Chapter 34 – Change Room
“Of course, of course!”
“If you’re afraid of the dark, I’ll be there.”
“If you’re afraid of thunder, I’ll be there.”
“As long as you need me, I’ll always be there.”
Sang Ye looked directly into those deep eyes in the darkness, his chest filled with a burning warmth.
He had once looked up to Tan Mo for being strong and calm, like a miracle, capable of anything. However, after coming to Tan Mo’s side, he accidentally caught a glimpse of a corner of that rainy night and realized that the man on the pedestal was so pale and fragile.
But Sang Ye was not disappointed; instead, he felt a tightness in his heart, almost wanting to hold the man in his palms and brush away all the frost and rain from him.
It was just… just that Tan Mo was hiding himself, unwilling to let him see.
So he wouldn’t look.
Until this moment, when Tan Mo’s words revealed an unusual meaning, Sang Ye felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest, with a multitude of feelings he wanted to express.
He opened his mouth, but just then, a beam of bright light fell between the two of them.
Sang Ye and Tan Mo instinctively released their hands and turned toward the light source.
“Ah?… Oh! It’s the rap teacher! I didn’t realize you were still here; they’re clearing the stage now.”
The staff member, backlit and unable to see their face, spoke sincerely.
“It will be open again in ten minutes. You can rest backstage, and the staff will remind you when it’s time.”
Tan Mo said something to the person before stepping down the stairs.
From the moment Sang Ye was caught, he felt a wave of guilt and embarrassment. By the time he and Tan Mo arrived in the brightly lit backstage corridor, he was even too shy to lift his head.
Darkness could hide his sense of shame, allowing courage to grow unnoticed. However, once that opaque curtain was pulled away, everything seemed to return to its original state.
—Except that their hands were still clasped together.
The warm, dry sensation transmitted through their fingers made Sang Ye feel electrified, a tingling sensation coursing through him. He lowered his eyes, too embarrassed to show it.
At that moment, Tan Mo gave his hand a light squeeze.
Sang Ye’s heart raced, as if receiving some sort of signal, and he looked up: “I…”
—“What are you two still doing here?”
Yu Haotian suddenly appeared at the end of the corridor.
The two of them instantly released their hands, creating a small distance between them.
Sang Ye’s mind went blank, and he didn’t dare to breathe, unable to say anything.
“Hurry up!” Yu Haotian, unaware of anything unusual, had one hand on his hip and waved his other hand at Sang Ye. “The coach is looking for you; everyone’s waiting for you!”
Sang Ye glanced at the man beside him.
Tan Mo had already regained his usual calm and indifferent demeanor. When he turned to look, there seemed to be a hint of teasing in his expression: “What’s meant to come won’t be avoided.”
Sang Ye discerned a trace of disappointment and regret from his tangled emotions. He collected himself and had no choice but to follow the team manager out.
As soon as Sang Ye entered the break room, the coach berated him harshly.
But this time, the boy didn’t adopt his usual defiant expression; instead, he rarely lowered his head and silently endured the scolding.
However, some people appeared honest on the surface while their thoughts had already drifted far away.
Tan Mo walked in.
Sang Ye’s gaze involuntarily flicked over.
The man sat down on a sofa in the corner, pulled out his phone, resting one hand on the armrest while the other scrolled through the screen, seemingly indifferent to everything around him.
Sang Ye lowered his long lashes, suddenly feeling a pang of regret. If he had been more decisive earlier, he could have conveyed his feelings to Tan Mo, but now he had missed the best opportunity for expression.
Although the feeling was subtle, Sang Ye knew he had already missed it.
He couldn’t help it; feeling resentful, he lifted his head again to take a look.
At that moment, Tan Mo leaned forward to pick up a cup from the table, simultaneously flipping the screen of his phone over and drinking water with his eyes downcast.
On the phone, a scrolling subtitle app was running, and across the full screen, a line of deep black text slid by—
[I know you’ll be there. Thank you, always.]
Something in Sang Ye’s heart surged with a sluggish pulse.
“Thump—!”
Sang Ye instantly withdrew his gaze and stopped breathing.
Everyone in the room was focused on the coach, who was red-faced and animated, waving his hands as all his heated words turned into a massive, indistinct background noise.
At that moment, Sang Ye thought back to the late nights when he climbed over the wall from the dormitory to go to an internet cafe, squinting through the swirling smoke to watch Tan Mo’s first intercontinental match live.
He recalled how, at the moment Tan Mo won the championship, he climbed onto Weibo Square, trembling with excitement as he edited a long message of congratulations, only to be soon drowned in a flood of comments.
He had sat in the dimly lit audience, just one among countless others, there through Tan Mo’s proudest, most glorious, and lowest moments.
But he never imagined that the person he had always watched would one day look back at him from the crowd.
Even if it was just a simple “thank you,” the feeling of being acknowledged was both heartwarming and a bit bittersweet—something he could never fully express or share with outsiders.
If one has never fervently and purely believed in someone, they would not understand him.
“Song? Song!” The coach called his name twice.
Sang Ye quickly blinked a couple of times, his voice low: “Here.”
“You…” The coach furrowed his brows, seemingly still unsatisfied, but was restrained by someone beside him.
Yu Haotian shot the coach a glance, signaling him to stop talking.
The boy’s face turned crimson, tears welling in the corners of his eyes from the coach’s words, yet he still managed to force a cautious smile that looked pitiful.
Noticing Sang Ye’s unusual reaction, the coach paused and couldn’t help but reflect if he had been too harsh. He changed his tone and asked, “Will you dare to be so reckless in the next two matches?”
Sang Ye lowered his head, looking uncharacteristically submissive: “I won’t.”
The coach’s anger instantly dissipated with a sigh: “In the match, maintain your pace and strictly follow the strategy. The training match is a preliminary test; it may seem unimportant, but it really is important. A team like FP won’t make it big; if they dare to harass you maliciously again, I and your manager will take action. Now, hurry up and adjust; get ready to go on stage.”
After everyone left, the coach took a dry sip of goji berry-infused water, muttering to himself: “What’s with that kid today? He’s so well-behaved. It’s different at the big competition; it’s quite unexpected…”
Three minutes later.
The coach was so frustrated that he leaned against the sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose.
At the start of the fourth match, Sang Ye, ignoring his surroundings, picked up a shotgun immediately after landing, broke through a window, and rushed into a building, instantly taking out XXY’s assault player.
The boy seemed to be on fire, charging ahead with a wild energy, as if saying, “I’m done playing around, I’m going straight to the top, shoulder to shoulder with the sun!” The whole of P City erupted in gunfire, turning into utter chaos.
This was definitely not part of WLG’s strategy!
“You call that being scared?” The coach clapped his hands in front of the TV. “You’re way too fearless!!!”
Fortunately, Sang Ye was in unexpectedly great form. Although his aggressive play was reckless, and his moves were quite rough, every shot hit the mark, and every shot was fatal.
The director loved players who could deliver both great gameplay and provoke conflict, so the camera practically followed WLG’s every move.
The TV was filled with the commentator’s excited voice.
“One headshot! Unbelievable! It’s like after just a short break, while others were recharging with a power bank, Song seemed to have plugged into an entire power station! What’s going on? This tempo is insane!”
“Great! Song’s spotted someone! It’s FP’s Dust again—what a fateful encounter! Dust looks extra cautious now, no intention of provoking WLG. Oh no! Too late! Song shoots as soon as he sees him—three headshots! Dust is down, crawling into a crater. With the terrain advantage, there’s a chance his teammates could revive him. Song’s holding a grenade, already aimed at their position. He could easily charge in and take out Dust and his teammate. Let’s see… What? He’s getting in a car and driving away? Is Song really going to spare Dust’s life? Oh my god! He didn’t even look back! Is this some sort of earth-shattering love story?!”
“…It’s FP again! Why is FP always the one getting hurt? Song already spared them once, but fate brings them together again, and Dust gets wrecked once more. Poor guy, but he couldn’t fight back, so they were eliminated.”
“Wait, I think I know why Song let him live in the third circle.”
“Why?”
“He left FP in the circle so he could meet them again later and beat them up one more time!”
“Haha! This is basically beating a dead horse at this point! Song is about to give FP a complex. FP’s tragic experience shows once again: never mess with a die-hard fan… We can see that FP didn’t score a single point on the first day of training and is still sitting at the bottom of the leaderboard.”
“As a new team, FP had quite a bit of hype, with a support rate even slightly higher than WLG’s. But who would’ve thought they’d have such a rough start on the first day…”
As the sixth round concluded, the Day 1 training match rankings were revealed. WLG took the top spot with three chicken dinners in six rounds, creating a 7-point gap from the second-place team.
The broadcast camera shifted to the four members of WLG.
Sang Ye looked clearly youthful and proud, a hint of youthful arrogance at the corners of his eyes.
“You little rascal…” the coach couldn’t resist his teasing tone. “Winning and taking down enemies at the same time—why don’t you flaunt a bit more?”
On camera, Miao Sen finally revealed a slight, relaxed smile and extended his hand to the side.
Sang Ye, still drinking water, casually raised his hand and bumped fists with him.
Tan Mo watched the scene, feeling an inexplicable pang in his chest. He licked the corner of his lips, shifted his sitting position, and squinted slightly at the TV.
The coach leaned back with his cup in hand. Ever since the spring tournament collapse, he hadn’t felt this content.
Just then, a voice suddenly interrupted from the side.
“When’s it my turn to play?”
The coach’s heart clenched. He sat up again and stared at Tan Mo for a moment, his tone lowering. “I’ve been suggesting you retire since the spring split, but you kept refusing. Putting you as a substitute for the summer split is to give the fans a transition period, and also to give you some time to adjust. But don’t forget, even if we fail this summer split, you won’t be given a chance to play.”
Tan Mo looked down, tugging at a loose thread on the edge of the sofa. “So, I just sit here and watch?”
“What are you getting emotional with me for?” The coach frowned, his temper flaring. “Is it my fault that you—”
Mid-sentence, he bit his words back, stopped himself, and walked to the wall in frustration.
The coach faced the wall, trying to calm down as he recalled the first time he’d heard about Tan Mo’s condition from the team doctor—the absurdity and the refusal to believe it.
—“The combination of the live match environment and the sound of gunfire will severely increase his stress, triggering PTSD… PTSD, that’s Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder…”
—“Are you kidding me? He can’t hear gunshots during a match? Tan Mo’s a professional player, he plays PUBG! He’s been fully committed to this, and he will be for at least the next ten years. How could he have this kind of issue? It’s impossible! What kind of twisted coincidence is this? You’re pushing him to a dead end. Do you even know he just won the World Championship? So why didn’t he have this problem before, and now suddenly it appears? You’ve misdiagnosed him, haven’t you? This is ridiculous.”
—“The case from his childhood was reopened in court. New evidence came up, and they called him in to identify it. He recalled even the smallest, most buried details…”
It took the coach a full week to come to terms with the fact that the most talented player in PUBG was going to have to step down just as he had reached the peak of his career.
But he knew the one suffering the most was still Tan Mo.
Tan Mo was someone born for his dream. Even though he never said it out loud, he longed for the stage. He desperately wanted to lead the team into battle, but now, while his familiar teammates and rivals were fighting for glory, he could only sit in front of a TV. This kind of torment was nothing short of torture.
It was understandable that he would feel agitated and impulsive at times.
The coach soon calmed down, his tone softening with understanding. “After the online tournament incident, we all know your condition is unstable. If you insist on playing and it flares up in the middle of a match, I’m not worried about the team’s performance. I’m worried about you. If all the cameras turn to you in that moment, that will be your retirement, live for everyone to see. It won’t be pretty.”
“Maybe that’s my fate, and I accept it,” Tan Mo said, grabbing his jacket and standing up to leave. “Better than sitting here doing nothing.”
The door slammed shut with a bang.
The coach rubbed his temples in frustration.
Tan Mo had always been level-headed and had never complained before. His sudden rebellious attitude had caught him completely off guard.
He turned back to the TV, where Sang Ye was named MVP of Day 1, his image prominently displayed on the screen.
The coach suddenly had a realization and furrowed his brows.
The boy’s appearance seemed to have caused Tan Mo to lose his patience.
…
After Sang Ye left the stage, he was a bit high on adrenaline. He rushed back to the backstage area ahead of everyone else and bounded to the door of the lounge, pushing it open with force.
The noise startled the coach, who almost burned his lips on his goji berry tea.
Sang Ye quickly scanned the room and saw only the coach. His expression instantly cooled.
The coach wiped his mouth with his hand. “You look pretty disappointed to see me.”
Sang Ye turned around and closed the door, his tone indifferent. “Not really.”
He just wasn’t that thrilled.
Of course, the coach saw right through him. “Talk went back,” he said.
Sang Ye blinked and let out an “Oh,” before continuing to pack his bag.
The coach noticed the boy’s disappointment. He knew Sang Ye had rushed back, eager to hear a word of praise from his idol.
But the coach was a bit of a proud man, so he casually added in an offhand tone, as if it were no big deal: “You played well today.”
“Who asked you?” Sang Ye muttered without looking up.
“Ugh…” The coach was so irritated, he felt a pang in his chest.
This brat.
Before long, everyone else started trickling back in.
Since the first day of scrims had gone so well—a lucky start—it seemed to signal a fresh beginning for WLG. Yu Haotian urged everyone to pack up quickly, suggesting they head back to the hotel and have a team dinner.
Xiao Pai and Hu Fu cheered, racing towards the door in high spirits.
As they walked down the corridor toward the exit, Xiao Pai suddenly nudged Sang Ye and asked, “Why haven’t you taken off your jacket? Did you rent it or something? It’s the middle of summer, and you’re still wearing it like you’re in a hurry!”
It was early June, the start of summer, and everyone else had taken off their team jackets, wearing only their short-sleeve shirts. Sang Ye, however, was still fully zipped up in his jacket.
Yu Haotian chimed in, “Didn’t you notice? That’s Talk’s jacket.”
“Ohhhh…” everyone exclaimed in unison.
Xiao Pai started teasing again.
Sang Ye’s face flushed red, but he stubbornly retorted, “Why do you care what I wear?”
“You only act tough when Talk’s not around,” Xiao Pai said, having figured it out long ago. “When Talk’s here, you pretend to be all well-behaved. Such a hypocrite!”
Sang Ye put on his headphones, too lazy to argue further.
At that moment, the group noticed a team standing by the exit—it was FP, along with their manager.
Neither the coach nor Yu Haotian made any move to greet them. A top-tier team carried its own air of composure and pride.
Feeling victorious today, Xiao Pai gave Huichen a sideways glance, his eyes full of smugness and disdain.
Huichen, no longer as arrogant as he had been before the match, lowered his gaze, unable to meet the unspoken taunts.
Walking at the back, Sang Ye removed one earphone as he passed by and offered a few words of encouragement to his defeated opponents: “Keep it up.”
The entire FP team froze in surprise.
Sang Ye turned around, walking backward as he pointed at Huichen. His lips curled into a grin, showing one sharp tooth, making him look like a little devil with imaginary horns:
“Tomorrow, don’t forget to walk right into my bullets again. If you don’t, you’re not a real man.”
“……….”
“Pfft—!”
Xiao Pai and Hu Fu burst out laughing on the spot, showing no mercy.
It was a verbal kill shot!
The WLG group left, chatting and laughing, leaving the FP team standing there with darkened expressions.
“He… he… he actually dared…” Huichen was trembling with rage. As if things weren’t bad enough for him already, Sang Ye had to stomp on him mercilessly.
“Give it a rest!” But the FP manager didn’t even give him the chance to be angry and started scolding him harshly. “We give you the chance to play, spend money and time promoting you, and you still don’t know your own worth? What were you even doing out there today? Zero points! Now the entire internet is mocking FP. What was I thinking when I recruited a useless player like you… Damn it…”
Huichen felt even worse after hearing this, as if he could barely breathe.
…
On the eighth floor of a five-star hotel, there was a restaurant. After dropping off their things, the group headed straight there by elevator.
As Hu Fu browsed through the array of dishes, he started planning, “I’ll eat as much as I can now, then go for a swim on the rooftop afterward. By then, the calories should be gone…”
Xiao Pai glanced at Sang Ye and said with a tone of disdain, “Are you, like, glued to that jacket or something? Why won’t you take it off? Don’t tell me you’re some kind of fanboy freak?”
Sang Ye, still on his phone, didn’t even look up. “You’re the freak.”
Xiao Pai, frustrated by the lack of communication, turned to Hu Fu to look at the menu with him.
Sang Ye lowered his head, pressing his nose against the zipper at the collar, inhaling deeply.
It felt refreshing.
Meanwhile, Yu Haotian was scrolling through his phone, growing more excited as he scrolled. “The online support rate is climbing, it’s really going up!”
Before the start of each competition, the official site always tallied the support rate for each team.
WLG had less than 1% before, but after just the first day of the training match, it had surged to 5%. It was clear that more and more people were starting to believe in WLG, and a quick glance at the forums showed significantly fewer posts criticizing them.
The coach smiled and said, “Keep it up.”
Yu Haotian looked around and asked in surprise, “Huh? Where’s Elan?”
Hu Fu, Elan’s roommate, looked up. “He’s in the practice room. Said he wouldn’t come to eat.”
Since they were going to stay here for nearly a month, the club had rented a space in the hotel to use as a practice room.
“Ah…” Yu Haotian looked worried and asked the coach, “The kid isn’t too stressed, is he? He’s wound so tight, but it’s not necessary.”
The next two weeks’ matches would all be Elan’s responsibility, and he had a training match tomorrow.
But having pressure was no surprise. After all, there was a competitive dynamic between Elan and Sang Ye. After the summer competition, one of them would have to go back to the second team. With Sang Ye setting the bar so high on the first day of training, if WLG couldn’t maintain their ranking in the coming days, someone with Elan’s personality would likely have a hard time accepting being outperformed.
The coach sighed and waved it off. “It’s out of our hands. If we stop him from practicing, it might mess with his rhythm.”
As dishes were brought to the table, everyone started eating.
Sang Ye, however, was looking around.
Yu Haotian noticed and said, “Don’t worry about Talk, he’ll come down to eat on his own.”
Sang Ye remained silent, poking his soft lips with his chopsticks. Despite the colorful dishes in front of him, his appetite suddenly diminished.
Alcohol was banned during competitions, so everyone was drinking healthy yam juice.
But that didn’t stop Xiao Pai from getting into a lively mood. Halfway through the meal, as the atmosphere warmed up, he raised his glass and clinked it against Sang Ye’s. “Today, you avenged me, Sang Ye. I’ll remember this. From now on, we’ve got a revolutionary bond. If you ever need my help, just ask. If I can help, I definitely will! Cheers!”
Sang Ye thought it was ridiculous to toast with yam juice and wasn’t going to respond, but then something flashed in his eyes, and he raised his glass. “You said it.”
“Absolutely! My word is as good as gold!”
…
After everyone had finished eating, the coach scheduled a review meeting for 11 PM, giving the team free time until then.
Sang Ye watched as one by one, people left the private room. He grabbed Xiao Pai, who was just about to stand, and lowered his voice suspiciously. “You said you’d help me, right?”
“What’s up?” Xiao Pai leaned in curiously. “Got an idea?”
“Go switch rooms with Talk.”
“……”
Currently, Sang Ye and Xiao Pai were roommates.
At first, Xiao Pai didn’t get it, but when he saw the gleam in Sang Ye’s eyes, he suddenly understood and let out an “Oh!” He knocked on the table and boasted, “Come on! I thought it was something big. Forget switching rooms—if you want, I could have Talk washed and tucked into bed for you. Leave it to me!”
Sang Ye frowned slightly.
“I’m on it!” Xiao Pai turned around and saw someone standing at the door. He didn’t have time to be startled before snapping to attention, standing straight as a board with his right heel touching his left ankle. “Brother!”
“……”
Sang Ye’s scalp tingled, and he stiffened, not daring to look back.
But he could hear the man’s lazy footsteps as he walked in.
Tan Mo pulled out a chair, sat down, and picked up the menu on the table. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” Xiao Pai quickly betrayed his comrade-in-arms, and did so with great ease. “Bai Mao has something to ask you. Bai Mao, tell him yourself!”
D*mn Xiao Pai…
Sang Ye glared at the person who ran off faster than a rabbit, his eyes full of resentment.
Tan Mo flipped a page of the menu, lifted his eyes, and looked at Sang Ye. “What’s the matter?”
Sang Ye’s face started to turn red, his eyelashes gradually lowered as he realized Tan Mo must have overheard his conversation with Xiao Pai earlier.
But it wasn’t really a big deal. He just wanted to room with Talk.
What’s wrong with sharing a room?
Since they weren’t at the base anymore, they didn’t even sit together during the day. They were both busy with the competition, barely having time to see each other. If they shared a room, at least they could chat more when they got back at night.
But Xiao Pai had to make it weird.
Talk must have heard and misunderstood, thinking he was some kind of creep.
Imagining a young kid fantasizing about tucking his idol into bed, all cleaned up…
Immature!
Perverted!
Sang Ye frowned tightly, feeling more and more uncomfortable as his thoughts spiraled. He kept his eyes lowered, his ten fingers nearly twisting into knots, the pressure from Tan Mo’s gaze making him feel immense pressure.
Tan Mo: “Hmm?”
That simple sound felt like the last straw that broke the camel’s back. Sang Ye’s composure collapsed instantly. He let out a soft whimper, stomped his foot, and slumped over the table, his voice cracking into a teary whine:
“I really wasn’t trying to sleep with you! Honestly!”
“…………”
The key thing was, Tan Mo hadn’t even thought of it that way.
Author’s Note:
Song: I really wasn’t trying to sleep with you, honestly.
Talk: It’s a little early to say that, dear.