Chapter 25 – Sneak Attack Fiend
The base had two villas serving as dormitories for the players, and Sang Ye was assigned to the third floor of Building A.
The villa was equipped with an elevator. Just as Sang Ye rolled up his sleeves, ready to move his luggage, he bumped into Xiao Pai and Hu Fu, who had just returned.
When Xiao Pai saw him, all he could think about was Sang Ye’s withdrawn expression from earlier, his face a mix of emotions. “Let me help you.”
Sang Ye replied, “I have a lot of stuff.”
“No worries,” Xiao Pai flexed his arm and said casually, “You can’t tell under this jacket, but I used to hit the gym.”
“Right,” Hu Fu chuckled, “You bought a two-year membership, never went once, and spent the last month going every day just to take a shower.”
“Get out of here!” Xiao Pai slapped Hu Fu’s arm. “Your brother Pai is strong without even lifting!”
However, after Xiao Pai pushed all eight large boxes of clothes out of the elevator, he could barely straighten his back.
“Why do you have so many clothes?” Xiao Pai groaned, his back aching, as he complained like an old man. “Even girls don’t have this much!”
Sang Ye, too lazy to scold him after his help, tossed each of them a bottle of energy drink.
Hu Fu smiled and declined politely, “I’m on a diet, can’t drink this.”
Sang Ye swiftly replaced it with a bottle of Evian.
“D*mn, even your mineral water is Evian in glass bottles, over 20 yuan a pop… Are you a rich second generation?” Xiao Pai asked as he cracked open the drink. “What do your parents do?”
Sang Ye kicked the boxes into his room one by one. “My mom doesn’t work.”
Hu Fu leaned against the wall, twisting open his bottle cap. “What about your dad?”
Sang Ye’s expression remained unchanged. “He works in coal mining.”
Xiao Pai paused for a second, and the bubbles in his drink suddenly lost their flavor. “Coal mining? Where are you from?”
“Shanxi,” Sang Ye replied, “A small county near Datong.”
“Nice place, but really far…” Xiao Pai said, gripping his can a bit tighter. “When did you come to Shanghai?”
Sang Ye thought for a moment. “Before I turned 18.”
Xiao Pai and Hu Fu exchanged glances, suddenly finding it hard to keep drinking their water.
They had already painted a basic picture of Sang Ye’s background—his mother working hard at home, his father toiling away in the coal mines, and the young boy, at just fifteen or sixteen, packing up his bags and coming to the big city to find work. Judging by his hair, he probably worked at a barbershop at some point, clawed his way through odd jobs, took orders for playing games, and honed his skills until he finally entered the streaming industry. Only then did life start looking up for him.
In the end, the water, the drinks, and all these possessions scattered on the floor were all earned bit by bit through Sang Ye’s own hard work. Yet, despite all the hardship, the boy still carried an air of nobility and grace, as if blessed by fortune.
Feeling a little guilty, Hu Fu offered, “If there’s anything you want to eat or any places you want to visit here, just let me know. I’ll take you.”
Sang Ye responded with a cold, indifferent “Oh.”
“Stop kicking the boxes; you’re getting them dirty.” Xiao Pai, no longer complaining about being tired, took a few steps forward. “I’ll help you move them.”
“No need,” Sang Ye said coolly, “That box contains clothes my mom bought at the 2021 Milan Fashion Week. They’re out of season now, so I’m sending them back. The housekeeper will take care of it.”
Xiao Pai froze, sensing something was off, and pointed to another box. “What about this one?”
Sang Ye glanced at it. “My aunt got it at Cheongdam-dong earlier this year, just in case I got cold coming down south.”
Xiao Pai’s mouth twitched. “…”
Milan Fashion Week and Cheongdam-dong in Korea, no less.
Hu Fu tilted his head back and gulped down half his bottle of expensive water, letting out a long “Ha~” as he savored the unmistakable taste of the wealth gap.
“Now I get why they call you ‘Rich Kid.’”
“And your dad isn’t just a coal miner.” Xiao Pai, trying to force a smile, corrected him, “He’s what they call a ‘coal boss.’”
…
The next day, Sang Ye was eating fresh meat wontons in the cafeteria when Yu Haotian spotted him. “Song, just the person I was looking for.”
As he spoke, he handed over a paper bag.
Sang Ye, puzzled, opened it and looked inside.
It was WLG’s team uniform.
“Go ahead and change into this,” Yu Haotian said. “When you’re training at the base, you need to wear the team uniform.”
Sang Ye frowned and looked up. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” Yu Haotian was baffled. “It’s in the rules. Everyone does it.”
Sang Ye glanced around.
Sure enough, everyone in sight was wearing the team uniform.
But Sang Ye wasn’t convinced.
It’s just regular training, not an actual competition.
He stiffened his neck. “I saw Talk wasn’t wearing one yesterday.”
“Yesterday was the weekend,” Yu Haotian said with a helpless laugh. “Look at Hu Fu and Xiao Pai. Those two practically live in their uniforms. It’s like they’re welded onto them. Might as well be permanent skins at this point.”
“What do you mean, just one set?” Xiao Pai shouted from a table away. “I’ve got four uniforms! I wash and rotate them regularly!”
Hu Fu laughed so hard that the tofu in his spoon shook. “Yeah, right. Four uniforms, one per month, wearing each for a whole week.”
“Get out!” Xiao Pai spat back, making a gesture like he was casting out evil spirits.
But Sang Ye still couldn’t accept it. He glanced around again, only to feel that the uniforms lacked any individuality. Everyone who wore one looked sloppy and uninspired, like they were draped in a rag.
He… he was sitting next to Talk every day now. He needed to look presentable.
He even felt that the seven or eight boxes of clothes he had weren’t enough, and now he was being limited to just one set.
The little fashionista1 furrowed his brows stubbornly. “I won’t…”
At that moment, someone stepped through the cafeteria door.
A tall man with long legs walked in. Even though the team uniform hung loosely on him, he still managed to make it look stylish. One sleeve was rolled up, revealing a pale, slender wrist. The uniform’s white base with orange-red accents made him appear fresh and clean.
At that moment, the team uniform became the best-looking outfit in the world.
With a slight sigh, Sang Ye loosened the tension in his back, holding the paper bag in front of him as the stubborn defiance he had been holding onto quickly softened.
“I’ll change into it right after I finish eating,” he said.
“Oh?” Yu Haotian smiled. “You finally came around?”
Just then, Tan Mo approached the table.
Yu Haotian, who had been facing the other way, now saw him and, after a brief glance, came to a realization: “I knew it! Now I understand why you suddenly changed your mind… You should wear that uniform out on the street too; the merch sales would skyrocket!”
Tan Mo stopped beside the table, noting Sang Ye’s evasive gaze, and instantly understood that the boy still didn’t see him as just another person.
“What’s going on?” Tan Mo asked Yu Haotian.
Yu Haotian sighed heavily, as if worn down by the weight of responsibility: “This little guy isn’t happy about wearing the team uniform.”
“No!” Sang Ye retorted too quickly, stumbling over his words, and then immediately ducked his head in embarrassment.
Tan Mo glanced at Sang Ye, noticing the boy was dressed in a dark, sleek jacket with a stiff, structured fit. There was a detailed emblem on his chest, and underneath, a crisp white shirt collar peeked out, each collar tip adorned with a teardrop-shaped crystal.
Every detail of the outfit was meticulous, giving off a neat and scholarly vibe.
With just one glance, Tan Mo’s expression remained unchanged as he withdrew his gaze. As he passed by, he reached out and ruffled Sang Ye’s white hair, casually commenting, “You look great today.”
The sound of clattering dishes suddenly filled the cafeteria, as if everyone was now eating with extra force. The occasional cough could be heard, as some choked in their rush to eat.
The room was full of shocked faces.
In the corner, Gale and Blades watched as Sang Ye’s face turned as red as a fresh strawberry. Suddenly, they both felt a bit off.
They just realized that a flushed face wasn’t always from being scolded.
Sometimes, it could be from a gentle head pat—feeling nice and cozy.
…
After finishing lunch, Xiao Pai cheerfully bounced back to the practice room, humming “la la la la la” as he pushed open the door, only to find Shine packing things into a cardboard box.
The two froze on the spot.
Since Tan Mo had moved out, E Lan had taken his seat. At that moment, E Lan was wearing headphones, immersed in a ranked game, radiating an aura of indifference and complete disregard for what was happening around him.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the rapid clacking of keyboard keys.
After the initial shock wore off, Xiao Pai’s face darkened. He walked into the room and punched Shine with a firm fist:
“You b*stard! Either you don’t come back at all, or you sneak in like a thief. Where the hell have you been? Huh? Where?”
Shine didn’t fight back, even though his eyes reddened slightly. What he feared most was the cold faces of his teammates. Xiao Pai’s reaction, oddly enough, put him at ease—it was a form of acceptance.
“I thought you didn’t want your stuff anymore!” Xiao Pai, after throwing a few more punches, scrunched up his face and suddenly burst into tears, wailing uncontrollably. “You didn’t even reply to my messages! Not even a proper goodbye! After everything we’ve been through, you just toss it away like nothing. Xia Zhiyan, do you even have a heart?!”
“Alright, alright…” Shine, feeling a bit awkward, kept glancing at the new team members nearby. Luckily, they were completely focused on their own tasks and paid no attention to the commotion.
Not long after, Yu Haotian arrived. Seeing Shine, he sighed and said, “Don’t rush off just yet. You should at least see the coach and captain before leaving, right?”
…
The morning was designated for individual practice. From time to time, Sang Ye glanced toward the door, but the person he was waiting for never showed up.
Ji Feng asked, “Are you waiting for Tan Shen?”
In an instant, Sang Ye’s gaze darted back to his screen, wearing an aloof expression, and he said nothing.
“Oh, right, you’re probably not in the group chat,” Ji Feng remembered and said, “Shine came back this morning.”
Sang Ye blinked.
So that was what was going on.
He knew about Shine’s transfer but couldn’t quite understand why Shine had made that decision.
WLG had provided Shine with the best resources, and the team dynamics were stable. So why jump ship to NSN now?
Was it just because of a failed Spring Tournament?
If that was the reason, it felt a bit too heartless and opportunistic.
But regardless, Shine’s departure had nothing to do with Sang Ye and didn’t affect him at all.
Sang Ye stopped thinking about it and focused on his practice.
Around noon, Sang Ye logged out of the game and rubbed his reddened fingertips, muttering to himself that playing professionally was indeed tough.
Practicing all morning wasn’t even the end of it; there would be high-intensity scrimmages in the afternoon as well. At this rate, he felt like his fingers might soon develop calluses.
It was only his second day on the team, and already, young master Sang was feeling a bit sorry for himself.
He picked up his cup to get some water but, unsure of when the water dispenser had last been refilled, decided to go find the hot water room instead.
After wandering around the second floor and not finding it, he went upstairs to continue his search.
He had heard that the floors above were where the trainee players stayed, but the program hadn’t started yet.
Sang Ye walked down the quiet third-floor corridor, and as he neared the restroom at the end of the hallway, he suddenly heard a muffled sob coming from the balcony.
He stopped and didn’t move forward. After a moment, he recognized Shine’s voice, saying:
“I don’t want to leave… but I saw it…”
Sang Ye was confused.
Through the glass, the voices outside were faint and unclear.
“…Before the qualifiers, you were sitting alone in the practice room. You just… froze. I saw it from the door, but I didn’t dare go in. I didn’t know what was wrong with you. Then, the day before the Spring Tournament, you were suddenly replaced… I should have stayed; maybe you needed me, but…”
After a long pause, a low, calm voice responded:
“I never asked anyone to do anything for me. It’s me who let you down. You’re an excellent player—keep working hard. Hopefully, the future won’t disappoint you.”
“Captain, I’m sorry, I… I just… I just feel like…” Shine’s voice cracked again. “Without Talk, the temple has crumbled. I can’t hold up this ruin on my own…”
Sang Ye stood frozen in the middle of the hallway, with the light from the balcony creeping in and casting jagged shadows around his figure.
Replaced the day before the Spring Tournament, and not starting in the Summer Tournament either…
What happened to Talk?
Sang Ye’s mind wandered as he spaced out until someone called his name: “Song.”
“Huh?” Sang Ye looked up.
Tan Mo placed a takeout bag on his desk. “I heard you didn’t eat lunch?”
“Huh? Oh…” Sang Ye’s face flushed a little, and he rested his hands on the still-warm container, feeling warmth spread through his heart.
His idol personally brought him food…
The young boy had already changed into his team uniform. Even though he was dressed like everyone else, his clean, fair appearance still made him stand out.
Tan Mo pulled out a chair and sat down, his voice calm. “Didn’t like the food in the cafeteria?”
“No, that’s not it…” Sang Ye unwrapped the takeout bag, realizing it was foie gras and salmon rice—definitely not from the cafeteria. His face grew even warmer as he lowered his head, explaining, “I just forgot… It won’t happen again.”
Tan Mo didn’t delay him further and booted up his computer. “Eat first.”
When Sang Ye took his first bite of the foie gras, he suddenly realized how hungry he was. Any sense of decorum flew out the window as he dug in, his face practically buried in the bowl.
The foie gras was rich and savory, perfectly paired with the grilled salmon’s smoky flavor. It was tender without being greasy, and the soft rice complemented it all, making each bite feel like a treat for his taste buds.
Halfway through his meal, Sang Ye slowed down, realizing that aside from him and Talk, the practice room was empty. He couldn’t help but recall what Shine had said earlier in the morning:
“I should have stayed; maybe you needed me…”
“If there’s no Talk, the temple will crumble…”
What had happened to Talk?
Gathering his courage, Sang Ye tried to ask about the question weighing on his mind. “Talk…”
Tan Mo turned his head to look at him.
The young boy took a deep breath, opened his mouth, but after two seconds, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
Tan Mo asked, “What’s wrong?”
Sang Ye picked a grain of rice from the corner of his mouth and popped it into his mouth. Staring at his bowl, he murmured softly, “I actually came here to chase after my idol…”
“…”
Tan Mo was suddenly at a loss for words.
He had thought that while Sang Ye admired and liked him, joining a professional team also meant that Sang Ye had some ambition to reach the top. He never expected that…
Leaning back in his chair, Tan Mo raised a hand to rub his forehead, feeling both amused and a little disappointed.
Sang Ye’s attitude was a bit of a problem for the club. After all, he was one of their most promising players, someone they were planning to heavily invest in and develop. But since Sang Ye had opened up about it, Tan Mo figured there was no need to put so much pressure on him anymore. After all, Sang Ye’s heart wasn’t truly in this career.
Still…
“The fact that you can be this honest… Thank you.”
Sang Ye nodded, having thought things through carefully. Whether it was dreaming of joining the main team or imagining himself in Shine’s position, his goal had always been one thing—Talk.
Sang Ye stirred the rice in his bowl and, with his head lowered, continued, “But I can do more than that.”
Tan Mo paused, unsure what he meant, and turned to look at him. “Hmm?”
Sang Ye thought again of what Talk had said—”I’ve never asked anyone to do anything for me…”
Even so…
“If… if I say from now on, the past doesn’t count… If you want me to hold a position, I can hold it down tightly. If you want me to capture a point, I will get it 100%. If you need me to give my all in an online match, I can do it without reservation. Even if you want me to win a championship in the future, I think I can do that too.”
Tan Mo’s eyes flickered. Sang Ye didn’t say it directly, but Tan Mo could hear the deep sincerity in his words—
As if to say, “Just give me the word, and I will conquer anything for you.”
In that instant, a surge of warmth rushed into Tan Mo’s heart. Perhaps it had been cold and empty there for too long, and the sudden flood of emotion brought a slight, bittersweet ache.
Tan Mo’s fingers curled slightly as if trying to escape. “I…”
At that moment, Sang Ye turned his head, his gaze meeting Tan Mo’s head-on. “So it’s settled then. I won’t get distracted during training matches anymore, okay?”
The young boy’s eyes were clear and intense, leaving Tan Mo feeling exposed, like any sign of weakness would be shameful under such a piercing, radiant light.
After a long pause, Tan Mo softly responded with an “Mm.”
Sang Ye didn’t speak, continuing to stare at him with his bright, unwavering eyes, as if trying to capture him, pulling him into a sea of stars to drown.
So straightforward, almost aggressive.
As time dragged on, Tan Mo’s heart began to race. For the first time, he felt a flush creeping into his ears and instinctively tried to look away.
Just then—
Sang Ye visibly relaxed, turning back to the table. He glanced at his phone and, with a pout, mumbled in disappointment, “15 seconds…”
“……”
Tan Mo stiffened immediately, the color on his face shifting rapidly.
It felt as if, in the midst of a high fever, someone had doused him with a bucket of ice water, leaving him utterly embarrassed and frustrated.
D*mn!
Tan Mo clenched his palm in frustration, stood up abruptly, and left, muttering, “Going to the bathroom.”
Sang Ye, oblivious, responded cheerfully, “Oh, okay.”
…
Right before the training match started, Ji Feng and Jin Cao rushed into the practice room, afraid of being scolded by Tan Mo.
But instead of seeing the boss, they spotted Sang Ye digging into his meal.
“What are you eating? It smells amazing!” Ji Feng peered over the divider to look at the table across from him and caught a glimpse of the logo on the food container. “Fish Delights? Man, you’re living large! That meal costs 168 yuan, and you still down it like nothing!”
“Is it any of your business?” Sang Ye snapped, raising the plastic bag to block the view of his food.
Talk had bought the meal for him, and he was annoyed at anyone looking too closely at it.
“Why are you still eating?” Jin Cao teased, “There are only eight minutes left… oh wait, seven minutes until the match starts. Do you have enough time to boot up, log in, and check the settings?”
Sang Ye clicked his tongue. “Mind your own business.”
Everyone knew about the temper of this fanboy.
Ji Feng and Jin Cao exchanged amused looks. They’d given him fair warning, but if Tan Mo came in and saw someone still eating, given his strict nature, he’d probably chew them out.
Sang Ye thought for a moment, realizing there might be trouble, so he sped up his eating.
Just then, Tan Mo entered the room, his bangs slightly damp, and his face showing signs of having just washed up.
Ji Feng and Jin Cao greeted Tan Mo and then shot pointed glances toward Sang Ye, signaling their captain to scold him.
But Tan Mo sat down at his desk with a calm expression, clicking his mouse without saying another word.
Ji Feng and Jin Cao exchanged confused looks.
This wasn’t what they had expected at all.
Suddenly, a low, magnetic voice came from behind the divider. “Eat slower.”
Sang Ye: “… Huh?”
Tan Mo casually explained, “A few teams don’t get up on time in the morning, so they usually start a few minutes late. By the time everyone’s ready, and the match actually begins, you’ve got at least fifteen minutes. You’re fine.”
“Oh, okay,” Sang Ye responded.
Ji Feng and Jin Cao clutched their heads, completely baffled but utterly shocked.
WHAAAAT???!!!
This double standard couldn’t be more obvious!
…
When Sang Ye joined the team, it was just the beginning of May, right after the start of summer.
There’s a saying, “When summer begins with thunder, expect rain for three days.” The weather became humid and stuffy, and often in the late afternoon, thunder would rumble unexpectedly.
Tan Chunshan, a big coward, would come running to the second team’s practice room whimpering whenever it thundered.
Most of the time, Tan Mo wasn’t around, so Tan Chunshan would dive straight into Sang Ye’s arms, seeking comfort, petting, and licking him until his face was covered in drool.
Maybe because it was a dog, it had no shame in doing whatever it wanted.
At first, Sang Ye was genuinely annoyed by the Golden Retriever, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that it was Tan Mo’s beloved pet, he would’ve thrown it out long ago.
But after a couple of days, he became more adept at petting the dog.
A few more days later, Sang Ye was secretly hiding under the desk, sharing a yogurt drink with Tan Chunshan—since Tan Mo strictly controlled the dog’s diet, it was a forbidden indulgence.
Once Sang Ye adjusted his mindset, his progress in training skyrocketed. At the very least, he stopped making basic mistakes.
Some of the issues he had were due to a lack of experience in competitions. During reviews, the coach would pull him aside to emphasize certain points, and Sang Ye would diligently practice more.
After a week of this cycle, Sang Ye’s rough, freewheeling style from his days as a streamer had toned down significantly, and his gameplay had become much more refined.
The online public tournament was approaching, and the match roster was released the night before.
With a prize pool of 1.2 million yuan, it was lavish—setting the bar for self-organized events. As a result, all major clubs sent their first teams to participate, including TES and NSN, provided they didn’t have other commitments.
Initially, the coach was going to send the first team to take part, but considering Sang Ye’s trial period, he decided to give the opportunity to the second team instead.
After the review session that evening, the coach pulled Sang Ye aside and asked, “Nervous?”
Sang Ye shook his head. “I’m not nervous.”
“Why not?”
“Because Talk is here.”
“Ahem… Talk can definitely give you a hand, but don’t let him overshadow you. Otherwise, it’s all for nothing.”
“All for nothing?”
“…Nothing.” The coach wiped some imaginary sweat from his brow and said, “The lineup for this tournament is comparable to the Spring Split. It’s actually unfair for a rookie like you. Do you know why we’re still sending you in?”
Sang Ye nodded. “I know.”
“Why?”
“You want me to be the captain of the second team, then go as a substitute for the Summer Split.”
“Ahem… nonsense!”
“You just said it’d be for nothing.”
“I—”
The coach realized some troublemakers are just infuriating. His head started buzzing with frustration.
“Alright, go on then.”
Sang Ye’s mental fortitude was exceptional, he didn’t need any pre-match pep talks.
Sang Ye said goodbye and headed to the door, but the coach stopped him.
“Top three,” the coach held up three fingers. “With an ACE like Talk, the team has to place in the top three. If you make the top three, it won’t necessarily be thanks to you, but at least you’ll have your first achievement. If you don’t make it, it won’t be your fault, but you won’t be able to convince even Ji Feng and Jin Cao, let alone anyone else.”
—Not to mention there’s an even stronger undercurrent at play.
Sang Ye understood everything and turned back. “If I become a substitute for the Summer Split, will you give me a chance to play?”
The coach slammed the table in frustration. “Sang Ye, you better focus on what’s right in front of you first!”
…
After taking a shower, Sang Ye decided to head to the vending machine near the cafeteria to buy a pack of yogurt.
He walked into the elevator with his hands in his pockets.
The elevator reached the first floor, and when the doors opened, Tan Mo was standing there.
Sang Ye stood at attention, quickly pulling his hands out of his pockets.
Tan Mo stepped in. “Not getting off?”
Sang Ye licked his lips, fidgeting with his hands. “Forgot my access card, going up to grab it.”
Tan Mo stood beside Sang Ye and glanced at him. “You have a match tomorrow night, nervous?”
Sang Ye shook his head. “Not nervous.”
Tan Mo watched as the elevator numbers climbed to the second floor. “Why?” he asked.
“Because…” Sang Ye’s dark eyes sparkled. “I’m pretty good.”
Tan Mo raised an eyebrow. When the elevator doors opened, he reached out and ruffled Sang Ye’s hair before stepping out. “See you tomorrow.”
Suddenly, Sang Ye rushed to the elevator door and pressed the open button. “Talk!”
Tan Mo turned around. Under the dim hallway lights, his indifferent eyes still lacked any warmth. “Hmm?”
Sang Ye stood at the elevator entrance, his clear eyes fixed on him. For a long time, there was a flicker of hesitation, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
Tan Mo paused, took a step forward, and lowered his voice. “What’s wrong?”
Sang Ye’s pale cheeks slowly flushed. Fresh from a shower, his body gave off a sweet, damp fragrance.
That same restless heat stirred in Tan Mo’s chest again. He took a deep breath, trying to keep calm, but something finally sparked in his usually steady gaze.
He moved closer.
Sang Ye lowered his head, glancing at his phone, where a timer was displayed: “17 seconds.”
“…”
Tan Mo’s eyelid twitched.
This again?
Completely oblivious to the tension, Sang Ye let go of the elevator button and said, “See you tomorrow.”
But just as the elevator doors were about to close, a large hand shot in, grabbed Sang Ye by the arm, and yanked him out, pressing him against the nearby wall.
“…”
With Tan Mo’s handsome face just inches away, Sang Ye’s heart raced. His gaze darted around nervously. “Wh-what are you doing?”
Tan Mo held Sang Ye’s delicate chin in place and spoke softly, “Do it again.”
Sang Ye’s knees nearly gave way, his voice faint and weak, “But, but I already practiced today.”
“Extra training before the match.” Tan Mo’s voice had a faint edge to it, “Ambush… the enemy.”
“…”
Author’s Note:
Tan Mo: I wanted you to treat me like a person, but you treat me like a tool. (smiles)
Note :
- A fashionista is a person who is very interested in or passionate about fashion and clothing. ↩︎