Chapter 59 – Call Dad.
Sang Ye quickly pulled on his shirt and turned to ask Xiao Pai, “What’s up?”
At that moment, Tan Mo stepped aside, gesturing slightly toward Sang Ye. “Go ahead and ask.”
“……”
Xiao Pai watched Tan Mo walk out the door, feeling utterly baffled. He was going to ask anyway—why did Tan Mo have to interrupt?
“My brother is acting weird…” Xiao Pai muttered as he walked over to Sang Ye, still feeling concerned. “Are you okay? Last night… everything’s fine, right?”
Sang Ye paused for a moment, then looked down, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. His expression was cold. “What could possibly be wrong? You don’t seriously think a single training match could break me, do you?”
He spoke naturally, carrying his usual air of arrogance—aside from the lingering redness and swelling in his eyes.
Xiao Pai gave him a knowing look. “You don’t have to act tough in front of me. My brother stayed behind to comfort you last night, didn’t he?”
“……”
Hearing that, Sang Ye couldn’t help but recall the way Tan Mo had comforted him. At the time, he’d been too caught up in his frustration and sadness to notice just how…
How intimate their actions had been.
His gaze instinctively drifted toward Tan Mo’s chair—but as if burned, he quickly looked away.
From now on, he wouldn’t be able to look directly at that gaming chair ever again.
“That didn’t happen.” Sang Ye stubbornly refused to admit anything.
Xiao Pai sighed, then nodded in mock acceptance. “I see. I’m simply not worthy of stepping into your inner world.”
Sang Ye smirked. “Glad you understand.”
Xiao Pai: “…Fine, you win.”
When Tan Mo returned, everyone had already changed into their new uniforms.
Hu Fu patted his stomach, hesitated for a moment, then forced a smile. “Is this really the largest size? The new uniforms feel a bit… snug.”
Xiao Pai glanced over and burst out laughing, mercilessly pointing at the flame emblem on Hu Fu’s stomach. “Anyone who didn’t know better would think our new uniforms were designed to be skin-tight. That flame on your stomach? It’s got a full 3D effect now! But come on, Lao Hu, is this really the uniform’s fault? Don’t blame the designer—look at Bai Mao, his fits just fine.”
Hu Fu’s face turned red as he self-consciously covered his stomach.
Everyone’s gaze shifted to Sang Ye.
The summer championship had marked WLG’s rise from rock bottom, so the designer had chosen a red-and-white color scheme for the new uniform to symbolize the rebirth of a phoenix. The base was still white, while the red represented the fiery flames. On the young teenager, the uniform looked vibrant and striking.
Although Sang Ye wasn’t particularly tall, his proportions were perfect, making his figure appear refined and lean. The uniform fit him just right—slightly loose, with the sleeves revealing his slender, fair-skinned arms, and the fabric around his waist draping softly.
Xiao Pai clicked his tongue and reached out to pinch him. “Look at this tiny waist—”
A sharp smack echoed through the room.
“Brother!” Xiao Pai clutched his reddened hand, furious. “Why did you hit me?!”
Tan Mo walked to the table, set down his cup, and replied without a hint of remorse. “Sorry. My hand slipped.”
“???” Xiao Pai felt deeply humiliated. Not only had he been hit, but his intelligence was also being insulted. He refused to let it go. “How does a hand slip that hard?! It’s not like I was touching you! I was touching White Hair! Was that really worth a ‘hand slip’? Huh? Say something!”
But Tan Mo said nothing.
Only Yu Haotian shook his head with a knowing yet unspoken understanding.
Honestly, Xiao Pai might as well have just touched Tan Mo instead.
“Since the uniforms seem to fit, we’ll go with these for now. Let me know if you need a size adjustment.” With that, Yu Haotian turned to leave.
“Eh? But my size…” Hu Fu hesitated.
Without even turning back, Yu Haotian waved dismissively. “That’s the largest size. I did my best.”
Hu Fu’s shoulders slumped as Xiao Pai burst into laughter.
Tan Mo was about to change when he noticed Sang Ye staring at him, completely absorbed.
He turned his head slightly and met his gaze. “What is it?”
Sang Ye quickly lowered his head and started tidying up the table. “Nothing.”
Tan Mo studied him for two seconds before shifting his gaze away. But the moment he lifted the hem of his shirt, Sang Ye’s sharp, eager eyes snapped back to him.
Tan Mo let go of his shirt and asked directly, “What exactly do you want?”
Sang Ye looked at him, his expression a little expectant. “Just change.”
“…” Tan Mo picked up his uniform. “I’ll change in the next room.”
“No need! Just change here.” Sang Ye blurted out. “We’re all men—what are you afraid of?”
Tan Mo smirked. “I’m afraid of little perverts.”
“…” Sang Ye immediately turned his head away and pursed his lips. “I’m not.”
He was simply reminded of how Tan Mo had looked last time by the pool.
Talk’s physique was too good—nothing like someone who sat in front of a computer all day. It made him want to steal another glance while the man was changing.
It really was just a casual glance, not intentional staring.
Tan Mo meant what he said—he was about to leave when he reached out and lightly knocked on that sulky, white-haired head, teasing, “Do you think you can just look at an esports model for free? You can look, but you have to pay.”
“…” Sang Ye was speechless. He shot Tan Mo a sidelong glance, his expression rebellious. “I don’t even want to look.”
Tan Mo raised an eyebrow and stepped around the chair, ready to leave.
But Sang Ye quickly grabbed his phone and blocked Tan Mo’s way, head down as he operated the screen. “But the way you said it makes it sound like I can’t afford it. I hate when people underestimate how rich I am… Go on, name your price.”
“…”
Tan Mo obviously wasn’t going to name a price. But he also didn’t tease the boy any further. Instead, he simply stood by the table and started changing.
Worried that Tan Mo would call him a little pervert again, Sang Ye took the opportunity to get up and throw away some wrappers.
However, as he passed behind Tan Mo, he couldn’t help but slow his steps, his gaze drifting over involuntarily.
At that moment, Xiaopai suddenly poked the love handles on Hu Fu’s waist. Humiliated, Hu Fu launched an immediate counterattack, and the two started bickering like middle schoolers, turning the practice room into a chaotic mess.
But Sang Ye didn’t pay attention to any of that. His eyes were fixed solely on Tan Mo’s back.
Tan Mo was much taller than him. Under the sunlight streaming in from the window, the muscles on his back were well-defined, his skin a cool, pale shade—like a sculpture carved from jade. Yet, it didn’t lack the raw power of masculinity. When he lowered his head slightly, the movement caused his spine to subtly protrude. Following the natural flow downward, there was his waist—lean, without an ounce of excess fat. It tapered into a perfect V-shape, but unlike his own, Tan Mo’s waist exuded strength and aggression…
As Sang Ye continued staring, he unknowingly blushed.
When he had seen Tan Mo’s physique by the pool before, it had been purely admiration and amazement. But now, looking back, an unfamiliar emotion stirred within him.
He thought—
It must be envy.
The kind of envy that made him want to reach out and touch.
At that moment, Xiao Pai dodged Hu Fu’s attack, stepping aside and accidentally crashing into Sang Ye, who had been standing still, lost in thought.
Caught off guard, Sang Ye stumbled forward, his face smacking directly against Tan Mo’s bare back. His hands instinctively grabbed onto Tan Mo’s waist for balance.
“…”
“…”
Tan Mo froze, feeling the sudden warmth and softness pressing against his back. At the same time, he noticed the small, tense hands gripping his waist.
Meanwhile, Xiao Pai and Hu Fu, still caught up in their playful scuffle, were laughing and messing around—completely oblivious to the sudden shift in atmosphere just a few feet behind them.
Sang Ye’s heart pounded like a drum, but he didn’t even dare to breathe too heavily.
As expected, Talk’s waist was as firm as it looked—hard like stone—yet his skin was incredibly smooth, with a noticeably cool temperature.
Sang Ye’s delicate palm rested against it, and before he realized it, he gave a small, unconscious rub.
Tan Mo’s eyes darkened instantly, and a barely audible, low breath escaped his lips. He spoke, his voice tinged with something unreadable, “Sang Ye.”
Sang Ye’s fingers froze, but he still didn’t let go. A sudden, inexplicable guilt flickered through him, making his voice shrink. “…What?”
Tan Mo didn’t hold back as he pointed out, “That costs extra.”
“…”
Sang Ye’s face burned scarlet. He turned his head up defiantly, tilting his face to rest his sharp little chin against Tan Mo’s back.
The slight prickle made Tan Mo instinctively tense.
Sang Ye, trying to summon some dignity, put on a front of defiance. “I… I didn’t do anything! But if you insist… Hmph! Name your price! You think I can’t afford it?”
Maybe to prove his wealth—or simply out of reckless bravado—Sang Ye didn’t just touch his waist. He boldly slid his hand forward, pressing against Tan Mo’s abs.
“Tsk.” A spark of irritation flashed across Tan Mo’s face as he immediately grabbed Sang Ye’s wandering hand, yanking him aside. His tone, for once, carried a rare trace of frustration. “Do you think a man’s waist is something you can just touch at will?”
For some reason, Sang Ye wasn’t afraid of this version of Tan Mo. Instead, his gaze drifted downward, catching sight of the faint flush creeping up Tan Mo’s neck.
Realizing that the redness was because of him, Sang Ye felt an odd mix of embarrassment and triumph.
He looked up and cheekily stuck out the tip of his tongue. “Bleh.”
Tan Mo’s expression froze.
With an exasperated huff, he flung Sang Ye’s hand away.
D*mn it. Now he finally understood what people meant by flirting with no intention of following through.
Tan Mo pulled on his shirt at twice his usual speed, tugging the hem into place before issuing a stern warning:
“Be careful.”
Maybe he had been too lenient with Sang Ye all this time—so much so that the kid had no idea how dangerous people could be and was now getting cheeky with him.
But even if Sang Ye eventually figured it out, what difference would it make? Tan Mo could only curse silently to himself.
D*mn oblivious little straight boy…
….
Since the off-season had ended, there was an extra training session scheduled for Saturday.
The coach announced that they would be reviewing yesterday afternoon’s China-Korea friendship scrim.
However, the moment he actually opened the replay, he fell into silence.
The match was an absolute mess—so disastrous that there was hardly any point in discussing it.
For the first time, Sang Ye got to watch the training match from an omniscient perspective. Seeing himself and Gal jump off the rooftop one after the other, only for Gal to shoot him mid-air, he clenched the pen in his hand.
The coach hadn’t even said anything yet, but Sang Ye already felt a growing sense of shame and discomfort.
After watching for a while, the coach rubbed his forehead, opened his mouth as if to speak, then let out a long sigh before finally saying:
“Learn from this moving forward. Sometimes, when you’re about to drop down, you can’t see if there’s a gun on the ground. If your positioning is bad, it can lead to situations like this. So when contesting a drop, it’s best to maintain some distance from your opponents—ideally, one or two buildings apart…”
“I’m not making excuses, but this was a special case. Gal was actively hunting for fights right from the start, and Song just happened to run into him. Sang Ye, you also need to be more mindful. It’s clear that after the first round, you lost your composure. One bad game isn’t a big deal—even HK, the North American team that won back-to-back world championships, has had games where they got wiped immediately after landing. But they never let a previous round’s failure affect the next one. Take this scrim as a lesson.”
Sang Ye lowered his head and nodded.
As a rookie, he lacked experience—especially the experience of failure—so he often struggled to adjust his mentality in time.
—”Did losing the gunfight in the third round also come down to mentality?”
A calm, unhurried voice suddenly sounded from the dimly lit corner of the conference room.
Everyone turned to look.
An Liu sat in the shadows, a faintly ambiguous smile on his face. “In the third round, Tan Shen and Song trapped three opponents inside a building. After dodging a thrown explosive, Song immediately pulled back to reposition, yet he was still eliminated by Gal.”
The coach frowned. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
“I’ll be blunt, then,” An Liu said. “WLG claims that starting positions are based purely on skill. But given Song’s current level and condition, he is still far from being able to go head-to-head with Gal. If Song plays, BTF will see WLG as having a weak link—one they can exploit with precision targeting.”
A wave of murmurs rippled through the room.
An Liy was openly questioning Song’s ability to be in the starting lineup—and it seemed like he wanted to take him down.
Sang Ye remained expressionless as he stared toward the corner, his gaze darkening slightly. “If I’m not good enough, are you saying you should take my spot?”
“That’s an interesting question,” An Liu replied with a smile. “Why is it that your first thought wasn’t about your substitute—E Lan?”
Sang Ye hesitated for a moment before turning to look at E Lan.
“The reality is, E Lan is actually more qualified to start than you,” An Liu continued, his smile widening. “Like Gal, he plays with a low-DPI arm-aiming style. If they face each other in the Intercontinental tournament, he at least has a chance to land a direct shot. But you? You’d just be the team’s weak link. Oh, by the way, you might not know this, but last night, E Lan ran into Gal in Korean server ranked matches—and he solo-killed him. The recording is still there.”
The atmosphere in the room instantly grew unbearably tense.
The coach’s expression darkened significantly.
Ever since the club decided to terminate An Liu’s contract, his behavior had become increasingly reckless—almost to the point of being completely out of control.
He had been furious for days over Tan Mo’s decision back then, but now, looking at the situation, it was clear that Tan Mo had been right. “An Liu, you—”
“As the captain, I haven’t even said anything yet…” Tan Mo closed the notebook in front of him with one hand, lifted his gaze toward the corner, and spoke with a hint of mockery in his expression. “Are you questioning my leadership?”
An Liu flinched slightly, retreating deeper into the shadows, his face clouded with displeasure.
Even though Tan Mo was only the captain of the first team, for some reason, his words carried more weight than even the coach’s—and were far more intimidating.
An Liu knew that the man in front of him was the direct reason he was being forced out of the club, but even so, he didn’t dare act out in Tan Mo’s presence.
Sang Ye pressed his lips together, his jawline tensing. In the end, his pen came down sharply, puncturing a hole in the paper. His voice was crisp and cold:
“The starting lineup was officially reported and confirmed. Substitutes only play when the starters are unfit for competition. I won the PCL Summer Championship with this team, proving that I meet the qualifications to start in the Intercontinental tournament. If my mistakes cost the team during the tournament, I have no objections to E Lan stepping in. But for now, I am the one holding this position. If you’re questioning me over a single practice match, then you’re no different from the online haters. And I have no reason to step down just because of your doubts.”
An Liu’s face darkened at having his true intentions exposed, though hidden in the shadows, it was hard to tell.
Many others turned their gaze toward Sang Ye, an unspoken admiration flickering in their eyes.
The young man sat upright, his posture unwavering—neither arrogant nor submissive. He didn’t resort to grandstanding, didn’t lash out in anger, and didn’t try to justify himself unnecessarily. Instead, he responded to the challenge with clear and logical reasoning.
Despite being known for his usual quiet and detached demeanor—and his occasional public outbursts when provoked—when it truly mattered, Sang Ye never faltered. His presence commanded trust.
So really, the number of books one has read is not a true measure of a person’s character or quality.
The coach smirked slightly, just about to say something to move past the topic.
Suddenly, Sang Ye shot up from his seat and, with a cold expression, announced, “Meeting adjourned!”
Everyone: “……”
Since when did Sang Ye have the authority to adjourn meetings? That was the coach’s decision.
The coach looked at him, speechless: “……”
Was the kid getting a little too into his role?
…
Because of Sang Ye’s forceful “Meeting adjourned!”, the coach cleared his throat and, surprisingly, actually dismissed the entire room.
However, the moment they returned to the practice room, Sang Ye suddenly slid into his chair, sprawled over the desk, rolled twice, kicked his foot in frustration, and whined in a dramatically exaggerated tone:
“I don’t want to give up my spot! I won’t give up my spot! This is so frustrating~!”
Xiao Pai, who was in the middle of stuffing a biscuit into his mouth: “……”
Hu Fu, who had just finished a burpee and was still holding his hands above his head: “……”
Tan Mo, who was the last to enter the room, stood behind Sang Ye’s chair and casually reached out to tug at the boy’s flushed ear. “So you were just putting on a show back there?”
…
A few minutes before clocking out, while Tan Mo had stepped out, Xiao Pai pushed off with his foot, gliding over to Sang Ye’s side, and held out a box of biscuits.
Sang Ye, busy practicing in a custom game room, frowned and impatiently shoved it away with his elbow. “No time!”
With Gal’s looming presence ahead and doubts rising within his own team, Sang Ye was beyond frustrated.
If it weren’t for Tan Mo’s guidance last night, he might have stewed in resentment until he made himself sick—depressed to the point of wanting to pack his bags and head back to Shanxi.
Thankfully, Sang Ye had regained his composure today. No matter what An Liu said, it wouldn’t shake him anymore. Instead, it only fueled his innate, relentless drive to improve.
“Honestly,” Xiao Pai, knowing Sang Ye didn’t mean any harm, leaned in closer. “I don’t want you to be replaced either. Playing matches with you is easy. You have no idea how hard it is to get along with E Lan. I’d rather lose a game than be on the same team as him. If we lose, we can just try again next year, but playing with him? That would take ten years off my life.”
Sang Ye frowned again, eyes fixed on the screen. “Is it really that bad?”
Hu Fu let out a “Hey!” toward Xiao Pai, his tone carrying a hint of warning. “You can eat all the biscuits you want, but don’t talk nonsense.”
Xiao Pai rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Don’t listen to An Liu. He’s already on his way out—what good can he possibly have to say? He’s just here to stir shit… though luckily, not for us! Look, it’s just Gal. Do you think our Dad Tan is just for show? What are the chances you’ll actually face Gal head-on? Your gunplay is definitely better than mine. If I ran into Gal and failed to eliminate him, would that make me the weak link? So stop putting so much pressure on yourself. As long as your mindset is right, there’s no way you’ll become a liability. Gal isn’t just your problem—he’s the whole team’s problem.”
“We’re not the same.” Sang Ye, still focused on the game, fired another ten-round burst at a hole in the door, completely unfazed.
“Oh?” Xiao Pai raised a brow. “How are we different? You’re the rising star, and I’m just yesterday’s news?”
“If you go down, there’s still Talk.” Sang Ye replied coolly. “If Talk goes down, I’m the only hope left.”
Not just Xiao Pai—Hu Fu, who had been packing up, also paused.
At the doorway, Tan Mo lowered his gaze slightly, the corner of his lips curling into a faint smile.
“D*mn… So you’re saying you’re gonna be my brother’s strongest shield, huh?” Xiao Pai let out a defeated sigh, closed the biscuit box, and rolled away. “We’re really not the same.”
But the very next second—
Xiao Pai rolled right back. “Hey, Bai Mao, you do know my brother has the final say on whether you’re benched or not, right?”
Sang Ye responded nonchalantly, “Mm.”
There was one thing that set this club apart from others—the captain had significant authority, to the point where even the coach often consulted Talk before making key decisions.
Xiao Pai muttered under his breath, scheming, “You and my brother are close. It wouldn’t be hard to pull some strings, y’know, get him to—”
Before he could finish, a folder smacked him on the head.
“Ow!” Xiao Pai clutched his head and turned around.
And there, without anyone noticing, Tan Mo had already returned.
Feeling guilty, Xiao Pai quickly backed away, grabbed his canvas bag, and left with Hu Fu.
Tan Mo placed the folder back on the table and said, “Don’t listen to his nonsense.”
Sang Ye, who could pause the custom game at any time, pulled down one side of his headset and looked at Tan Mo. “What?”
Tan Mo repeated, “Everything here follows the rules.”
“Oh.” Sang Ye nodded. “I get it. I wasn’t planning on pulling any strings.”
Tan Mo chuckled. “Do you even know what pulling strings means?”
“Stop underestimating me.” Sang Ye lifted his chin proudly, showing he understood perfectly. “It means giving you benefits.”
“What kind of benefits?”
“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”
Tan Mo lowered his gaze, picked up the folder again, and tossed it into the drawer. Then, in a quiet voice, he said, “What if what I want… is you?”
In an instant, Sang Ye felt as if his heart had turned into molten lava, shifting and churning beneath the surface. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could make a sound, a faint blush had already spread across his face. Still, he stubbornly held his ground. “If that’s the case, then… then I’ll just strip and sleep with you.”
Tan Mo suddenly turned his face toward him. “Do you even know how?”
Meeting those indifferent, peach-blossom-shaped eyes, Sang Ye’s heart pounded violently in his chest. His face burned crimson, but he refused to back down. “Would you accept this kind of deal?”
Tan Mo stared at him for a long moment before suddenly smirking. With a thud, he shut the drawer. “That depends.”
Sang Ye asked, “Depends on what?”
Tan Mo stood up and pushed his chair neatly under the desk. “Depends on whether you can give me what I really want.”
Sang Ye: “…”
As Tan Mo walked past, he reached out and ruffled Sang Ye’s hair. “You say things like ‘strip and sleep with me’ so casually… Be more mindful, puppy. Don’t practice too late—go home early.”
Sang Ye pursed his lips. “Oh.”
…
The next morning, under the organization and escort of Yu Haotian, the members of WLG’s first team crossed the river together.
The promotional video for the Intercontinental Tournament was being filmed in batches, with each team shooting their segments separately. Later, the clips would be edited together. However, if multiple teams happened to be available at the same time, the event organizers would arrange for them to collaborate on a few group shots.
This time, the shoot was set under the Oriental Pearl Tower. It had already been confirmed that three teams would be filming throughout the day: WLG, Catch22, and BTF.
Upon arrival, the players were ushered into a makeshift dressing room to get styled.
Xiao Pai even requested that the makeup artist apply a layer of powder on his face. “This way, my skin will look smoother on camera.”
The masked makeup artist chuckled.
Sang Ye’s white hair was relatively easy to style—just a few quick blasts with the hairdryer, and he already looked effortlessly cool and fresh. Finishing ahead of the others, he went into the changing room to put on his team uniform.
When he came out, he happened to pass by Tan Mo.
Tan Mo was still seated in his chair, being blasted by the powerful airflow of a Dyson hairdryer.
Catching sight of Sang Ye through the mirror, Tan Mo gestured for him to come over.
Sang Ye walked up to him.
Tan Mo handed him a bottle of sunscreen. “We’ll be shooting outdoors later.”
“Thanks.” Sang Ye took it and began applying it while facing the mirror.
However, his technique was rather crude—he squeezed out a large dollop and started smearing it all over his face. The more he rubbed, the thicker it got. His expression gradually became one of confusion as his face turned unnaturally white, as if he had painted on a layer of plaster.
“You put on too much.” Even Tan Mo was speechless. Just then, his hairstyling was completed, and the stylist set aside the blow dryer.
Sang Ye’s face was naturally small, so he really didn’t need that much sunscreen.
Tan Mo was just about to stand up and help him.
Sang Ye let out a casual “Oh,” then, without hesitation, wiped the excess sunscreen from his hands onto Tan Mo’s cheek.
“……”
Sang Ye didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with what he did. Moving naturally, he scraped even more sunscreen off his own face and spread it across Tan Mo’s.
Not a single drop wasted.
The hairstylist standing nearby couldn’t help but laugh, thinking to himself that the captain and his team members must have a really close relationship.
Since Sang Ye had moved quickly, he was the first to step outside with his phone in hand.
As he walked along the edge of the lobby’s glass curtain wall, a man approached from the opposite direction.
Tall and thin, with dark circles under his eyes.
It was Fool.
Seeing Fool again, Sang Ye’s feelings were different this time.
Previously, he had only considered Fool a formidable opponent. But after learning about Fool’s past—how he had lost two years yet still managed to fight his way back onto the Summer Championship stage—Sang Ye couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration.
Fool noticed him and greeted him. “Hey, Song. You’re pretty quick.”
“Not much to prepare.” Sang Ye hesitated to leave right away.
Fool seemed to have something to say, so the two of them moved to the side, leaning against the railing.
Fool said, “I saw the China-Korea Friendship Match online. Hope you don’t let it get to you. To be blunt, trying to shake an opponent’s confidence before a match is just one of Gal’s usual tactics.”
Sang Ye instinctively glanced at Fool’s right hand but quickly looked away out of courtesy. “It’s fine. That lunatic? I don’t even bother with him.”
“Guess Gen Z players all have nerves of steel now.” Fool smiled slightly before adding, “Honestly, you’re already better than your captain was back then.”
“Huh?” Sang Ye was momentarily confused. But the moment Talk was mentioned, his thoughts began racing. “Are you saying Gal used to go after Talk about his age?”
Fool sighed and shook his head. “Seems like Talk told you everything—things he probably should and shouldn’t have said.”
“Yeah. He always minded the age thing, so Gal’s taunts hit him particularly hard.”
Sang Ye blinked. “…What do you mean by ‘hit hard’?”
Talk was such an outstanding and powerful player—there was no way Gal could have affected him. Talk never even acknowledged him.
“He never told you?” Fool was momentarily surprised, then his smile deepened. “I remember it vividly. That day, after Gal crushed him, Talk went back to the dorm, shut the balcony door, and made a phone call. I happened to be smoking in the bathroom, and the wind carried his words straight to me.”
Sang Ye, intrigued, asked, “What did you hear?”
Fool raised his hand, mimicking a phone held to his ear. He adjusted his expression, cleared his throat, and reenacted the moment from back then:
“Dad, I don’t want to play professionally anymore.”
Sang Ye: “……”
His idol shattered in an instant.
…
The WLG team finally emerged from the makeup room.
Tan Mo walked at the back of the group and spotted Sang Ye standing alone by the glass curtain wall from a distance.
As the team approached, Sang Ye silently fell in step with them, positioning himself beside Tan Mo.
Tan Mo said, “You’re about to see Gal soon.”
Sang Ye: “Mm.”
Tan Mo teased, “Still gonna cry?”
A light flush crept onto Sang Ye’s face, but unlike before, he didn’t react with embarrassment or try to escape. Instead, he lifted the corners of his lips into a shallow, forced smile. “What about you?”
“What?”
“Are you nervous to see him?”
Tan Mo let out a short laugh, exuding confidence. “Why would I be nervous? He’s the one who should be nervous when he sees me.”
Sang Ye tilted his head and looked at Tan Mo.
Tan Mo found his stare odd and looked back. “What?”
Sang Ye raised both hands to cup his face, letting his cheeks droop down as he squinted his eyes, making a crying face. Even his voice carried a fake sobbing tone: “Dad, I don’t want to play professionally anymore.”
“……”
Tan Mo abruptly stopped walking, his expression changing.
Completely oblivious to his impending doom, Sang Ye cupped his face and leaned in closer. “Dad, I don’t want to play professionally anymore. I should just go home and be a farmer instead….”
A rare flush crept across Tan Mo’s usually pale face. He reached out, hands hovering near Sang Ye’s neck, before shoving him behind a nearby support pillar. “Come here.”
Sang Ye had been having fun—until Tan Mo pressed him against the wall. Realizing that his view was blocked from both sides, making escape impossible, he finally sensed the shift in atmosphere. The weight of Tan Mo’s presence bore down on him, wiping the playful grin from his face as a flicker of unease surfaced.
“What… are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” Tan Mo echoed mockingly, his flushed face twisting into a smirk. He lifted Sang Ye’s chin. “Didn’t expect you to call me ‘Dad’ so sweetly. Since you can say it so well, say it a few more times.”
Sang Ye pressed his lips together. “……”
“Hurry up.” Tan Mo urged. “You’re not leaving until I’m satisfied.”
“……”