This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
Chapter 62 – It’s Annoying.
Sang Ye hurried back to the practice room, making quite a commotion as he dashed to his chair. The noise was enough to make Xiao Pai and Hoof turn their heads.
Xiao Pai asked, “Got a vengeful ghost chasing you or something?”
Sang Ye ignored him and put on his headphones.
But he barely sat still for two seconds, arms crossed neatly in front of him like an elementary school student, before he yanked them off again and blurted out, “I’m packing up and heading back to Shanxi. You guys have fun on your own.”
The other two: “???”
Xiao Pai dropped his playful grin, sitting up straight. “Bai Mao, don’t tell me a debt collector finally caught up to you?”
“Stop looking down on me. I have more money than I know what to do with. Why the hell would I have debt collectors?”
Sang Ye grabbed his phone and made a break for it—only to run straight into his “debt collector” at the door.
Without looking up, he moved left.
—Tan Mo moved left.
He shifted right.
—Tan Mo shifted right.
Sang Ye spotted an opening and tried to slip past at an angle.
Tan Mo casually caught him by the nape of his neck with one hand, pushing him back two steps and firmly pressing him down into his chair.
“Leaving early?”
Sang Ye glanced at the time on the computer screen and mumbled, “There’s only three minutes left…”
“No excuses.” Captain Tan had suddenly decided to be strict today. “Even if there’s only three seconds left, you stay put.”
“Brother, don’t stop him,” Xiao Pai waved Tan Mo over, grinning mischievously as he spoke on Sang Ye’s behalf. “He’s packing up and heading back to Shanxi.”
“……”
Sang Ye shot him a fierce glare.
He hated Xiao Pai.
Tan Mo glanced at Sang Ye and patted his shoulder. “Planning to catch the next high-speed train and flee the city overnight?”
Sang Ye: “…Just joking.”
Tan Mo: “Me too.”
“……”
Sang Ye sat quietly, waiting for the three minutes to pass.
The moment the time was up, he stood up.
—“Stay behind for a bit.”
Sang Ye sat back down.
Behind him, Xiao Pai and Hoof happily packed up their things and left.
The room returned to silence.
Tan Mo stared at his computer, not looking away. “I called you earlier in the hallway. Why didn’t you answer?”
Sang Ye picked at his fingernails for a while, running through several excuses in his mind. He hesitated, then mumbled, “You would’ve laughed at me… I didn’t want to get caught by you.”
“Why would I laugh at you?” Tan Mo let go of the mouse and turned toward him, speaking in an unhurried tone. “Just because you forgot that the Intercontinental Tournament is being held in our city this time, so the team is staying at the base instead of a hotel—meaning you went out of your way to request a room with me?”
“……”
Sang Ye lowered his head.
Tan Mo laying it out like that was basically the equivalent of dragging him into the spotlight for a public execution.
Sang Ye bit his lower lip, mustered his courage, and looked up. “Isn’t… isn’t that kind of funny?”
Tan Mo looked at him for a moment before finally saying, “A little funny.”
“……” Sang Ye shot to his feet, ready to leave.
Tan Mo grabbed his wrist and pulled him back into his seat. Resting his head on one hand, he half-lowered his gaze, the corners of his peach-blossom eyes carrying a faint smile. “Puppy, don’t you think you’re a little clingy?”
“Can’t I be?” Sang Ye furrowed his brows, puffing out his cheeks indignantly.
“It’s not that you can’t…” Tan Mo lowered his gaze, deep in thought, absentmindedly rubbing his fingers against Sang Ye’s delicate wrist. “I just can’t help but wonder… do you act this way with others too? Would not being able to share a room with someone else weigh on you for an entire summer?”
Sang Ye blinked, momentarily lost in thought.
Actually, no.
His parents and relatives always described him as independent—otherwise, they wouldn’t have felt comfortable letting him live so far from home.
His friends thought he was aloof. While he was loyal, he didn’t keep in constant contact, and he never had a friend close enough to be glued to all the time.
But not being able to share a room with Talk had stuck with him. As the tournament approached, he had even rushed to reserve a room in advance.
During the summer season, he had simply wanted to be around his idol more. Since they weren’t that close back then, he had wished they could spend all their time together. But this time?
Of course, he still wanted to be close—wanted to spend as much time as possible with Talk—but there was something more this time. A subtle, nagging feeling—he wanted to be even closer, to understand him even more.
Talk was an exception to him.
Realizing this sent a wave of panic through Sang Ye. The sudden clarity startled him, leaving him with an overwhelming urge to hide in a corner.
Tan Mo lifted his eyes, his gaze carrying a hint of encouragement. “Is that the case? Hmm?”
Sang Ye swallowed nervously and forced out a response: “What about it?”
Tan Mo’s eyes narrowed slightly. On the surface, he remained unreadable, but only he could feel the rapid thudding of his own heartbeat.
He sat up, but his fingers still held onto Sang Ye’s wrist. “I just wanted to ask… If you’re not interested in men, then when it comes to me, is it…”
Sang Ye jolted back so fast his chair nearly tipped over. He barely managed to catch himself by gripping the desk, feet planted firmly on the floor. His chest rose and fell sharply as he stammered, “No exceptions!”
Tan Mo’s hand was left hanging in the air for a moment before he slowly withdrew it.
The corner of his lips twitched slightly. “Is that so?”
Sang Ye wanted to take a sip of water to calm his nerves, but when he hastily unscrewed his thermos, he suddenly remembered—he hadn’t filled it earlier. Staring at the empty bottom of the cup, he frowned in frustration and, for the 10,086th time, emphasized, “I really don’t like men. I hope you don’t overthink this.”
Sang Ye was the type who would keep up appearances even in the face of death—when it came to defense, he was always meticulous.
Tan Mo turned back to his computer and continued working. “I definitely overthought it… Virgo, you know, sensitive mind.”
Sang Ye’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly responded, “I can explain. I went to find the manager earlier because I thought—”
Tan Mo cut him off. “Just don’t do things that make me overthink in the future.”
Sang Ye paused for a moment and looked at Tan Mo’s profile. His expression was unreadable, his features calm and distant.
“…Okay,” Sang Ye said, standing up. “If there’s nothing else… I’ll head back now.”
Tan Mo asked, “You’re not going back to Shanxi, right?”
“Huh?” Sang Ye seemed a little slow to react, taking a second before realizing Tan Mo was teasing him. “…No.”
As he walked toward the door, he suddenly stopped, turned back, and placed his thermos back on the table. But after taking a few steps away, he turned around again to screw the lid on.
It wasn’t until he stepped out into the hallway that he realized—his thermos was still clutched against his chest.
But he really didn’t want to go back a third time.
Frustrated, Sang Ye smacked his forehead.
What the hell was he doing?
Meanwhile, Tan Mo sat alone in the practice room when Yu Haotian messaged him on WeChat.
YuNiHuanXi: [This kid is killing me with laughter.]
Tan Mo stared at the message, unmoving, lost in thought.
What was so funny?
The kid had come all this way alone, without a single family member by his side. When he met someone who treated him well, his wholehearted and reciprocating nature naturally made him want to get closer.
Even if that weren’t the case, wasn’t it normal for a young boy to enjoy spending time with an older brother he admired?
Tan Mo realized he was being a bit of a self-absorbed fool.
Just because someone looked at him a few more times, he thought—
Why doesn’t he look at anyone else, only me?
—He must be into me.
Just because Sang Ye wanted to share a room with him—
—He must be into me.
Just because he liked to act spoiled in Tan Mo’s embrace—
—He must be into me.
Tan Mo actually found himself ridiculous.
Ignoring Yu Haotian’s message, he opened NetEase Cloud Music.
His playlist was full of Bach and Paganini, but today, after scrolling through it, he suddenly felt like listening to something different.
So he typed into the search bar:
[Sad people shouldn’t listen to slow songs.]
…
The next day, Sang Ye and Tan Mo headed to the Media Tower for a pre-scheduled endorsement shoot.
The timing was a bit late, and this was also their last endorsement project before the Intercontinental Tournament.
Yu Haotian accompanied them, and the three of them shared a business van.
Throughout the ride, Tan Mo kept his jacket draped over himself, eyes closed in rest. Whether he was actually asleep or just pretending, no one could tell.
Sang Ye sat across the aisle from Tan Mo, not making any effort to start a conversation. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, hunched over, flipping through a large, hardcover jewelry catalog.
From the front seat, Yu Haotian gave them a general briefing. “Today, you’ll be shooting for three new collections. The first two are individual shoots, one for each of you. The final one, the Wisdom Fruit series, will be a joint shoot… Song, you can see it in the catalog, right?”
“Yeah,” Sang Ye responded without looking up.
He had just turned to the Wisdom Fruit section, but every necklace and piece of jewelry featured snake motifs. He didn’t understand why. If it were before, he would have immediately asked Tan Mo about it, but now…
Biting his finger, Sang Ye stubbornly decided to read the small text on his own.
Finally, after rubbing his eyes and fighting off drowsiness, he figured it out.
The so-called Wisdom Fruit was actually the Forbidden Fruit. The snake represented Satan in disguise. The design concept was inspired by the biblical story of Eve and Adam, who gained human desires after tasting the forbidden fruit. It was a collection with a hint of dark allure.
Yu Haotian said, “This catalog is too heavy, so I only brought one. Song, once you’re done, pass it to Talk.”
Sang Ye gave a casual oh, unsure whether Tan Mo was actually asleep.
He closed the catalog and set the thick book on the floor, leaning it against Tan Mo’s seat. Then, he reclined in his chair, turning his head toward the window.
About three minutes passed.
From across the aisle, the sound of pages flipping broke the silence.
Sang Ye pressed his lips together, his sharp jawline tensing with quiet stubbornness as he stared out at the towering skyscrapers rushing past the window.
The scenery he once longed for now only filled him with irritation.
…
Upon arriving at the photography studio on the 30th floor, the staff greeted them warmly and professionally.
Since this was a fashion shoot—unlike the rough-and-tumble promotional videos shot with a bunch of sweaty teammates—every detail, from makeup to the placement of a single pin on their outfits, was meticulously refined.
Sang Ye was seated in a chair and subjected to a full thirty-minute makeup session. By the end of it, he was already getting restless.
The makeup artist, a young woman wearing a mask, smiled with crescent-shaped eyes and teased, “Getting impatient already? We still have to style your hair. Now, open your eyes and look up.”
When she started applying eyeliner, Sang Ye struggled—his eyes were highly sensitive, and the foreign sensation made him blink uncontrollably. It took five long minutes of trial and error, a frustrating ordeal for both of them.
By the time he finally changed into his outfit and stepped out, his energy bar was already flashing red. Even back when he shot the Mercedes commercial, it hadn’t taken this long.
However, the moment he lifted his head, he realized that everyone in the room was staring at him.
“…”
Normally, Sang Ye dressed in his worn-out team uniform—the kind with frayed cuffs and tattered pant legs. Even without any grooming, he was already strikingly handsome. But today, after the makeup artist’s expert touch, his features remained the same yet appeared significantly more refined, elevating his presence to an almost dazzling level.
The addition of eyeliner gave his deep, dark eyes a trace of allure. Yet, thanks to his naturally fresh, youthful charm, it didn’t appear overly feminine—just mesmerizing.
For the jewelry shoot, they needed to showcase as much of the neck and wrists as possible. Today, Sang Ye wore a relaxed white dress shirt.
The makeup artist quickly stepped forward and unfastened the top two buttons, spreading the collar slightly to reveal his delicate collarbones. She then rolled up his sleeves to expose his forearms.
“Fu Gui, you’re absolutely stunning~” The young woman whispered with a soft laugh, her eyes crinkling in delight.
Sang Ye looked at her in surprise.
A fan.
He had never really considered the fact that his fans could come from all walks of life. The realization felt almost surreal.
“Thank you,” he replied.
Then, from behind the crowd, his gaze landed on Tan Mo, who was seated on a couch.
The man was wearing a suit—but nothing underneath. From the slightly open lapel, the faint contours of his chest muscles were visible.
It was… well, pretty bold.
Sang Ye lowered his head, absentmindedly adjusting the edges of his shirt. After a moment, he sneaked another glance, only to find that Tan Mo was still watching him.
Who knew what he was looking at or how long he had been staring?
Sang Ye lightly pressed his lips together. From last night until now, a faint trace of happiness finally surfaced in his heart.
At that moment, Tan Mo lowered his head again, resting his chin on his hand as he idly scrolled through his phone.
Sang Ye subtly furrowed his brows, absentmindedly wrinkling the corner of his shirt with his fingers.
Just then, the photographer walked in to call them over. The moment he saw Sang Ye and Tan Mo, he gasped dramatically, showering them with exaggerated praise.
“Oh my god, oh my god! How can people as good-looking as you two even exist? You’ve completely shattered my stereotypes about gaming addicts!”
“Every angle is perfect, just like movie stars. I was honestly worried about shooting two guys, but now I have no doubt it’ll turn out amazing!”
“Come on, come on, let’s head to the studio. Just looking at you both, my inspiration is already overflowing like a fountain!”
“You two are practically a match made in heaven.”
Sang Ye didn’t miss that last line: “???”
…
Inside the photography studio, the shoot proceeded methodically.
Once their individual shots were completed, a staff member brought over a jewelry box and opened it, revealing a set of necklaces and accessories from the “Garden of Wisdom” collection.
After the two of them put on the pieces, the photographer instructed them to stand together.
Both had performed smoothly up to this point, but for some reason, they suddenly started getting stuck.
The photographer, assisted by an assistant, switched lenses and looked at the two men in front of him. Noticing the awkward distance between them, he dramatically waved his hands.
“Closer, closer! You two are standing so far apart you could build a second Hongqiao Airport between you! The theme of this set is ‘Wisdom’s Fruit’—in plain terms, temptation. You need chemistry. How are you supposed to tempt anyone while standing a mile apart? Song, you’re in charge of seducing the man next to you.”
“?” Sang Ye froze, pointing at himself before waving his hands in protest. “I don’t know how.”
The photographer reassured him, “That’s fine, your face alone is already tempting enough. Talk, you take the lead.”
“……”
Sang Ye stiffly glanced at Tan Mo beside him.
Tan Mo met his gaze. “Move a little closer.”
Sang Ye hesitated before taking a small, cautious step toward him.
Seeing this, Tan Mo had no choice but to close the remaining distance himself. “What are you so afraid of? I’m not going to eat you.”
Sang Ye felt their arms brush against each other. He stared ahead, lost in thought, his brows knitting together more and more. The emotions that had been bottled up since last night suddenly surged to the surface. With a hint of defiance, he muttered, “I’m afraid you’ll overthink it.”
“……” Tan Mo curled his fingers slightly, resisting the sudden urge to ruffle the little pup beside him. Instead, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and said flatly, “Then you’re the one overthinking. I can still tell the difference between work and something else.”
The photographer, standing a bit further away, couldn’t hear their conversation and had already started shooting.
But how could two people at odds with each other possibly create any chemistry or a sense of seduction? They didn’t even have the most basic coordination.
They had already taken nearly a hundred shots, and every single one was unusable—completely lifeless.
Reviewing the latest batch through his camera, the photographer’s earlier enthusiasm had all but vanished. He frowned and shook his head repeatedly. “No, no, no—this is terrible. God, I hate photographing two straight men so much… Alright, let’s try again. Face each other this time. Get as close as possible.”
Sang Ye now stood directly in front of Tan Mo, barely reaching his chin. His nose was nearly touching the man’s bare chest.
But the photographer, like a broken record, kept repeating, “Closer, closer, even closer…”
Sang Ye had no choice but to shuffle another half step forward.
Both of them wore necklaces featuring a snake motif.
Sang Ye’s was a regal gold, while Tan Mo’s was a more understated platinum.
The photographer peered through the viewfinder, analyzing the composition. Something was still off—it was too bland, too uninspired, completely devoid of feeling.
If Sang Ye could bite the pendant, maybe it would add some intrigue.
“Song, try holding the pendant between your lips,” the photographer instructed.
Sang Ye looked utterly shocked. He turned to the photographer in disbelief. “Is… is that really necessary?”
The photographer waved his hands dramatically. “Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!”
Sang Ye’s face grew noticeably warm as he tilted his head up, glancing at Tan Mo from beneath his lashes.
Tan Mo lowered his eyes and met the troubled gaze of the young man before him. “What’s there to be shy about? I won’t look at you.” Then, as if to reassure him further, he added, “And of course, I won’t overthink it either.”
Sang Ye’s expression darkened slightly.
The photographer urged impatiently, “Are you ready yet?”
Sang Ye took a deep breath, stood on tiptoe, and bit down on the snake-shaped pendant resting just above Tan Mo’s collarbone.
Tan Mo visibly tensed.
A warm, soft sensation brushed against his skin. It sent an electric current racing through his nerves, igniting sparks that burst along his extremities.
Under his breath, Tan Mo let out a low, almost inaudible curse—”F*ck!” He tilted his head back sharply, his Adam’s apple moving along the taut lines of his throat. His chiseled jaw clenched, betraying a moment of restraint.
The photographer, overwhelmed by the sheer visual impact of the moment, shouted excitedly, “That’s not what I told you to bite!!!”
But this is even better!!!
The shutter clicked in perfect sync with his exclamation.
The captured image froze in time: a white-haired youth, lashes lowered, serenely holding the necklace between his lips—while the man before him arched back, his partially obscured face steeped in undeniable allure.
A masterpiece, right then and there.
…
They didn’t continue the shoot after that.
Sang Ye excused himself to the restroom. After splashing his flushed face with cold water to physically cool down, he returned to the dressing room.
Tan Mo was sitting on the couch, chatting with Yu Haotian, who stood beside him.
Even though the entire floor was air-conditioned, Tan Mo looked as if he were overheating. Sweat dampened his temples, and the cuffs of his suit jacket were casually rolled up, exposing his pale, slender wrists. His long fingers idly gripped an opened bottle of mineral water.
Hearing the door open, Tan Mo glanced over. When he saw Sang Ye, he let out an amused scoff, shook his head, and took another swig of water before resuming his conversation with Yu Haotian.
“……”
Sang Ye cupped his now-warm face in frustration, lowered his head, and kicked at the smooth, spotless floor tiles.
It was the photographer’s fault for not explaining properly.
Blame him?
…
Before going to bed that night, Sang Ye glanced at his phone. There were a few unread messages, but none were from Tan Mo.
He shoved his phone back under his pillow. Thinking about everything that had happened during the day, he pouted slightly, his eyes growing a little misty.
But then, his left eye started itching even more.
—It had started earlier when he was washing his face, and he had rubbed it with a towel.
Now, he used the back of his hand to rub it again. The more he rubbed, the more addictive it became. He didn’t stop until the discomfort subsided.
Sang Ye turned over, deciding not to think about anything else. The intercontinental tournament was starting next week—he couldn’t afford to be distracted.
The next day, it wasn’t until lunchtime that Xiao Pai noticed something was off.
“Bai Mao, what’s up with your eye? Why is it red?”
“Huh?” Sang Ye used his phone’s front camera to check.
A few red blood vessels were visible in his left eye.
When he looked in the mirror before leaving the house that morning, only the rim of his eye had been slightly red. Now, it seemed worse.
“Probably just from staring at the computer too long.”
He dismissed it and put his phone down.
Xiao Pai quickly lowered his head, avoiding eye contact. “My mom says you shouldn’t look directly at someone with pink eye, or you’ll catch it. You should probably go see a doctor.”
Sang Ye ignored him and continued eating. “Then don’t look.”
Just then, Tan Mo walked past the table, holding a tray.
Sang Ye looked up.
Their eyes met.
Tan Mo didn’t stop walking, but his gaze lingered on Sang Ye’s left eye for a brief moment before moving on.
Sang Ye lowered his eyes and poked at the rice in his bowl with his chopsticks.
Xiao Pai watched Tan Mo’s retreating figure, then leaned in and lowered his voice. “Hey, Bai Mao, why do I feel like there’s something off between you and my brother?”
He had always heard the two of them chatting and joking around, but now that he thought about it, they hadn’t exchanged a single word all morning.
That was rare.
That was practically unheard of.
Sang Ye kept his head down, eating. “What’s off? Everything’s fine.”
“No, no, no, no.” Xiao Pai shook his head knowingly. “I have an eye for detail, and my intuition is freakishly accurate. Nothing escapes my razor-sharp senses.”
Sang Ye’s chopsticks paused midair. He looked up. “Then do you think I usually act like I have feelings for Talk?”
“What kind of feelings?”
“That kind.”
“Oh, hell no!” Xiao Pai replied, completely certain. “You two have the purest form of socialist brotherhood. I’ve never seen a captain and a team member as close as you guys—you might as well be sharing the same pair of pants. Who said you had feelings for my brother?”
Sang Ye stabbed at his rice again, resentment in his tone. “Virgo.”
“Huh?”
…
In the afternoon, just before their scrim started, Yu Haotian walked in and headed straight for Sang Ye’s seat. He studied Sang Ye’s eye and said, “You should get that checked at a hospital. Come on, I’ll take you now.”
Sang Ye wasn’t bothered. He put on his headphones. “It’ll get better on its own.”
They had already missed a day of scrims yesterday. He didn’t want to miss today’s as well.
“It won’t take long, and it’s not a hassle,” Yu Haotian insisted. “Don’t let it get worse. Let’s go.”
But Sang Ye logged into the game as if he hadn’t heard him, looking effortlessly cool as he ignored him.
Yu Haotian sighed helplessly and turned to Tan Mo, spreading his hands in exasperation.
This gesture signified that he had done his best and had no other options.
Tan Mo glanced at the stubborn Sang Ye, then motioned for Yu Haotian to leave.
During the scrim, Sang Ye felt a dry, irritated sensation in his left eye, forcing him to blink frequently.
While maneuvering around a window near a walled house in-game, his eye itched unbearably. In frustration, he went in for a close-range fight, trading half his health to take down the enemy before quickly releasing his mouse to rub his eye.
A low, indifferent voice came through his headset: “Don’t rub your eye with your hand.”
Sang Ye paused, then let go. His usually cold expression softened slightly.
The scrim ended in the evening.
Xiao Pai turned around and asked, “Bai Mao, is your eye okay?”
Hu Fu also chimed in with concern, “D*mn, it looks even redder than it did at noon. Maybe you should get it checked out tonight?”
Without sparing Sang Ye a glance, Tan Mo got up and left.
Sang Ye watched Tan Mo’s figure disappear through the doorway, took a deep breath, and said, “I’m fine.”
That night, Yu Haotian came by again, bringing two tubes of erythromycin eye ointment and some other medicine, reminding Sang Ye to apply it before bed.
His teammates were concerned, and even the team manager personally delivered the medicine. The only one who didn’t check in was Tan Mo.
As the team captain, he hadn’t asked a single question, hadn’t even shown up.
Sang Ye had always thought they were the closest of friends.
Feeling the contrast between people’s warmth and indifference, he thanked the manager, then stuffed the medicine into his drawer.
However, when he returned to his room, he forgot to take the ointment with him. By the time he remembered, he was too lazy to go back for it, so he didn’t apply it before bed.
In the middle of the night, he woke up groaning and rubbing his eye. Still half-asleep, he stumbled to the bathroom, switched on the light, and looked in the mirror—only to be startled by his own reflection.
The whites of his left eye were completely blood-red, as if his eyeball was about to pop out of its socket. When he pressed on it, it made a wet, squelching sound.
Only then did Sang Ye realize how serious the situation was. He hurriedly changed clothes, preparing to go to the hospital.
The first person that came to mind was Tan Mo.
Sang Ye couldn’t drive and had never gone to the hospital alone before. He knew the process was complicated, and finding a hospital in an unfamiliar city in the middle of the night would be incredibly difficult.
But when Sang Ye raised his hand in front of Tan Mo’s room, he found himself unable to knock.
Lowering his head, he leaned back against the wall beside the door, slowly sliding down a few inches, his foot bracing against the floor.
The dim yellow corridor light cast shadows across the young man’s face, softening his usual sharpness, making him look gentler than he had during the day.
Setting aside whether Tan Mo was asleep or not, dragging him out in the middle of the night was undeniably troublesome.
And why was Tan Mo the only person he thought of?
Would it make Tan Mo overthink things?
—“From now on, don’t do things that make me overthink.”
Sang Ye had been mulling over those words all night and finally understood what they meant.
Tan Mo was rejecting his approach.
He didn’t want to play with him anymore.
Straightening up, Sang Ye wiped his eye, picked up his phone, and started booking a car while walking toward the elevator.
Just then, he heard a soft ding from ahead.
He lifted his head—only to meet Tan Mo’s gaze directly.
Tan Mo was dressed in casual clothes, just returning from outside. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Sang Ye.
It was obvious that finding Sang Ye on the second floor in the middle of the night raised many questions, but Tan Mo’s eyes lingered on his left eye for only a moment before he said, “I’ll take you to the hospital.”
…
Sang Ye silently followed Tan Mo downstairs.
Tan Mo glanced at his eye again.
The left eye was likely infected, completely bloodshot. But the faint redness around the right eye’s rim was different.
—That wasn’t an infection.
Tan Mo asked, “Have you been crying?”
Sang Ye pressed his lips together, staring straight ahead, clearly determined to ignore him for the rest of his life.
Tan Mo didn’t mind. He scanned his keycard to open the door, stepped down the stairs, and asked, “How did your eye get like this?”
He recalled that it seemed to have started after yesterday’s photoshoot.
Then, Tan Mo noticed that the footsteps behind him had stopped.
He turned around.
The young man stood on the third step, head lowered. His slender frame almost blended into the night, but upon closer inspection, his shoulders were trembling slightly.
Tan Mo frowned and stepped back toward him. “What’s wrong?”
Sang Ye’s voice was hoarse and damp. “You have the nerve to ask?”
“……”
Tan Mo didn’t know what he was supposed to feel guilty about.
Sang Ye raised his arm and wiped his eyes. “Isn’t it all because of you?”
Tan Mo climbed two steps closer and pulled Sang Ye’s arm down. “What did I do?”
Sang Ye opened his mouth, but his voice was even raspier now, laced with an unmistakable sob. “You’ve been ignoring me…”
“……” Tan Mo licked his lips, feeling completely helpless. ‘Aren’t you ignoring me too?‘
“You’re cold to me.”
“……”
“You don’t care about me.”
“……”
“And you won’t even let me play with you.”
“…I never said that.”
Sang Ye lifted his damp, pale-pink face, his right eye still bright despite the wateriness from his tears. His voice pitched higher with frustration:
“Do you want me to cry myself blind before you’re satisfied?!”
“…………”
Tan Mo was utterly speechless.
He clenched his jaw slightly, then reached out and pressed Sang Ye’s head into his chest.
D*mn brat was exhausting.
Author’s Note:
Talk: It’s literally just an eye infection.