Chapter 35 – The Smell of Love
San Ye was still lying face down, stubbornly sulking.
Talk Mo closed the menu and tossed it aside, then got up and walked over.
Through the gap between his arm and the table edge, San Ye caught a glimpse of spotless sneakers standing beside him, but he refused to lift his head.
Then, the tip of his exposed ear was lightly tugged by warm fingers.
“…”
San Ye bit his lip, trying to hold back his reaction.
Talk Mo watched as the fair skin from behind San Ye’s ear down to his neck flushed a soft pink, and he rubbed his fingers together.
So sensitive.
Just a touch, and it turns red.
“Switching rooms?” Talk Mo withdrew his hand, deliberately avoiding the subject of sleeping arrangements as he asked, “Why switch rooms?”
San Ye’s face grew warmer at the man’s teasing tone. His breath felt hot, and with gritted teeth, he suddenly sat up, slouching in the chair, his head hanging low. In a defeated mumble, he muttered, “It’s not like I want to sleep with you…”
Talk Mo couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh. Tugging at his pants, he crouched down on one knee, slightly looking up at the boy sitting in the chair. “You know, I’m staying in a room alone right now.”
San Ye raised his eyes and saw that Talk Mo’s normally cold, indifferent eyes were now tinged with a rare warmth, like the bright sparkle of a peach blossom, making his usually sharp gaze seem unexpectedly gentle.
San Ye’s heart raced, and he quickly averted his eyes, suddenly much more obedient. “Uh… I know.”
“I don’t sleep well at night. Sometimes… I wake up in the middle of the night.” Talk Mo lowered his gaze, resting one arm on the table, rubbing his chin with his fingers as he admitted, “Sharing a room with someone would mean considering their sleep schedule, which would be a hassle for me.”
San Ye’s heart clenched. He responded anxiously, “Then I won’t sleep with you. You need to rest properly.”
Talk Mo looked up at him, a hint of amusement in his expression, but remained silent.
San Ye suddenly realized his wording was off. He lowered his head, nervously fidgeting with the napkin, his face flushing bright red as his shaky breath betrayed his embarrassment. “I meant, I won’t sleep with you…”
The words “in the same room” were still caught in his throat.
San Ye’s burning cheeks were gently pinched.
“Maybe later.” Talk Mo’s voice softened. “When I’m better, I’ll come find you, okay?”
San Ye slightly opened his mouth, but no words came out. He felt an overwhelming heat, almost to the point of sweating. At the same time, a strange impulse surged inside him — a desire to dive into the man’s arms and act out, though he didn’t even know what he wanted to do. He just felt the urge to mess around, to stop the man from being so gentle, to prevent him from teasing him like this. It made him want to bury his face in embarrassment.
Breathing heavily but silently, San Ye didn’t respond. Talk Mo took his silence as agreement, glanced at his phone, and asked, “You have my WeChat. Why have you never messaged me?”
“Well…” San Ye was embarrassed.
He had always wanted to message, but felt too shy to disturb him. He worried that anything he said would just be meaningless nonsense.
“If you want to contact me, you can reach out directly,” Talk Mo said. “I’ll reply when I see it.”
San Ye swallowed, nodded blankly, and muttered, “Okay.”
When San Ye finally left the private room and returned to his own, he flopped onto the bed, feeling as if he were floating on a cloud made of cotton candy.
Xiao Pai peeked down the hallway, glancing both ways, and then asked, “Is your soul still floating around out there? Maybe leave the door open a little longer?”
San Ye quickly sat up, unusually ignoring Xiao Pai’s teasing, and asked, “What do you usually talk about with Talk on WeChat?”
“Talk?” Xiao Pai let out a snicker, waving his hand dismissively. “My brother’s all business. If there’s nothing important, he doesn’t like chatting.”
The fluffy cloud of cotton candy instantly vanished, and San Ye dropped back down to reality, sitting on the bed in confusion. “I have to have a reason to reach out?”
“Eh…” Xiao Pai sat on the opposite bed, pulling out his phone to show San Ye. “Here, look at our chat history. I feel like such a simp, it’s painful to even look at.”
San Ye glanced over and saw that in the last two pages of their chat history, only Xiao Pai’s messages were visible. Talk hadn’t replied at all. Scrolling further back, there were responses, but they were minimal — just a single word or a basic emoji.
In short, the conversation was as cold as ice.
San Ye felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over him, and the excitement faded.
He didn’t have anything important to talk to Talk about, and things like “Have you eaten?”, “What are you doing?”, or “Are you asleep?” would probably seem like pointless chatter to Talk, who wouldn’t bother responding to them.
“How’s it going?” Xiao Pai asked. “Did you talk to Talk Shen about the room change? If you’re switching rooms, I’ll start packing.”
“We’re not changing rooms!” San Ye flopped back onto the bed with a thud, grabbed the pillow next to him, and pressed it over his face.
What a waste of excitement.
Aside from Tan Mo and Yu Haotian, everyone attended the meeting at eleven.
The coach played the fourth game replay, and as soon as he saw San Ye fire the first shot, his blood pressure started to rise. “The XXY sniper was on the rooftop across from you. The moment you stepped out, you were asking to get headshotted! Your teammates were pinned in other rooms, and no one could cover you in time. This shot was completely illogical, way too risky! How many times do I have to say it? Play more carefully, carefully! Just relying on good reflexes might help you in the short term, but in pro play, you need to think systematically. Think before you act!”
San Ye: “Oh.”
“…”
It was this indifferent attitude that frustrated the coach the most. And the worst part was that San Ye was their MVP player, so criticizing him didn’t seem to make much of a difference.
“You’ll see! If you don’t fix those bad habits, you’ll trip up sooner or later!”
The coach then went over all the other issues the team had faced that day. Before dismissing everyone, he specifically told Elan to go to bed early and not to overtrain. After that, everyone headed back to their rooms.
After showering, San Ye sat cross-legged on the bed, resting his face in his hands. He stared at his phone, racking his brain for something to say to Talk, unwilling to go to sleep without exchanging a single word.
But what should he say?
San Ye thought so hard that his head started to hurt. Finally, he sighed, picked up his phone, and exited Talk’s chat.
Talk was probably asleep by now anyway, so it was better not to disturb him.
Just then, his phone buzzed.
T.: [Are you asleep?]
San Ye’s face lit up instantly. He hugged his phone, flopped onto the bed, and started kicking the mattress like a little turtle lying on its back. He spun 180 degrees head-to-foot, then rolled around 360 degrees, burying his face in the soft pillow to suppress a scream. Finally, he sprang upright in one swift motion.
He wanted to send a cute sticker like “Here I am!!” to ease the atmosphere, but his trembling fingers accidentally hit the first sticker in his gallery.
S.: [You can wait to die.jpg]
Tan Mo stared silently: “…”
[Message retracted]
S.: [Here I am!!.jpg]
S.: [Nope.]
Tan Mo sat on the edge of his bed, head down, staring at his phone. His finger hovered over the screen for a moment. He bit his lip and did something he once considered beneath him.
T.: [What are you doing?]
S.: [Grabbing a sack to trap you.jpg]
“…”
[Message retracted]
S.: [Wow~~.jpg]
S.: [Just browsing my phone.]
S.: [What about you?]
Tan Mo smirked slightly, realizing that aimless chatting like this wasn’t as annoying as he once thought.
When Xiao Pai came out of the bathroom wrapped in steam, he saw San Ye curled up in bed, only his head sticking out, hands holding the phone close to his face. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips were curled into a smile that was undeniably charming. It was the kind of smile that sparked an inexplicable sense of affection.
Xiao Pai’s internal alarms went off. He recognized that smile all too well!
It was the same lovestruck expression he used to have when chatting with his favorite female streamers!
“Who are you texting?” Xiao Pai eyed him suspiciously.
San Ye shot him a sidelong glance, his face cooling slightly. Then he turned away, pulling the blanket over his head: “None of your business.”
Xiao Pai sniffed out something fishy.
There’s no way it’s Talk on the other end!
Talk would never be up late at night chatting with someone.
Xiao Pai flopped onto his bed and grabbed his phone to report the situation.
3.1415926: [Brother, what are you up to?]
Unexpectedly, this time, the reply came instantly.
T.: [Asleep. Don’t bother me.]
“…”
Xiao Pai instantly lost his desire to share and felt a wave of frustration rising. He glared at the chat screen.
If your fan-wife starts looking elsewhere, don’t say I didn’t warn you!
…
For the next three days, every evening, San Ye followed the team to the e-sports arena to observe the matches.
Since Elan was subbed in, WLG hadn’t made any major mistakes and performed relatively steadily. By the end of the scrims, WLG ranked fourth in total points.
This result was within the coach’s expectations.
However, for the audience, the team’s performance still fell short of their image of WLG.
[“Without Talk, the vibe has changed. WLG is starting to feel like just an average team.”]
[“Song is still better. After all, he’s got the nickname “Little Talk” and has left a lot of impressive plays on the field. Definitely more exciting to watch.”]
[“If Song is playing, I can handle Talk not being there. But with four invisible players in the team, what’s the point?”]
[“Elan is personally very skilled, but he’s not as likeable as Song. I suggest putting Song in for the main competition.”]
[“Miao Sen was promoted from the second team, and we could already see he wasn’t great in the Spring Split. I don’t get why they’re still letting him play in the Summer Split. He can’t even be a proper shot-caller, and yet he thinks he can replace Talk?”]
“What are you looking at?” the coach glanced at Miao Sen’s phone.
Miao Sen immediately locked the screen and smiled, “Nothing.”
The coach patted his shoulder but noticed the muscles under his hand were tense.
Others might not notice, but as the coach, he was familiar enough with each player’s condition to sense that after four days of scrims, Miao Sen wasn’t getting more relaxed; instead, he was growing more and more anxious.
That wasn’t a good sign.
“Our goal this time is top eight. If we make it to the top eight, we’ll qualify for the intercontinental tournament, and that’s enough.” The coach squeezed the young man’s shoulder, adding, “Just maintain this level, and with your skill, you’ll be fine. Don’t read the online comments. Netizens love to give their two cents, but if they really knew what they were talking about, any one of them could be coaching instead.”
Miao Sen nodded, but this time, he couldn’t even muster a smile.
A few days after the scrims ended, the Summer Split officially began.
The regular season of the Summer Split lasts four weeks, with 24 teams divided into three groups, facing each other in a round-robin format.
This means that every match guarantees 16 teams, with 64 players competing.
According to the format, there are three days of midweek matches each week. The top eight teams on the leaderboard advance directly to the weekend finals, while the rest enter a wildcard round, where they compete for the remaining eight spots in the weekend finals.
Only the results from the weekend finals impact whether a team can qualify for the ultimate grand finals. So, teams can relax a bit during the midweek matches, as long as they ensure qualification, but for the weekend finals, they need to give their best, aiming for the highest points possible.
In the first week, WLG ranked 6th overall and advanced to the weekend finals, where they scored 35 points over two days, temporarily placing them in 8th.
Meanwhile, their online support rate continued to drop.
As one of the former “Big Three” teams, WLG’s performance wasn’t even considered satisfactory by fans.
Some netizens mocked: [“Well, it’s still better than the Spring Split when they dropped to 24th place at one point.”]
The first week consisted of four matches, and the atmosphere within the team grew increasingly tense with each one.
After the last match on Sunday, Elan returned to the break room, grabbed his jacket, slung his bag over his shoulder, and left.
Yu Haotian called after him, “Hey, Elan…”
Miao Sen, who was packing his things nearby, scowled, “Leave him alone!”
Xiao Pai stuck his tongue out at Yu Haotian, mouthing, “Ar-gu-ing…”
These two had a history of arguing back at the base, usually because Elan wanted to do things his way, but Miao Sen, as the captain and shot-caller, often had to get him to follow the plan, leading to clashes in their approach.
Earlier during the match, they’d clashed over voice chat, even exchanging insults about each other’s ancestors. Xiao Pai and Hu Fu had worked hard to calm them down so they could finish the game.
The coach listened to what had happened, and after returning to the hotel, he called Elan out of the practice room for a talk.
Xiao Pai glanced at the door and boldly predicted, “Bai Mao, you’ll probably be put on the field earlier than planned.”
According to the coach’s original schedule, Sang Ye was supposed to play during the last two weeks of the tournament, but with Elan and Miao Sen at odds, it was clear things weren’t as harmonious as when Sang Ye was around.
Sang Ye kept his head down, fingers flying across the keyboard of his phone. “Oh.”
Seeing his absent-minded behavior, Xiao Pai clicked his tongue in annoyance, “You’re seriously not having an online relationship, are you?”
Sang Ye shifted to the other side, blocking Xiao Pai’s view without lifting his head, “Online relationship, my foot.”
Xiao Pai frowned, observing Sang Ye with suspicion.
Over the past week, Sang Ye had been glued to his phone far more than usual—grabbing it first thing in the morning, texting while brushing his teeth, sending messages during car rides, and even during meals.
What bothered Xiao Pai the most was that on multiple occasions, even after lights-out, Sang Ye would be chuckling under his covers, the glow from his phone illuminating his grin, shaking the bed with his muffled laughter.
He was supposed to be stressed out from the constant grind of competition, yet Sang Ye, his roommate, seemed lost in the joys of some romantic haze. After a while, even someone as laid-back as Xiao Pai started to feel a bit jealous.
A little later, Sang Ye locked his phone and got up to leave—probably heading to the restroom.
With Monday being a break day, Xiao Pai opened up his streaming channel, planning to broadcast for an hour to his fans.
Just then, a vibration sounded from the nearby phone.
Xiao Pai glanced over instinctively, and there it was—Sang Ye’s phone flashing a new message on the screen.
The contact had no visible name, just a blank space for the nickname.
—— “Never tried durian before?”
—— “Wait for it, I’ll send it to your hotel.”
Xiao Pai hadn’t meant to peek; turning his head was just a reflex, but the message had popped up so clearly, he couldn’t help but see it. And in that moment, something clicked in his mind. With a sudden epiphany, he clapped his hands in realization.
The loud noise startled his viewers in the livestream chat.
Xiao Pai could no longer focus on his livestream. He excitedly pulled out his phone and messaged Tan Mo.
Case solved, everyone!
It had to be that Bai Mao’s online crush was one of his fans. Since they were both in Guangzhou, they started chatting and hit it off. Now, things had progressed to the point where they were about to meet in person—this mystery person was even planning to bring durian to the hotel!
3.1415926: [Brother, isn’t our club against dating too early?]
3.1415926: [When I was talking to a girl streamer, you snitched on me to the manager, and my first love was ruined.]
T.: [Kiddo, you were 17 back then.]
3.1415926: [Oh, come on, 17 or 18, same difference. Anyway, I think something’s off with Bai Mao.]
T.: [?]
3.1415926: [What I’m about to tell you… Brother, you need to stay strong. Even though Bai Mao is completely obsessed with you, it’s just idol worship, don’t get confused by it, and don’t get emotionally involved.]
T.: [My phone’s only at 98% battery, not chatting.]
3.1415926: [No, wait! Listen to me! Bai Mao’s been glued to his phone, probably texting someone outside!]
T.: [??]
3.1415926: [I live with him, I know. He’s always grinning at his phone, and now it’s reached the point where they’re meeting up in person!]
T.: [???]
3.1415926: [You should report this to the manager. Bai Mao’s just a kid; he doesn’t understand these things. His online fling is probably no good either. After just a week of chatting, they’re meeting up, and in a hotel no less! Who meets up at a hotel if they’re serious? This is clearly a scam!]
T.: [????]
3.1415926: [Stop with the question marks! Go report this to the manager before Bai Mao gets lured away with a durian!]
Just as Xiao Pai hit send, the door to the practice room opened.
Tan Mo pushed the door with his foot, eyes still on his phone. In his other hand, hanging by his side…
He was holding a big, golden durian.
“……”
Amidst the strong aroma filling the room, Xiao Pai stood there, bewildered, swallowing hard.
Tan Mo lifted his gaze to glance at Xiao Pai briefly before looking back down, calmly typing out and sending five question marks.
He walked into the room and asked, “Where is he?”
“Uh… the bathroom, I think,” Xiao Pai pointed outside.
The livestream viewers, seeing Tan Mo pass by Xiao Pai on camera, erupted with excitement.
[“Ahhhh, it’s Tan Shen!!! And he’s carrying a durian? Is he bringing it to Song?”]
[“Rap king for the win! Even in random streams, we get to see their cute interactions. So much daily sweetness!”]
With a thud, Tan Mo placed the durian on Sang Ye’s desk and patted Xiao Pai on the shoulder. “Don’t eat it,” he said, then left.
[“Hahaha, is our Xiao Pai not worthy?”]
[“Poor Xiao Pai, getting so much dog food but not even a bite of durian!”]
[“Xiao Pai’s world of hurt unlocked.”]
After Tan Mo left, Xiao Pai glanced at the chat log on his phone and then looked at the durian on the desk. It finally dawned on him why White Hair had been looking so love-struck lately.
Maybe it was because the durian wasn’t for him. The feeling of imbalance in his heart only grew stronger.
Just then, Hu Fu entered the room, lifting his head and sniffing the air. “What’s that strong smell?” he asked.
Xiao Pai stared at the durian, jealousy contorting his face. “The Smell of Love!” he grumbled.