Ye: “…………”
Xiao Pai and Hu Fu immediately dropped what they were doing.
“Ohhhhhh~~”
“Tan God, you’re really going?” Hu Fu laughed in disbelief. “Didn’t take you for someone so eager to find a mate.”
Xiao Pai rubbed his hands together excitedly. “After National Day, can we expect a meet-the-sister-in-law event? Huh? Can we?”
Sang Ye couldn’t sit still anymore. His face burned as he abruptly stood up, grabbing his thermos. “I… I’m getting water.”
Yu Haotian watched the flustered boy rush out of the room, sensing something was up. His eyebrows arched even higher.
After finishing the headcount, he was about to leave but gave them one last reminder. “Don’t slack off during the holiday. Make sure to stream a little, or you’ll be drowning in work all October.”
In just a month and a half, the Global Invitational would begin. Once they returned from the break, they’d need to dedicate all their time to training.
Before stepping out, Yu Haotian deliberately walked past Tan Mo’s seat, gave him a knowing nudge, and lowered his voice. “Long road ahead, Captain Tan.”
Tan Mo replied, “Close the door on your way out.”
Sang Ye didn’t go to the water station. Instead, he found a balcony, stood there with his thermos, and let the wind blow against him.
When Tan Mo asked him to book the ticket, he hadn’t sounded like he was joking. Just thinking about it made Sang Ye’s heart race. The words meeting the parents immediately popped into his mind.
He wasn’t against Talk going home with him. If it was just for a trip, he’d be happy to host him properly. But if it was for… that—it was way too fast.
He hadn’t even thought it through, let alone prepared for it.
A faint sense of pressure crept over him. He rubbed his face, only now realizing that Tan Mo had been holding back before. Ever since his confession, he’d been making Sang Ye blush and his heart pound at every turn.
This couldn’t go on. It was way too easy to get carried away…
Just as Sang Ye was lost in his own frustrations, he heard an urgent voice from the staircase not far away.
“Manager Yu, wait a second, I just have two questions—Yu Haotian, stop right there!”
That final, frustrated shout caught Sang Ye’s attention. He turned his head to look.
Moments later, Yu Haotian stepped up the stairs, his face showing the last traces of patience as he turned around.
Someone followed him up.
It was An Liu.
Sang Ye was partially hidden by a half-wall on the balcony, so the two hadn’t noticed him yet.
An Liu pulled out a piece of paper, shaking it in front of Yu Haotian with urgency. “What does this mean? Why was my streaming account’s verification canceled before the three-month period was even up? Not only are you kicking me out, but you’re making me pay 300,000—what the hell is this?”
“It’s exactly what it says,” Yu Haotian replied. “You violated the non-compete clause by attempting to recruit players under contract with our club to another team. You signed an agreement when you joined. Now that you’ve breached it, this is your penalty.”
An Liu’s face turned pale. “There has to be a misunderstanding—I didn’t…”
“If we didn’t have solid proof, we wouldn’t have sent you the notice,” Yu Haotian cut him off, making it clear. “The NSN manager didn’t want to get sued, so he sent us your chat records. There are plenty of transaction logs in there.”
An Liu fell completely silent. He leaned against the wall, looking unsteady on his feet.
After a long pause—
“Three hundred thousand?” His eyes darted anxiously to the paper. “Where am I supposed to get that kind of money? Can’t we negotiate privately?”
“WLG has spent far more than 300,000 on you over the past two years,” Yu Haotian sneered. “Don’t make me curse you out.” Then, his tone cooled even further. “Since you’ve received the notice, pack your things and leave the base today. Make sure the payment reaches the listed account before the deadline.”
With that, Yu Haotian left without a shred of hesitation.
An Liu stood there alone, looking utterly dejected.
On the balcony, Sang Ye turned back, leaning against the railing, letting the wind blow over him as he continued to brood.
What if Talk insisted on going home with him for the National Day holiday?
Sang Ye ruffled his white hair.
This was driving him crazy.
…
When Sang Ye returned to the practice room, Tan Mo didn’t bring up the plane tickets again, which allowed him to breathe a sigh of relief.
Thinking back on it, Sang Ye figured Tan Mo probably hadn’t meant anything like meeting the parents. He was likely just looking for a holiday trip—Sang Ye had overthought it.
After all, when young people date these days, meeting the parents definitely isn’t the first step. What if Talk lost interest halfway through? Explaining everything to his parents later would be incredibly awkward…
Sang Ye scratched his head.
He was overreacting again.
The next day, Hu Fu took a day off and left for the high-speed train.
Xiao Pai showed up at the practice room, pushing his suitcase, ready to leave as soon as his shift ended.
The holiday atmosphere was in full swing.
But when Tan Mo walked in, he was still as relaxed as ever, casually carrying his breakfast.
Xiao Pai was puzzled. “Brother, aren’t you going home for the National Day holiday? Where’s your luggage?”
“My house isn’t far. I’ll go back tomorrow,” Tan Mo replied. “I’ll stay here for the night.”
Xiao Pai let out an “Oh” and casually remarked, “Then that means tonight, it’s just you and Bai Mao in the base.”
Sang Ye immediately sat up straighter and gulped down his wonton.
Back in the day, if he were the only one left in the base with Tan Mo, he’d be thrilled.
But now, that subtle pressure was creeping up on him again.
After sitting down, Tan Mo casually said to Sang Ye, “Let’s have dinner together tonight.”
Sang Ye looked at his computer screen and nodded. After a two-second pause, he finally answered, “Okay.”
“Dinner? What dinner?” Xiao Pai turned around. “Where are you eating? I want to come too!”
Tan Mo, still looking down at his phone, replied flatly, “You’re not coming. You’re going home.”
“Nooo!” Xiao Pai scooted his chair closer. “I live nearby, so it doesn’t matter if I leave early or late. If we eat together, I can even avoid rush hour, brother!”
Tan Mo didn’t even lift his head. “I’m not your brother.”
“…” Xiao Pai turned to Sang Ye. “Bai Mao! Tell me, are you bringing me along or not?”
Sang Ye peeled Xiao Pai’s hand off him. “Don’t ask me…”
Xiao Pai stood up. “Are you trying to hog him all to yourself—”
“Fine, fine, you’re coming,” Sang Ye quickly pulled Xiao Pai back down.
“You sure?” Tan Mo lifted his gaze to Sang Ye, then glanced at Xiao Pai. “You really want to bring along this…”
Eyesore.
Sang Ye avoided Tan Mo’s gaze, hesitated, and muttered, “The more, the merrier.”
Xiao Pai, oblivious as ever, turned back around. “Dinner gathering tonight, then!”
“…”
Tan Mo pressed his tongue against his cheek in silence, then canceled the Michelin-starred French dinner for two he had just booked and changed it to a traditional Chongqing hotpot restaurant.
…
At the hotpot place that evening, Tan Mo barely ate anything. Instead, he kept urging Xiao Pai, “Eat more. Eat faster.”
Xiao Pai, feeling the overwhelming care, grinned happily, oil dripping from the corners of his mouth. “Brother, don’t be shy. You should eat more too.”
By the time it was past nine, Xiao Pai, thoroughly satisfied, patted his full stomach, grabbed his suitcase, and hopped into a taxi. Before leaving, he waved at the two standing by the roadside. “Bai Mao, stay safe on your way home! Brother, after the holiday, I expect to meet our future sister-in-law!”
Tan Mo smiled and waved back at Xiao Pai. But the moment the car drove off, he dropped his hand and muttered expressionlessly, “No sense of awareness.”
Sang Ye: “…………”
Since the hotpot restaurant was close to the base, they decided to walk back, strolling casually along the sidewalk.
As they walked, Sang Ye kept his gaze lowered, unconsciously covering his left arm with his right hand as if he were afraid of accidentally brushing against Tan Mo beside him.
When they turned a corner, a speeding yellow delivery scooter suddenly swerved onto the pedestrian walkway, rushing past Sang Ye.
Reacting quickly, Tan Mo pulled Sang Ye toward him, frowning as he shot a displeased look at the delivery vehicle speeding away. Then he turned to Sang Ye. “Are you okay?”
Sang Ye shook his head. “I’m fine.”
When Tan Mo let go of Sang Ye, he smoothly intertwined their fingers instead, preventing any further accidents.
Sang Ye felt the warmth of Tan Mo’s palm between his fingers. His lips parted slightly, as if he suddenly needed a deep breath of air.
Hand in hand, they walked back into the base and toward the dormitory building.
Tan Mo asked, “You’re leaving on the fourth, right? Do you have anything planned for the next three days?”
Sang Ye answered honestly, “Not really. Just sleeping, resting, maybe streaming if I have time.”
Tan Mo looked at him. “Doesn’t that sound boring?”
Sang Ye was indifferent. “It’s fine. I’d probably be doing the same thing at home.”
Tan Mo said, “Come home with me.”
Sang Ye blinked. “…………”
Near the dormitory building, a streetlamp was broken.
The moment Tan Mo stepped past the boundary between light and shadow, he suddenly pressed Sang Ye backward against the nearby parcel locker.
Sang Ye, trapped beneath Tan Mo’s towering silhouette, felt his heartbeat speed up. He glanced up but was immediately overwhelmed by Tan Mo’s burning gaze, even more intense in the darkness. Panicking, he lowered his eyes.
He started missing Xiao Pai.
“Thanks, but no need, I—”
Tan Mo interrupted, “You can sleep at my place, stream at my place—it’s better than staying here. So why not?”
Sang Ye’s face burned red. He turned his head aside, stubbornly whispering, “It’s really fine…”
Tan Mo’s eyes darkened as he gazed at the curve of Sang Ye’s slender, fair neck. His voice softened:
“I won’t do anything. I’m just inviting a teammate who can’t go home to stay at my place for a few days. My family won’t suspect anything. And on the fourth, I’ll personally take you to the airport. Is that okay?”
The heat of Tan Mo’s breath neared Sang Ye’s ear, carrying a hint of coaxing that made his heart pound even harder. Unable to refuse any longer, Sang Ye finally nodded.
“O-okay… Just don’t lean on me…”
Sang Ye felt Tan Mo loosen his grip slightly and immediately slipped away to the open space nearby. Letting out a deep breath, he covered his face with both hands, flustered, and stammered:
“Thanks for the meal. I’m heading back now.”
Without waiting for Tan Mo’s response, he turned and ran off. As he rushed up the stairs, he stumbled and nearly fell, scrambling back up in a panic.
Tan Mo watched his retreating figure with a slightly helpless expression. Once Sang Ye was gone, he pulled out his phone and made a call.
Before long—
Tan Mo stood beside the shrubbery, one hand in his pocket, head lowered as he spoke into the phone:
“Dad, I’m bringing someone home tomorrow…”