This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi! ( ˘ ³˘)♥
Chapter 48 – Congratulations to WLG.
The post-match interview ended with Li Junxian’s awkward exit and the livestream chat erupting in laughter.
Back in the lounge, Yu Haotian sighed helplessly and said to Sang Ye, “Their team manager came to us directly, saying your comments were too harsh and made them look bad. Can you at least tone it down a little when you’re trash-talking?”
“Tone it down how?” Sang Ye muttered, face sulking as he packed his bag. “I didn’t even curse at him. That was me being polite already. And now they’ve got the nerve to come complaining? Spoiled brats.”
Yu Haotian rubbed his temples. “…Wow. I should really thank you for not pointing at his face and cussing him out, huh? You’ve done us such a big favor.”
“No, but for real,” Xiao Pai chimed in. “Ever since Bai Mao joined, I’ve barely had to put up with other people’s BS anymore. My sportsmanship might’ve taken a hit, but my mental health has never been better. That’s a real win.”
“Sh*t up!” Yu Haotian quickly cut him off, worried that his words would only encourage Sang Ye further.
Even though their team was still ranked second, today weirdly felt like a victory. Everyone was more relaxed than the night before when they returned to the hotel.
Sang Ye didn’t stir up any trouble either. He went back to his room early, took a shower, and jumped straight into bed.
Xiao Pai was brushing his teeth when he peeked out of the bathroom. “Bai Mao, you’re sleeping this early?”
Sang Ye pulled the blanket over his head, muffling his voice. “Leave me alone.”
Xiao Pai shrugged. After nearly a month as Sang Ye’s roommate, he was used to this brand of aloof indifference.
On a summer night, lying under a blanket in an air-conditioned room set to a perfect 24°C was a luxurious kind of comfort.
Under the covers, Sang Ye opened LOFTER, quickly registered an account using his phone number, and began searching for “rap” fanfiction.
He was just curious to see what it was all about—not that he actually planned on reading anything. After all, he didn’t like novels. Anything over 500 words overloaded his brain; he just wasn’t built for reading.
He clicked on the most popular story in the search results.
— [[Rap] …]
— [Cold and Untouchable Alpha x Spoiled Omega | Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers]
— [Character inspiration drawn from Song’s livestreams and All-Star matches. OOC. Pure self-indulgence.]
Sang Ye frowned. The screen was filled with symbols he couldn’t make sense of, except for one word: “xp.”
They were probably talking about some new Windows operating system or something.
Ignoring the unfamiliar jargon, Sang Ye started reading the first paragraph.
[The most neglected imperial prince has gotten married.]
Alright, that made sense.
Next paragraph.
[A night of passion.]
???
Sang Ye’s mind filled with question marks as he read on, intending only to skim through it. But before he knew it, he had devoured the entire story in one sitting—right up until 1 AM.
Throughout the process, his face remained burning hot, and his dark eyes gleamed with a fiery intensity under the screen’s glow.
This wasn’t just some confusing text that left him flustered—this was food. Spiritual nourishment!
Not only was he not tired anymore, but he now wanted to go out and hunt for more.
At around 1 AM, Jiang Bobai sent him a message.
Benbo Erba: [Brother, I just caught up on your match today—holy sh*t, you were insane! JunX is about to get sent back to Korea at this rate. From now on, you’re officially my esports idol! The pride of China!]
Benbo Erba: [Oh, great esports god, are you asleep yet?]
Sang Ye took a moment to reply.
S.: [Reading a novel. Do not disturb.]
Benbo Erba: [A novel?? You?? You reading a novel?? You don’t pass out from reading more than five sentences. At least come up with a better excuse if you don’t wanna talk to me.]
Sang Ye frowned.
Tch. Stop underestimating me.
S.: [Do you even know what fanfiction is?]
Benbo Erba: [Brother, I’m from the anime fandom. You think this stuff is beyond me? What, you getting into the scene now too?]
S.: [Reading my idol’s CP fanfic.]
Jiang Bobai’s first reaction was completely unexpected—
Benbo Erba: [Oh? Talk and who? That pretty streamer Nuonuo?]
!!!
Sang Ye shot up from his bed in an instant. Luckily, Xiao Pai was a deep sleeper and wasn’t disturbed.
He didn’t know why, but just seeing Talk’s name next to Nuonuo’s made his heart twist—sour and uncomfortable. Let alone people actually thinking they were a couple.
He didn’t have time to analyze his emotions. His fingers flew across the keyboard, desperate to shut down Jiang Bobai’s dangerous thoughts.
S.: [No way! Talk and Nuonuo barely even know each other. Have you ever seen them in the same frame? Stop spreading baseless rumors!]
S.: [Talk has an official and canon CP. It’s called Rap! Rap is the real deal! No breaking up this ship!]
Benbo Erba: [😊 Ohhh, so that’s why you’re so worked up. Turns out, you’re shipping yourself with your idol.]
Benbo Erba: [Lemme guess—you think no one else is worthy of being with your idol except you?]
Sang Ye’s face flushed red. He stiffened his neck.
S.: [Shipping is one thing. Don’t drag real people into it]
Benbo Erba: [Alright, alright, you win. No arguing with you.]
Benbo Erba: [But seriously, are you sure your CP’s fanfics are even readable?]
Sang Ye was fuming.
S.: [It’s insanely good! The author is amazing! If you haven’t read it, just sh*t up!!!]
Benbo Erba: [I don’t believe you. Unless you let me see it. 🤥]
Without hesitation, Sang Ye shared the fanfic he was completely obsessed with, sending it directly to his WeChat friend list.
But the moment he hit send, he paused, feeling a little awkward. So, he quickly added a reminder for Jiang Bobai.
S.: [Read it like a civilized person. Do not imagine real people.]
Having successfully promoted his favorite CP and fanfic, Sang Ye relaxed, falling back onto his bed. A quick glance at the time—almost 1:30 AM. Worried about waking up late tomorrow, he forced himself to stop scrolling and prepared to sleep.
But then, another message from Jiang Bobai popped up.
Benbo Erba: [Yeah, yeah, I got it. No imagining real people. Now hurry up and send it, I’m waiting.]
Sang Ye was about to reply that he had already sent it when he scrolled up the chat window—only to realize that no third-party link had actually appeared.
Thinking it was a system bug, he returned to LOFTER, ready to share the link again.
And at that exact moment—
A WeChat notification popped up at the top of his screen.
[What are you reading? 😊]
Sang Ye froze for two seconds.
His brain short-circuited.
His pale face instantly flushed red.
With trembling fingers, he tapped open his chat with Tan Mo to check.
And right there, staring back at him, was the last message he had sent—
S.: [[Shared LOFTER link] [Rap] The Empire’s Admiral and His Royal Little Wife]
“…”
In that instant, his soul left his body.
Because he had been chatting with Tan Mo all day, their conversation was always at the top of his message list. So, when he went to share the link, his finger slipped, and he sent it to Tan Mo by mistake…
Wrapped in his blanket, Sang Ye flipped over and lay flat on his stomach. In the darkness, the glow of the screen illuminated his flushed face. He bit his lower lip repeatedly, his fingers long-pressing the chat box over and over again—only to realize that the recall button had disappeared because more than two minutes had passed.
The level of secondhand embarrassment he was experiencing was on par with being thrown into a crematorium and set on fire.
Just as he was spiraling into panic, another message popped up.
T.: [What the hell is ‘A Night of Passion’? 😊]
“……”
At this point, even cremation was an understatement for what he was feeling.
Sang Ye stared at the screen, slowly retreating into his blanket, like a soft little snail withdrawing into its shell.
Until only a pair of slender, pale hands remained exposed outside the blanket. Under the dim light filtering through the window, his fingers twitched—first stretching out stiffly, then curling tightly into a fist, gripping so hard that his hands trembled.
Inside the blanket, Sang Ye bit into his pillow to keep himself from screaming, his eyes welling up with tears.
This time, he was really crying.
…
Meanwhile, Tan Mo lay in bed, idly scrolling through the novel, his lips curving into a faint smile.
At that moment—
After nearly ten minutes of dead silence, Sang Ye finally responded.
S.: [I have a friend.]
S.: [He saw it first and sent it to me.]
Tan Mo chuckled, not thinking much of it, simply teasing the boy.
T.: [Is your ‘friend’ named Sang Ye by any chance?]
On the other end, Sang Ye abruptly pressed his phone against his heaving chest, his breathing rapid and eyes filled with panic.
How did Talk know?!
…
The next morning, Sang Ye deliberately made an excuse to skip breakfast at the restaurant. Instead, he asked Xiao Pai to pack a meal for him, saying he’d head to the practice room first.
But unexpectedly, the first person to arrive later was Tan Mo, carrying a takeout bag in hand.
The moment Sang Ye saw the man, his face flushed red. He immediately lowered his head, purposely avoiding his gaze.
Tan Mo placed the bag in front of Sang Ye and looked down at him from above. “Why didn’t you go downstairs to eat?”
Sang Ye pressed his lips together, fidgeting with the spacebar key in front of him. He hesitated for a long time, unable to think of a response, and simply stayed silent.
“Hm?” Tan Mo reached out and lightly lifted the boy’s delicate chin, calling out, “Little Prince of the Empire?”
“……”
Sang Ye’s mind buzzed—his embarrassment skyrocketing.
He jumped up to leave, ducking his head and weaving left and right, trying to slip past Tan Mo. His voice was flustered as he whined, “What are you doing? I’m not playing with you anymore…”
Tan Mo always found the most enjoyment when Sang Ye said he wouldn’t play with him anymore. Whether it was his soft, pouty tone or his embarrassed expression, it was all too amusing.
Using his height advantage, Tan Mo blocked his path. When the boy inevitably bumped into him, he smoothly reached out and grasped the back of Sang Ye’s slender, fair neck.
“What did I do?” Tan Mo gazed down at him and said, “Weren’t you the one who sent me that ‘A Night of Passion’ thing? And now you won’t even talk about it?”
“It’s not like that…” Sang Ye was so mortified he didn’t know what to do. He lightly bumped his forehead against the man’s shoulder, overwhelmed.
He had just promised not to search for fanfiction in broad daylight, yet that very night, he went and shared a well-written piece—basically inviting Talk to read it together with him. The worst part? That story was full of subtle, ambiguous descriptions.
Just imagining that Talk had actually read it… made him want to disappear.
Tan Mo licked the corner of his lips, suppressing a laugh. His fingers, which were gripping the back of the boy’s neck, subconsciously rubbed against his skin. Just as he was about to soothe him, footsteps echoed from outside the door, followed by Xiao Pai’s loud voice: “Bai Mao is probably off grinding in secret again. He didn’t even come down for food, so my brother packed a meal for him.”
The two inside had no choice but to separate.
Sang Ye sat back down in front of his computer, both hands pressing against his burning cheeks as he stared at the screensaver.
Xiao Pai entered the room and glanced at him. “Yo, Bai Mao, haven’t eaten yet?”
Sang Ye let out a low hum in response, remaining completely still.
Xiao Pai and Hu Fu exchanged a look, wondering what was up with him.
Tan Mo sat down and, with his long, clean fingers, unwrapped the takeout container for Sang Ye and pulled out a pair of chopsticks.
“Eat.” He lightly nudged Sang Ye’s arm with the chopsticks and added, “Little Prince of the Empire.”
“……”
Sang Ye pursed his lips, took the chopsticks, and channeled his frustration into action—stuffing a huge bite of food into his mouth.
Seeing his cheeks puff up like a little squirrel, Tan Mo shook his head helplessly and chuckled.
…
Over the next two days, the competition grew increasingly intense.
The battles between the top-tier teams were particularly fierce—everyone was determined to take first place.
NSN had spent a fortune hiring foreign players, enduring criticism from netizens for not having a full Chinese roster. With so much at stake, they were dead set on winning the championship.
Catch22, essentially a newly formed team, was rising rapidly in the ranks. With The Fool’s return to the PCL, they saw this as their best chance to secure a spot among the top teams.
WLG, on the other hand, needed no explanation. After their failure in the Spring Split, they had been stuck in a slump. This Summer Split was crucial—winning meant a phoenix rising from the ashes, while losing would be total defeat. Their already dwindling fanbase would lose faith entirely. Given that the world had once expected them to be champions, anything less than first place would still be considered a failure for WLG.
By the fourth day, WLG had regained control, surpassing Catch22 to claim the top spot. However, the point gap between the two teams was slim—there was no room for complacency.
On the final day of the playoffs, inside the dimly lit glass-walled competition room, the only sounds were the rapid clicks of mice and the crisp clatter of keyboards as every player operated at peak intensity.
Sang Ye stared unblinkingly at the screen, his face flushed red with tension. A thin layer of sweat dampened his bangs, and his slender fingers trembled at high speed before suddenly stopping. His entire body gradually relaxed, though the unwillingness in his expression was unmistakable.
He had been headshotted by Xing Xing’s 98K.
On the battlefield, after Xing Xing confirmed the kill, he started making his way downstairs. But as he passed by a window, his body barely peeked into view—just enough for two precise shots to take him down.
The one who fired was Tan Mo.
With Xing Xing eliminated, Catch22’s offense was momentarily stalled. Tan Mo seized the opportunity to cross the church with Hu Fu, narrowly avoiding disaster. However, in the final circle, they were caught in an unfavorable zone and were eliminated early.
This was already the fifth round, and WLG had finished in third place.
On the overall leaderboard, Catch22 had officially taken the lead.
—WLG trailed by just three points.
Meanwhile, NSN was holding steady, never too far behind, still within striking distance of pulling off a comeback.
Xiao Pai took off his headset and sighed. “D*mn, my hands are starting to shake. If we choke in the next round, everything we’ve worked for will be wasted.”
Sang Ye stood up in silence, not wanting to hear such discouraging words. It would only add to the weight on his shoulders.
He walked out into the empty employee corridor, leaned against the wall, and stared down at the tips of his shoes. His face was cold and stern.
He couldn’t afford to lose.
He refused to lose to NSN—because Li Junxian had once said that WLG’s championship trophy was stolen.
And he refused to lose to Catch22—because WLG needed this victory to regain its confidence.
WLG had endured doubt for too long.
Tan Mo had endured doubt for too long.
But the chance to change everything, to make things right, all depended on this final match.
Just thinking about it made Sang Ye’s heart feel like a tangled mess.
Of course, he was afraid—just as Xiao Pai had said.
He knew that the harder one tried to grasp something, the more likely it was to slip away. That was the first sign of a broken mentality.
Sang Ye forced himself to calm down, but it was only surface-level composure. Beneath it, he could still feel something restless and uneasy stirring inside him.
Overthinking wouldn’t help. Sang Ye straightened up and turned back toward the competition area. As he rounded the corner, he suddenly noticed a tall figure leaning against the wall.
Seeing that it was Tan Mo, Sang Ye instinctively stopped in his tracks, unsure how long the man had been standing there.
Tan Mo looked at him and beckoned with a slight gesture.
Sang Ye walked over.
Lowering his gaze, Tan Mo reached out and adjusted the collar of Sang Ye’s team jersey. His voice was calm. “Nervous?”
Sang Ye instinctively wanted to deny it—he didn’t want Tan Mo to think he lacked mental resilience. But after a brief moment of thought, he realized there was no point in hiding it. So, instead, he slowly nodded.
Tan Mo said, “It’s normal to feel nervous. It’s okay.”
But Sang Ye knew it wasn’t just nerves. He lowered his eyes, then lifted them again and asked, “Do you think we can win?”
Tan Mo leaned his head back against the wall, shifted his gaze away, bit his lower lip lightly, and countered with a question. “Back when you were sitting in the audience, did you ever doubt that WLG would win?”
Sang Ye froze for a moment.
Back when he was just a fan, quietly watching WLG from the stands, he had never questioned whether WLG would win. In his eyes, WLG was destined to be victorious. Talk was destined to win. No matter how dire the situation, this team could always pull off a miracle at the last moment.
The expression on Sang Ye’s face said it all.
Tan Mo smiled tolerantly. “So, it’s not WLG you don’t trust—it’s yourself.”
Sang Ye lowered his head in shame.
What he feared most wasn’t losing the match itself.
What he feared was being the one to break under pressure, making a critical mistake that would cost the team everything.
Although it hadn’t happened yet, the mere thought of it was already tormenting him.
Tan Mo asked softly, “After seeing me at my weakest, do you still believe in me?”
Sang Ye immediately lifted his face, his voice heated as he retorted, “You’re not weak!”
He fiercely defended his idol, unwilling to hear even a single self-deprecating word from him.
“If that’s the case…” Tan Mo extended an open palm toward Sang Ye. “Then tonight, put your faith in me.”
A surge of warmth spread through Sang Ye’s chest, his face heating up. Lowering his gaze, he saw the clear, gentle lines on the man’s palm.
This time, he didn’t hesitate.
He placed his hand in Tan Mo’s.
“We can win.” Tan Mo’s fingers closed around his, his voice low and steady as he gave his final answer. “Because of you, we can win.”
…
The sixth and final round officially began.
Both the audience at the venue and those watching on their screens were fully focused, waiting to see who would claim the championship.
In the first phase, the safe zone formed in the west, placing P City near its center—making it a prime strategic position.
Commentator A: “Some teams with nothing to lose are already pushing into P City. Over the past two days, they might have hesitated, knowing that WLG typically drops there. But now, this is the final match of the final day. For teams outside the top ranks, their positions are pretty much set. Taking a gamble here might just turn the tide for them.”
Commentator B: “Exactly, which means WLG is facing a lot of pressure.”
Just as the commentators described, WLG had taken control of the compound and successfully defended against an early assault from Zodiac. However, with barely any time to regroup, they were immediately hit by another team coming in from the school.
Commentator A: “Ah, and there goes Xiao Pai, sacrificing his young life in that fight.”
Sang Ye’s heart skipped a beat. He quickly glanced at the bottom-right corner of the map.
The five-minute mark hadn’t even passed, and they were already down a player.
A huge disadvantage.
After Xiao Pai was eliminated, he probably realized he’d messed up and stayed silent for a moment.
That final shot—he missed it. His aim was off. But as the team’s flex player, responsible for all the miscellaneous tasks, he had genuinely done his best.
It was Tan Mo who finally broke the tense atmosphere with a lighthearted remark. “Dying this fast? Get ready for a pay deduction when we get back.”
“Come on, brother! That’s not how this works!” Xiao Pai protested.
Sang Ye took a deep breath, relaxing slightly. He knew Tan Mo was only saying this to ease everyone’s nerves.
By the fifth phase, the white zone had shifted to the lower district beneath G Harbor.
WLG moved from Dragon Ridge Mountain to the outer warehouses. But as Hu Fu took position at a high vantage point, Catch22’s Aster seized the opportunity and took him down.
Commentator A: “Beautiful shot! Aster’s long-range combat skills are insane! Not just Hu Fu—he’s taken down multiple veterans throughout this summer tournament. And this is only his first official season! If he keeps improving at this rate, by the time we reach Worlds, he and Song might just become absolute monsters.”
Hu Fu dramatically wiped the corner of his eye. “Looks like I really am getting old. The new wave is absolutely crushing us.”
Xiao Pai shot him a glance. “Oh, sh*t up. Who was that fat guy who ranked third on yesterday’s kill leaderboard?”
Hu Fu shrank back with a goofy grin. “Ehehehehe~”
By the sixth phase, the center of the zone had shifted to the area next to the Retirement Home.
Only two WLG players remained—Tan Mo and Song—holding down their position in the container yard.
Meanwhile, NSN’s last surviving player was eliminated, officially knocking them out of the championship race.
The audience near the front could see that inside the glass room belonging to NSN, Lu Qikai suddenly sprang to his feet and angrily slammed his keyboard against the wall.
In the seventh phase, the final circle was determined, with the center still in the container area, and only three teams remained.
One was WLG, with just two members left.
Another was SAS, with three members remaining.
The third was Catch22, with a full squad.
The system predicted the final “chicken dinner” probabilities based on terrain and remaining players: 20% for WLG, 30% for SAS, and 50% for Catch22.
Although Sang Ye and Tan Mo held positions in the center of the circle in the container, they were frequently disrupted by the nearby SAS.
Commentator A spoke quickly with excitement: “SAS must first take WLG’s position! If they don’t eliminate WLG first, they’ll be attacked from both sides! But it’s easier said than done! SAS has started their attack, and Song takes one down… two! Beautiful! Talk flanks around the container and gets a face-to-face knockdown!”
Commentator B added: “And right on cue, the spike pit has appeared! Talk and Song are already in the poison zone! Their position is terrible—they can’t retreat, and there’s no good spot to set up for shooting. Meanwhile, Catch22’s four members have begun their harvesting spree!”
The system’s “chicken dinner” probabilities updated.
WLG: 2%.
Catch22: 98%.
At this point, the outcome of the match was no longer in question.
WLG’s fans in the venue were silent, but their eyes remained fixed on the big screen.
A girl clutched a support sign that read [Talk, Song, Victory] to her chest, her eyes glistening with tears.
In the resting room, the coach gritted his teeth.
Although he had been telling the team not to feel pressure and that making it into the top eight was enough, deep down, who wouldn’t want their team to win the championship?
Especially after overcoming so many obstacles to make it this far.
In the game.
Sang Ye jumped onto a small wooden cabinet, moving along the wall as the blue poison slowly crept closer to him.
He could hear footsteps lingering outside, his heart pounding in his chest. His emotions were a mixture of icy dread and fiery determination. He swallowed hard and whispered, “Talk…”
Tan Mo, in another container, wasn’t in a much better situation, surrounded by two opponents. He loaded the last magazine into his gun and spoke in his usual calm, unruffled tone: “It’s okay. Just play like you usually do.”
Sang Ye felt a brief moment of calm in the anxious corner of his heart.
At that moment, with a signal from Catch22, they launched their attack and stormed into the container.
Sang Ye couldn’t clearly comprehend what happened next. Everything felt like a dream, unfolding in the blink of an eye. His brain was almost boiling with adrenaline.
He saw the first opponent rush in, so he raised his gun and fired, not even having time to aim properly. Someone hit him, and his health bar dropped from white to red in an instant. The screen was splattered with green blood, and he could barely see the enemy anymore. The only thing he could feel was that he hadn’t been eliminated yet, that he could still shoot, so he kept clicking the mouse, his fingertips, hands, and wrists tense and sore.
Until he fired the final shot, and the screen suddenly went dark.
Golden text popped up:
[Big winner, dinner’s chicken tonight!]
The entire venue erupted into deafening cheers.
Xiao Pai and Hu Fu jumped up, shouting excitedly.
Sang Ye remained frozen in front of his computer, breathing heavily.
The commentator’s voice rang out across the arena:
“Congratulations to WLG! They’ve won the 2022 PCL Summer Championship!”
WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER!!