Chapter 10 – Sang Ye
The match was scheduled to start at 3 p.m., and Sang Ye arrived half an hour early at the esports stadium in the Minhang Cultural and Creative Center.
Standing at the VIP entrance for a security check, he noticed that there weren’t many people using this passage. Occasionally, a few familiar faces from professional players or platform streamers would walk by.
Although he knew he was just a barely-known small-time streamer, with the related trending topics long gone, Sang Ye still pulled up the oversized hood attached to his jacket, covering his striking white hair. He kept his head down, pretending to be busy on his phone.
Since the duo queue incident, Sang Ye hadn’t gone online and had skipped a week of streaming.
On the first day of his absence, fake fans had grinned wickedly, sharpening their knives, eager to unleash a wave of mockery during his next stream.
But after a week of his disappearance, they realized Sang Ye was pretending to be dead. Instead of mocking him, they lamented his absence, rolling on the floor in despair on Weibo, begging for his return.
Sang Ye opened the comments section—
[Please, start streaming again! We promise not to mention that TAT but can we talk about arranging that cross-dressing thing?]
‘You guys are so annoying!’
He promptly logged out of his Weibo account and switched to Bilibili.
Just as he was about to scroll through aimlessly, the homepage refreshed, and the first video title that popped up was—
[Do You Know My Husband?]
“…”
Sang Ye felt utterly uncomfortable.
It was a mashup video where fans had taken his original voice from a livestream and turned it into a meme. He’d become so infamous that he now had his own entry in the meme lexicon—
[“Do You Know My Husband?”
Origin: From a conversation between PUBG streamer Song and his idol Talk during their first duo queue together.
Talk: Do you know Tan Mo?
Song: Of course, he’s my husband.
And that was it. For the next half hour, he completely failed to recognize who his teammate was.
This meme refers to the behavior of “plastic wife fans,” which can also be used to tease someone whose words don’t match their actions.]
Over the past week, this meme has taken over the gaming community. Any casual scroll would reveal countless related videos.
‘Sigh, Bilibili is a lost cause now.’
With an expressionless face, Sang Ye exited the app.
At that moment—
“Sir, you can enter now. Please have your ID ready.”
Sang Ye took back the ID handed to him by security and held it together with his ticket for the time being.
There was still some distance to the inner arena. Following the signs posted on the walls, Sang Ye turned left, only to hear voices from the hallway ahead:
“…That new team member just walked right past me. I even reached out my hand, and he didn’t even look at me. Am I, Xiao Pai, not worthy?”
Sang Ye immediately turned around, but in his haste, his ID slipped from his hand and fell near the door.
Xiao Pai, Hu Fu, and Shine all turned toward the sound but didn’t notice anything unusual.
Leaning against the door, Sang Ye knocked the back of his head against the wall in frustration. He hadn’t expected members of WLG to show up here.
Instinctively, he had tried to hide.
But after hiding, he remembered that no one in WLG even knew him. What was there to be afraid of?
Sang Ye pressed his lips together in frustration at himself and continued walking forward.
“There’s no need to get worked up!” Hu Fu slung his arm over Xiao Pai’s shoulder. “Maybe that’s just his personality. These kids born after 2000… Just look at Tan Shen’s ‘wife fans’—such unique personalities.”
“You mean that white-haired streamer?” Xiao Pai sighed. “Compared to the new team member, the white-haired guy is a total sweetheart.”
Sang Ye: “…”
Convinced they were talking about him, he silently retracted his step.
Shine asked, “If the new team member gets recruited, which team will he join…?”
“Alright, alright,” Hu Fu interrupted. “Let’s not talk about this out here. Let’s head inside…”
The voices of the three slowly faded.
Sang Ye remained at the corner, head drooping, hands behind his back, gently nudging the polished floor with his toes.
All he could think about now were the words “Tan Shen’s wife fan” echoing in his mind.
The “wife fan” label was a complete misunderstanding. He had never acknowledged it, so how did it spread within WLG?
And when Talk said “stealing my wife fan” during the last livestream, was he really referring to him?
‘Does Talk actually remember me?’
The thought made Sang Ye’s face flush. Spotting his fallen ID nearby, he bent down to retrieve it.
At that moment, the double sliding doors marked [Staff Only] ahead of him opened, and two men stepped out.
The man on the left was tall and well-built, wearing a suit that accentuated his slender, elegant frame. He walked with his head down, flipping through some papers in his hand.
Sang Ye’s mind buzzed as he suddenly straightened up. His toes twisted backward before he quickly spun to the left, his shoes squeaking loudly against the tiled floor.
He didn’t know where to hide.
The man must have heard the noise, as he raised his head.
Sang Ye froze, panic overwhelming him. He quickly did a 180-degree turn, almost hitting his nose against the wall, and stood still.
“Not letting us use memes during commentary? And fining us if we do? Is the assistant director trying to be funny?” Commentator Xia Huang complained as he walked by, shaking his head. “Sure, some memes can spark controversy, but most commentators know how to handle it. There’s no need for such strict rules, right?”
Tan Mo hummed in response, his gaze fixed on the person facing the wall ahead of them.
It was a guy—slender, with a backpack, wearing streetwear that hung a bit loosely on his frame. Creamy white hair peeked out from the edge of his oversized hood. Though most of his face was obscured, Tan Mo could see a straight, delicate nose, and the smooth, refined lines from his nose down to his jaw, with lips slightly parted in a pale pink.
Tan Mo’s pace slowed for a moment.
Pressed up against the wall, Sang Ye felt his whole body heat up. He could hear the steady footsteps drawing closer, his heartbeat so loud he thought it might knock him out.
Then, the man passed him, walking steadily by.
Sang Ye’s mind blanked for a second as he stared at the pale wall in front of him. He felt a slight, odd flutter in his chest.
A fleeting sense of emptiness.
“Is this yours?”
Suddenly, a deep voice sounded from beside him, smooth and magnetic, no longer rough from a cold. It sounded even lower.
Sang Ye’s brain went completely blank.
He might have stood there, frozen, for a full five seconds.
He turned slightly, paused, then turned a little more, dragging it out until he finally peeled himself away from the wall.
With his head down, half of his face was hidden by his hood, but his flushed, delicate cheeks were visible. Sang Ye’s long eyelashes lowered as he looked at the hand extended toward him. It held his ID card, and on the back of the man’s hand, at the base of the middle finger, was a small mole. His pale, slender fingers were perfectly placed over Sang Ye’s awkward ID photo.
Sang Ye reached out to take it, and as his fingertips brushed the man’s, he felt a jolt straight to his heart.
“Thanks…”
The moment he spoke, his voice cracked and seemed to fall flat.
He quickly pressed his lips together.
A barely noticeable smile flashed in Tan Mo’s eyes. “You’re welcome, make sure you keep it safe.”
With that, Tan Mo continued walking, leaving behind a faint breeze, carrying a scent that was damp, cold, and as clean as the deep sea.
Sang Ye, who hadn’t dared to look up, finally glanced after him, watching his retreating back.
Talk didn’t recognize him.
Of course not.
Talk didn’t watch his streams, so he wouldn’t know his face.
He had no reason to remember him.
He was just another nobody.
With a mix of three parts disappointment and seven parts giddy happiness, Sang Ye looked back at his ID card.
It seemed to carry a trace of the man’s pleasant scent.
Sang Ye clutched the ID in both hands, brought it to his nose, and cautiously took a sniff.
He paused for a moment, then a smile curved his lips.
Feeling it wasn’t enough, he pressed his nose to the card and took a deep, exaggerated sniff, then raised his head—
And locked eyes with a dark-haired boy standing near the employee entrance ahead.
“…”
“…”
The boy’s cold, sharp gaze didn’t waver, watching Sang Ye’s obsessive behavior with no attempt to hide it.
Sang Ye held himself together, refusing to crack. Lowering the ID, he shot the boy a haughty look before turning with a cold indifference and disappearing around the corner.
In the empty hallway, with no one around, Sang Ye took a couple of calm steps before abruptly speeding up and breaking into a run.
E Lan remained standing where he was. Though he couldn’t see Sang Ye anymore, he could hear the sudden quickening of footsteps and the sound of the backpack bouncing behind him. The hurried, fragmented rhythm was like a rabbit scurrying away in panic.
E Lan cast a brief, indifferent glance at the nearby wall, then turned his gaze away.
…
Tan Mo entered the broadcasting studio, and the noise immediately faded, blocked out by the soundproofed room. As he sat down at the commentator’s desk, the staff approached to go over the opening routine with him once again.
“By the way, Mr. Tan,” a staff member mentioned, “there will be a little interaction after the match. Since many of the audience came specifically for you, the director plans to select a lucky fan from the crowd through the camera to win a team jersey with your name embroidered on it. This was arranged with Manager Yu.”
“Won’t that cause a fight among the fans?” Xia Huang remarked. “Although, knowing our director, who’s notoriously biased toward good-looking people, the camera will only focus on the most attractive guys and girls. So, that narrows it down.”
Tan Mo paused while flipping through his notes, recalling an ID card he had seen earlier.
The ID photo showed someone with black hair, a pale, youthful face, and delicate, refined features. The person stared at the camera with wide, dark eyes, looking obedient and cute.
So, his name is Sang Ye.
In ancient Chinese texts, Jilin refers to forests, and Sang Ye to vast plains1.
—The farthest place in the East2.
“I just saw Nuo Nuo backstage. With the director’s taste, I bet the camera will zoom in on her face, and the jersey will probably go to her,” Xia Huang said. “Right, Tan Shen? Don’t you think so?”
Tan Mo’s long eyelashes fluttered indifferently. “Not necessarily.”
“Hmm?” Xia Huang’s curiosity was piqued. “Wanna make a bet?”
“No need to bet.” Tan Mo closed his script and calmly stated, “One of my ‘wife fans’ is here.”
…
After entering the venue, Sang Ye kept his head down, comparing his ticket to find his seat in the third row. The lighting around him was dim. He was about to pull off the hood covering his head but paused, then let his hand drop.
Xiao Pai had been secretly observing him, occasionally glancing at the person who had just sat down nearby. However, the brim of the hood was too wide to see the person’s face clearly.
At that moment, three more people entered, chatting and laughing as they found their seats. When one of them turned around and noticed Xiao Pai sitting just one seat away, they abruptly fell silent.
Xiao Pai and his group also noticed them, and the atmosphere instantly became a bit awkward.
The newcomers were none other than the NSN team members.
The two teams were long-time rivals.
Six professional players sat in a row, with a hooded stranger between them. No one initiated conversation, and neither side was offering a friendly expression.
Except for Shine, who appeared slightly out of place, showing a bit of nervousness.
After settling into his seat, Lulu grew more irritated the more he thought about it. He sneered, “Some teams, their spring season games were so bad, you could eat while watching. They’re nearly down to the second-tier but still can’t shake off that elite attitude.”
Xiao Pai suddenly stood up, but Hu Fu quickly pulled him back down.
A teammate tugged on Lulu’s sleeve, urgently signaling with his eyes, “Stop talking…”
“What’s there to stop talking about?” Lulu yanked his arm free, playing dumb. “Their team’s star player has been reduced to a commentator, and the whole team’s strength doesn’t even match up to one ‘wife fan,’ so what are you scared of?”
Xiao Pai clenched his fists tightly, his whole body beginning to tremble.
Meanwhile, a teammate felt a sudden sense of dread and hurriedly looked toward the front rows.
There, several of the invited streamers, present just for show, were seated.
Lulu realized something and also scanned the front row, but after looking around, he didn’t spot anyone with white hair.
His expression relaxed, and he turned to criticize his teammate. “Why are you so nervous? I was just saying it casually. I’m not even afraid of Talk, why would I be scared of one of his ‘wife fans’? Even if ten of them showed up today, I wouldn’t back down!”
“There aren’t ten. Just one.”
A slightly hoarse, youthful voice suddenly rang out, causing everyone in the row to freeze, and they all turned in unison to look at the person seated in the middle, who had been ignored until now.
That person tilted their face, pale fingers pulling down the oversized black hood, revealing a cascade of striking, dazzling white hair.
Just at that moment, a spotlight hit their brow, illuminating a stunningly beautiful yet world-weary expression.
Lulu met the person’s gaze and shuddered involuntarily.
Sang Ye stared directly at him, raising a cold eyebrow, “I heard you were looking for me?”
Author’s note:
“The far east is called Jilin, and also called Sang Ye.” — Huainanzi, The Shape of the Earth
Note :
- The passage “曰棘林，曰桑野” uses poetic language to describe the name “Sang Ye” (桑野) and its possible meanings. Here’s a breakdown:
曰棘林: “Jilin” (棘林) refers to thorny forests, symbolizing something difficult, remote, or challenging.
曰桑野: “Sang Ye” (桑野) refers to vast plains or fields, symbolizing openness, expansiveness, or a simpler, more rural environment. ↩︎ - The phrase “——东方极远之地” (“—The farthest place in the East”) adds to this imagery, suggesting that “Sang Ye” evokes a distant, perhaps unreachable place in the East, either metaphorically or geographically. It’s a poetic way of saying that “Sang Ye” comes from a faraway or metaphorically distant place, adding a sense of mystique or depth to the character’s name. ↩︎
Sang Ye quoting Lil Wayne in the last line of this chapter had me SCREAMING. “I heard you were looking for me?” Go off, Mr. Carter.