Don’t Provoke The Wife Fans [E-Sport] – Chapter 53

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Chapter 53 – Want Free.

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Sang Ye stared at the jewelry box, feeling as if he were dreaming.

Xiao Pai’s eyes were dazzled by the pure gold and emerald green. After staring at it twice, he gasped, “Holy sh*t,” and lunged toward the table. “This, this, this—isn’t this the seven-million-dollar ring you showed me last time?!”

“Seven million what?” Hu Fu’s eyes widened in shock. “Since when can you unbox a Lamborghini from a package?”

“Not a Lamborghini—luxury jewelry…” Xiao Pai reached out cautiously, still in disbelief. “Could it be a replica? D*mn, are fans this crazy about their idols now? Guess I’ve never been famous, ‘cause I’ve never seen anything this wild.”

Before Xiao Pai’s fingers could touch the ring, Sang Ye snapped the box shut with a clap. His chest rose and fell sharply as he turned to Yu Haotian. “Who sent this? Can you find out?”

Yu Haotian picked up the damaged cardboard box and checked the shipping label. “There’s no sender information here. If you ask the courier service, they probably won’t tell you—they have privacy agreements… I’ve never seen anything like this either. A seven-million-dollar ring, just casually mailed in a busted box? How rich do you have to be? If I ran a package locker, I wouldn’t even dare accept it.”

“Tch, if they went out of their way to hide their identity, that means they genuinely wanted to gift it. They clearly don’t want you to return it or track them down.” Xiao Pai was fired up. “Bai Mao, put it on and take a look! Didn’t you want to save up for this ring? Well, your fans just made it happen.”

Sang Ye brushed his fingers over the soft velvet of the jewelry box, furrowing his brows. Then, he clenched the box tightly in his palm. “I have to find out who sent this.”

Hu Fu nodded. “Yeah, receiving a gift this extravagant from someone you’re not even close to… I wouldn’t dare accept it either.”

“If you want to find the person, isn’t it simple?” Xiao Pai’s eyes lit up as he suggested, “Think about whether you ever posted about this ring on Weibo. Did anyone comment on it enthusiastically? Or did you ever mention liking this ring to someone?”

But that was precisely what felt off to Sang Ye. He pressed his lips together before saying, “I only told you.”

Xiao Pai: “Huh?”

“Then that’s some serious telepathy.” Yu Haotian clicked his tongue in amazement. Suddenly, something occurred to him, and he lifted his head. “Oh, right. Talk, Song just got hit with something this big, and you’re not even gonna ask about it? At least help think of a solution—the kid’s about to lose his mind.”

The moment he finished speaking, both Xiao Pai and Hu Fu turned their gazes toward Tan Mo in perfect unison.

Thanks to Yu Haotian’s reminder, they finally realized that Tan Mo had been unusually quiet the entire time.

Seven million was on the table, and he didn’t even have the slightest curiosity?

Not to mention how much he usually cared for and looked after Sang Ye.

Sang Ye turned his face slightly to glance at him.

The man remained focused on his computer, occupied with his own work.

Sang Ye lowered his lashes.

To Talk, this was probably nothing worth mentioning. He likely didn’t care who sent what…

At that moment, Tan Mo picked up his water cup and stood up. He shot Xiao Pai a glance, signaling for him to move aside. As he passed Sang Ye, he suddenly stopped, lowering his gaze to the jewelry box.

Sang Ye instinctively curled his fingers around the velvet box, as if trying to hide it in his palm.

Tan Mo looked at him for a moment, then stretched out his hand. “Can I see it?”

“Uh…” Sang Ye hesitated for a beat before handing it over.

Tan Mo opened the lid with one hand, examining the emerald ring for a moment.

Everyone waited for him to say something.

Instead, Tan Mo set his cup back on the table, wordlessly took out the ring, bent down, and lifted Sang Ye’s left hand. Without hesitation, he slid the ring onto Sang Ye’s middle finger.

Sang Ye stared in confusion.

The ring fit snugly at the base of his finger—neither too loose nor too tight. A perfect fit.

The others were equally dumbfounded by Tan Mo’s actions.

Tan Mo tilted Sang Ye’s hand slightly to observe it from the side, then laid it flat again.

Bathed in sunlight streaming through the window, the gold and emerald hues intertwined with the delicate fairness of the boy’s fingers. In that instant, his hand became a third kind of gemstone—complementing the ring flawlessly, breathtaking beyond words.

“Maybe they simply thought it suited you, so they gave it to you.” Tan Mo lowered his lashes, his deep, magnetic voice calm and indifferent. “No one gives away a seven-million-dollar gift without thinking it through. They’ve already made up their mind. You don’t need to decide for them.”

The others exchanged glances, surprised by how decisively Tan Mo handled the situation. But after thinking it over, there was nothing wrong with what he said.

Sang Ye looked at the ring on his hand, then at Tan Mo’s hand still holding his. His face inexplicably grew hot.

Tan Mo released his hand, picked up his cup again, and before leaving, lightly patted the white-haired head.

“Keep it. It looks good on you.”

Sang Ye blinked, saying nothing, but looking unusually obedient.

With Tan Mo’s final word, the matter was settled.

Yu Haotian said, “Talk makes a good point. Just keep it for now—there’s nowhere to return it anyway. If we manage to track down the fan later, I’ll let you know. We’ll deal with it when the time comes. In the meantime, I’ll tighten up the rules on gift-giving.”

He waved his hand, urging the two onlookers to get to training before heading out himself.

Behind him, Xiao Pai grinned and whispered to Hu Fu, “When my brother put that ring on White Hair just now… it was too real. For a second, I thought I was at a proposal scene.”

“Same here,” Hu Fu chuckled. “But honestly, Tan Shen totally scored. The ring was a fan’s gift, yet he just put it on Song like it was nothing. That was some next-level flirting. If I were a girl, I’d demand he marry me on the spot!”

“Exactly! If you’re not planning to marry, why are you flirting?!”

Even though they were whispering, Sang Ye was sitting right behind them and caught every word loud and clear.

He raised both hands, pressing the backs against his flushed cheeks, his lowered lashes trembling with embarrassment.

The cool metal of the ring rested against his burning skin. The stark contrast in temperature made its presence even more pronounced.

Even now, just recalling the moment Tan Mo slid the ring onto his finger made Sang Ye’s heart pound wildly, as if it was about to break. His thoughts spiraled uncontrollably.

He turned his left hand over, bringing it closer to examine the ring again.

When he first received it, he had felt nothing but confusion and frustration, even to the point of wanting to cry.

Because he wanted this ring—but not for himself.

Setting aside how overwhelming and inexplicable it was to suddenly receive such a grand gift, just thinking about the fact that he had missed out on the last available piece in the world made him want to weep.

After being reassured by Tan Mo, Sang Ye gradually calmed down. Setting aside his own complicated emotions, he was finally able to appreciate the subtle yet profound affection behind the anonymous fan’s gift. Once he accepted it, he felt genuinely grateful, though he still believed this kind of behavior was not advisable.

Just because he had been an irrational fan didn’t mean he approved of others doing the same.

Now, Sang Ye had decided to keep the ring.

But not for the fan’s sake.

—He had accepted their feelings, but he was always prepared to return the gift. If he ever found the fan, or if they changed their mind in the future and wanted it back, he would negotiate to buy it, even at a higher price.

The real reason he kept it… was because Talk said it looked good on him.

Sang Ye studied the ring on his finger again, remembering how Tan Mo had placed it there. His face flushed red once more.

…

When Tan Mo returned with his water, Sang Ye was practicing recoil control in the simulator.

Tan Mo sat down, glanced at the boy’s hand resting on the keyboard, and picked up his headset.

“Why aren’t you wearing it?”

Sang Ye pulled off one side of his headset and leaned in slightly. “What?”

Tan Mo lifted his chin, motioning toward his hand.

Sang Ye instinctively curled his fingers, his face tinged with embarrassment. “Not during training… It’s inconvenient. And besides, it’s too expensive.”

Only then did Tan Mo casually ask, “Do you like it?”

Sang Ye tilted his head in thought for a moment, then nodded. “I do.”

Tan Mo’s gaze flickered over the soft curve of the boy’s slightly upturned lips. He lowered his eyes, his voice deep and quiet.

“As long as you like it.”

…

At noon, Yu Haotian posted an update on the official Weibo account, subtly reminding fans not to send extravagant gifts—that what truly mattered was their support and sincerity.

However, by the afternoon, news of Sang Ye receiving a million-dollar ring had already spread like wildfire online.

[Rumored to be seven million. My imagination is officially limited by poverty. Orz.]

[Songbao’s prestige is off the charts.]

[Pro players are making more money than celebrities now?]

[The esports scene needs some regulation. It’s not as pure as it used to be.]

[Some of you sound bitter. Did the fan spend your money?]

[[doge emoji] Now the pressure is on Tan Shen. Question: What brand of wedding ring will he have to buy in the future to outdo the fans?]

[……]

That evening, while the second team was eating in the cafeteria, they were also buzzing about the news.

Ji Feng, shoveling food into his mouth while scrolling through Weibo, sighed enviously, “If a fan gave me a ring like that, I’d retire on the spot.”

Jin Cao shook his head. “Look at you, no ambition at all.”

Ji Feng smirked. “You wouldn’t be tempted?”

Jin Cao shrugged. “I’d straight-up say Yes, I do.”

Ji Feng: “Ha, so you were the real sellout all along.”

An Liu flipped his phone face down, lowered his head, and ate, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Only a man could afford to send such an expensive gift, right? He really has no shame accepting anything… But I guess he enjoys being fawned over by men.”

Ji Feng and Jin Cao exchanged glances, looking visibly awkward.

The malice in that remark was blatant—there was no way to smooth it over.

At the table next to them, E Lan had been eating quietly, but his chopsticks suddenly paused. He stared at the food in front of him for a moment, then slowly set down his utensils and turned his head toward An Liu.

However, before he could speak, a figure stepped into the aisle between them, blocking his view.

E Lan looked up and saw a familiar milk-white head, its back facing him.

He lowered his gaze indifferently and picked up his chopsticks again, resuming his meal as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, at the other table, the atmosphere had turned unbearably tense the moment Sang Ye appeared.

Sang Ye calmly sipped the last of his yogurt, then set the plastic cup down on the table with a decisive thud. He leaned forward, both hands on the table, and stared at An Liu.

“What did you just say?”

His voice wasn’t restrained at all—if anything, it was louder than usual. Nearly half the cafeteria turned to look.

An Liu’s gaze flickered stiffly around the room, his expression flustered. He forced out a harsh, defensive reply. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

“You weren’t talking about me?” Sang Ye’s voice grew even louder, pressing him. “Then why won’t you admit it? Why slander me? Does it make you feel better about yourself?”

By now, every single person in the cafeteria was staring.

Many of the newer trainees were present, and quite a few admired An Liu. Their eyes darted toward him, their whispers growing louder.

Sweat beaded on An Liu’s forehead. He grabbed his tray and stood up abruptly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sang Ye took a step to the side, blocking An Liu’s path. Though he was slightly shorter, the way he held his head high completely overwhelmed the other.

“Playing dumb, huh? Sure, go ahead. But as long as I know what you’re saying, that’s enough. I’ve seen plenty of people like you. Online, they call you a loser. In real life? Just plain tr*sh. You couldn’t beat Xia Zhiyan before, and now you can’t win against E Lan either. Me? You could train for another eight hundred years and still wouldn’t catch up. The only time you feel superior is when you’re putting me down, right? What I don’t get is—why is someone like you still in WLG?”

An Liu’s face turned pale, then flushed red. He was shaking with anger. “You—!”

He hadn’t expected Sang Ye to actually go all out, tearing into him in front of everyone without any hesitation. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go—wasn’t he worried about how it would look?

But as he glanced around, he realized that many people were whispering and pointing at Sang Ye, likely unaware of the full context and only seeing how aggressive he appeared.

Seizing the moment, An Liu quickly put on a bitter smile, pretending to be a helpless victim. “I swear I wasn’t talking about you just now. You’re being too sensitive. If you have a problem, take it up with the team manager. I know you’re good, but do you really need to stomp me into the ground like this?”

He was ready. This was his plan—steer public opinion in his favor.

But then—

Sang Ye just turned and walked away.

“……”

An Liu was left standing there, his whole body tensed with frustration, as if he had prepared to throw a punch only to swing at empty air. His face darkened.

Now he got it—Sang Ye wasn’t trying to argue, wasn’t looking to win or justify anything. He was just out to make him miserable. With zero concern for the consequences.

Just as Sang Ye reached the cafeteria doors, he suddenly stopped.

Ahead, Talk leaned casually against the glass entrance, his posture relaxed, as if he’d been standing there for a while.

In an instant, Sang Ye seemed to shrink back into himself. His face turned red. Embarrassed, he bit the tip of his tongue and avoided looking at Talk entirely. Not even a greeting—he just lowered his head and hurried past.

Talk tilted his head slightly, watching Sang Ye’s figure disappear down the hallway.

Only then did he shift his gaze—cool and unreadable—toward An Liu.

Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he motioned toward the door.

…

When An Liu entered the meeting room, his nerves were all over the place. He took several deep breaths to calm himself.

Talk was leaning back in the main seat at the front of the projector screen. He casually nodded toward the chair on his lower right, signaling An Liu to sit.

“Why did you get into a fight?”

An Liu felt a slight sense of relief.

Talk didn’t know the full story. As long as he stuck to his version and made sure Ji Feng and Jing Cao kept their mouths shut, then the one guilty of bullying a teammate would be Sang Ye.

And if there was one thing Talk hated, it was troublemakers within the team.

Lowering his head, An Liu put on an aggrieved look. “Maybe it’s because when Song first joined, I didn’t let him into the group chat. He’s always held a grudge against me. I was just eating my meal, casually commenting on the gift he received, and out of nowhere, he started insulting me… It was pretty baffling.”

Talk spun the ballpoint pen in his fingers, lifting his gaze slightly. “What exactly did you say?”

“Just that I was kind of envious,” An Liu shrugged. “But somehow, he took it as me being sarcastic.”

Talk continued flipping through the stack of resumes in front of him. After idly twirling the pen for a moment, he finally set it down.

“Sang Ye is still young. He can be impulsive.”

An Liu completely relaxed, even allowing a small, satisfied smile to form. “I know, of course. It’s not like I would hold it against him—”

“But he wasn’t wrong about one thing.”

With a soft click, Talk pressed the pen against the paper. Then, he looked up.

“Why is someone like you still in WLG?”

A sudden chill ran down An Liu’s spine, and his face instantly drained of color.

Leaning back against his chair, Talk’s expression was indifferent. “Back when Shine was still here, I had already heard a few things. I wanted to have a talk with you, but the coach kept backing you up, so I let it slide. But now… it seems you’ve only gotten worse.”

Cold sweat started to form on An Liu’s forehead. His lips parted. “Captain, I—”

“There are plenty of people who can replace you,” Talk cut him off. “And they’d do a better job. If you think WLG owes you something, feel free to find a team that suits you better.”

He stood up, his voice carrying an unmistakable finality.

“Don’t mess with my teammates. Especially not Sang Ye. My patience only goes so far.”

The meeting room door closed behind him.

An Liu collapsed into his chair.

For the first time, his future felt clouded in uncertainty.

…

Sang Ye sat in the first team’s training room, biting his fingernail, completely tangled up in his thoughts.

How was he supposed to explain things to Talk?

That sentence An Liu had said was so vile that he couldn’t even bring himself to repeat it. And because it was that bad, he didn’t want Talk to know about it either.

But if he didn’t say anything, it would seem like he was the one being unreasonable.

Sang Ye frowned, then flopped onto the desk in defeat.

Maybe he should just take the blame and get it over with.

It wasn’t like he’d actually mean it. Besides, he wasn’t planning on letting An Liu off the hook anytime soon.

At that moment, someone entered the training room.

Sang Ye glanced up and immediately straightened when he saw that it was Talk.

But Talk acted as if nothing had happened. His expression remained calm as he sat down in the seat beside him and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Sang Ye lowered his gaze, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. His face flushed as he hesitantly mumbled, “Earlier in the cafeteria, I shouldn’t have…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Talk cut him off. “It’s An Liu who should apologize.”

Sang Ye froze, looking up in surprise.

“And me,” Talk added. “For not handling the conflict within the team sooner, which ended up affecting you. I’m sorry.”

He reached out, as if intending to ruffle Sang Ye’s hair like he usually did, but midway, his hand halted.

Sang Ye hadn’t expected to be the one comforted instead. His dark, bright eyes followed Talk’s hand as it curled slightly before withdrawing.

A tinge of disappointment flashed in Sang Ye’s gaze, but the next second, he pulled himself together and quickly waved his hands. “You don’t have to apologize! This has nothing to do with you. The one at fault is him.”

Talk was silent for a moment before asking, “Why didn’t you tell me the first time you heard him talking about you?”

Sang Ye scratched his head, his face heating up. “What he said was really awful… He even brought you up, saying I was trying to ‘lure’ you or something… Anyway, it was disgusting.”

Talk thought for a moment, then said in a low voice, “You can tell me anything directly. There’s no need to feel embarrassed or worry about misunderstandings. I…” He pressed his lips together briefly. “I know you’re straight. You don’t have those kinds of feelings for me.”

For a split second, Sang Ye’s expression turned blank.

He didn’t know why, but while he could easily tell Xiao Pai over and over that he was straight without a second thought…

Hearing Talk say it out loud gave him a strange, hollow feeling inside.

Before he could dwell on it, footsteps sounded outside the door.

Xiao Pai burst in, slammed a can of Red Bull onto Sang Ye’s desk, and ruffled his hair excitedly. “D*mn, Bai Mao! Heard you roasted An Liu so bad in the cafeteria that he took a leave of absence! Skipped the scrims tonight and everything—dude’s straight-up shut down!”

Irritated, Sang Ye swatted at his hand, but Xiao Pai had already darted away, his dodge so practiced that it was almost pitiful.

Sang Ye smoothed down his ruffled hair, feeling oddly puzzled.

Was his clapback really that effective?

Back in the cafeteria, An Liu had still looked like he wanted to argue with him.

Sang Ye furrowed his brows slightly and cracked open the Red Bull.

If he actually roasted An Liu into social withdrawal… d*mn, he really was something else.

…

The next morning, Talk arrived at the practice room, pulling a suitcase behind him.

Only then did Sang Ye remember—Talk was heading home for a few days.

Hurriedly stuffing a wonton into his mouth, he flipped through the desk calendar beside him and realized that Talk’s birthday was only three days away.

A trace of worry flashed across Sang Ye’s face. He waited until there was no one around, then quietly called out, “Talk…”

Talk was tidying up his desk. He turned his head and asked, “What?”

Sang Ye glanced at Talk’s desk—neat, spotless, and always perfectly organized.

Then he looked at his own—a chaotic mess. Every time practice started, he had to shove everything to the side just to make room for his hands.

Typical Virgo…

He hesitated for a while, his face slowly turning red, before finally asking, “Are you coming back the day after tomorrow?”

Talk thought for a moment and replied, “I took a week off. I probably won’t be back yet.”

“Oh.” Sang Ye’s response was soft, his head lowering in obvious disappointment.

Talk noticed his reaction and was about to ask about it when his eyes fell on Sang Ye’s desk calendar.

A bright red circle marked the number 23, with several little stars drawn around it.

It was clear that, to Sang Ye, this was an important day.

Talk felt a warmth spread through his chest, but at the same time, a pang of bittersweetness followed.

Once upon a time, Sang Ye’s admiration and affection had felt like a gift—something bestowed upon him. But now, it had become a kind of naive torment.

Talk bit his lower lip and spoke in a low voice, trying to comfort him. “It’s okay. When I get back, I’ll take you guys out for dinner. We can celebrate then.”

Sang Ye’s eyelashes trembled slightly. He nodded, but suddenly, the wonton in his mouth didn’t taste as good anymore.

This was Talk’s first birthday since Sang Ye had come to his side. He had thought that, for once, he wouldn’t have to send his wishes through a screen.

But he quickly adjusted his mood, grabbed a tissue to wipe his mouth, and looked up at Talk. “By the way, what do you want for your birthday?”

Sang Ye had already decided on a gift, but unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to get it.

These past few days, he had been rethinking his choice, even considering buying an alternative gift. But after seeing the best option, everything else felt unworthy of Talk, leaving him at a loss.

Now, Sang Ye decided to ask directly—he wanted to give a gift that truly suited Talk’s taste.

“What’s this?” Talk curled his lips slightly. “You’re planning to give me something?”

Sang Ye straightened his back. “Of course! Everyone else is giving you a gift, so why wouldn’t I?”

Talk chuckled, amused by his naivety. “No one’s getting me anything. You’re the first person to even suggest it.”

“……”

Sang Ye suddenly recalled that night at the Japanese restaurant, when everyone had been devouring their food as if they were starving, only focused on eating as much as possible.

It was true—they were all just a bunch of freeloaders!

Feeling even more indignant, Sang Ye grabbed his phone, opened a shopping app, and declared boldly, “Just tell me what you want. No matter how much it costs, I’ll buy it for you!”

But after waiting for a long moment, he received no response.

Sang Ye looked up.

Talk was staring at him intently, his gaze unwavering.

Sang Ye’s dark pupils trembled slightly, and his heart skipped a beat.

Then, Talk shifted his gaze away and resumed tidying up his desk. “I want something free.”

“…Huh?” Sang Ye blinked in confusion, still clutching his phone, completely lost.

But Talk seemed even more certain this time.

“I want something free.”

After finishing his packing, he picked up his cup, stood up, and flicked a finger against the boy’s forehead.

“Surprise me, Sang Fugui.”

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