Chapter 66 – I Like You.
Just as Sang Ye started zoning out again, an eruption of excited cheers came from another player section.
The commentator, still brimming with enthusiasm, continued:
“And let’s also congratulate Catch22! They have officially won the PCS7 Intercontinental Championship!”
Sang Ye removed his headset, tilting his head toward the large screen at the side of the stage.
The Catch22 logo was displayed prominently at the top, larger than any other team’s.
WLG followed in second place, with BTF in third.
The scores were incredibly close.
Sang Ye blinked slowly, feeling a bit dazed.
Unlike him, Xiao Pai and Hu Fu were going wild—hugging, jumping, and shaking the entire player platform as if they had won the championship themselves. In fact, they seemed even more excited than Catch22.
“We made it! We made it! We’re going to Worlds!!!”
After his frenzy, Xiao Pai ran over to ruffle Sang Ye’s hair.
This time, Sang Ye simply stared at the scoreboard, not swatting him away.
Everyone began packing up their gear to head back.
For the first time, E Lan took the initiative to speak to Sang Ye.
“How did you do it at the end?”
He was referring to Sang Ye’s clutch victory against Gal in the final moments.
Since he had been using Tan Mo’s equipment, Sang Ye carefully coiled the keyboard cable, thought for a moment, and said:
“Beating him? That was easy.”
E Lan: “……”
Sang Ye zipped up his gear bag and dropped the bravado:
“Just train non-stop, maximize your strengths, and there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
It sounded simple, but in the past month, Sang Ye had nearly worn out his training simulator trying to maximize his strengths.
His goal was to overcome Gal’s dominance over him in the intercontinental tournament. At first, he simply tried to imitate Gal’s shooting style, but after a few days of testing, he felt nothing but frustration.
Not only did it go against his natural habits, making him feel like he had forgotten how to play the game, but also—how could just one month of temporary training possibly match up against Gal’s four years of experience on the competitive stage?
In the end, it was Tan Mo who reminded him:
“There’s no such thing as a ‘good’ or ‘bad’ DPI setting. The best one is the one that suits you. Gal is an arm-aiming player, so his low DPI ensures accuracy, but it also increases his physical movement range, making his in-game reactions slower. His weakness is exactly where your strength lies.”
Sang Ye’s mouse settings were highly sensitive—a slight flick of his wrist could produce fluid, precise movements.
So, in the past month, he had focused on improving his positioning awareness—training himself to dodge Gal’s first shot.
As long as Gal’s initial burst didn’t take him down, the rest of the fight would be his playground.
E Lan quietly picked up his gear bag. Before leaving, he lowered his eyes and muttered:
“Thanks.”
His low voice was almost drowned out by the surrounding noise.
Sang Ye turned to look at him but said nothing.
The stage was being cleared for the upcoming awards ceremony, and all the players began making their way back.
On the WLG side, Xiao Pai was leading the charge, sprinting ahead.
Sang Ye, dragging his gear case behind him, lagged at the very back.
“We won! We freaking won!!!” Xiao Pai kicked open the door and shouted with excitement.
To Xiao Pai, whether it was Sang Ye’s victory over Gal or the team securing their spot in the World Invitational, it was a win either way.
After Tan Mo stepped down, no one had expected Sang Ye to lead the team into the top two, making today’s result an unexpected but massive surprise.
The coach smacked Xiao Pai on the head and scolded with a laugh:
“Lower your d*mn voice, kid.”
As they neared the entrance, Sang Ye’s grip on his gear bag tightened.
His chest pressed against its hard surface, and his heartbeat pounded like a war drum.
Sang Ye was absolutely certain—
At that moment, he wasn’t delusional, and Tan Mo was completely sober too.
But that was precisely the worst part—he couldn’t even come up with a proper excuse, let alone defend himself.
Sang Ye lowered his gaze, the shifting hues in his watery eyes betraying his panic and fear. His fingers fidgeted restlessly, tracing the surface of his gear bag.
Unfortunately, the arena had only been a temporary refuge—sooner or later, he had to face reality.
Sang Ye stood in place for two seconds, then took a deep breath and stepped through the door beside him.
Playing dead seemed like the best option for now.
If Tan Mo didn’t bring it up, then neither would he.
With a bit of luck, maybe they could peacefully coexist until the day he retired.
The moment Sang Ye walked into the room, his gaze—through the shifting silhouettes of people moving about—just so happened to collide with a pair of almond-shaped eyes, fanned out like a delicate bloom.
Sang Ye’s footsteps came to an abrupt halt.
Tan Mo was still sitting on the sofa.
“……”
“……”
Their eyes locked across the distance.
One was determined to play dead.
The other—expression unreadable.
Two seconds later, Sang Ye’s face turned completely red.
Tan Mo’s eyelid twitched as he clenched his fingers for a brief moment.
The coach, who was usually strict with Sang Ye, couldn’t hide his satisfaction and joy at this moment.
Standing at the front of the crowd, he spread his arms wide—welcoming back his triumphant warrior:
“Look who’s back—”
Sang Ye’s legs nearly gave out. Gripping the doorframe, he turned on his heel and mumbled weakly:
“Gotta… use the restroom…”
Everyone: “……”
Tan Mo lowered his head.
The coach was visibly awkward. He lowered his hand and cleared his throat.
“You, ah…” Yu Haotian shook his head repeatedly beside him. “Just stop being so overly enthusiastic—you’re scaring the kid away.”
The “scared away” kid had rushed into the restroom, darted into the last stall, locked the door, flipped down the toilet lid, and sat there hugging his gear bag, biting his lower lip with a miserable pout.
I was the one who made the first move…
Sang Ye held his breath for two seconds, then suddenly exhaled all at once.
I was the one who made the first move back then!
“Whimper…” Sang Ye lightly knocked his forehead against the edge of the gear bag.
I was bewitched by Talk’s face…
Talk must think I’m a perv*rt…
——I treated you like my own little brother. I taught you everything, gave you the best food, the best experiences, took you everywhere… And you were actually eyeing my looks?
In his mind, a cold-faced version of Tan Mo was staring at him, speaking in an icy, accusatory tone.
Sang Ye buried his head lower, mumbling in a soft, guilty whisper:
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Just then, he heard footsteps outside, followed by the sound of two people turning on the faucets.
Sang Ye clamped his mouth shut.
At this moment, besides guilt and unease, Sang Ye couldn’t shake the feeling that he had betrayed Tan Mo’s trust. But deep down, there was also a faint trace of self-reflection.
Maybe, ever since that first time he saw Tan Mo having an episode during the summer tournament, he had already had a fleeting thought of kissing him.
At the time, it had been nothing more than a vague impulse, likely born out of sympathy, something so insignificant it could be ignored.
Now that he thought about it, when Tan Mo had previously said, “You always do things that make people misunderstand—like you have feelings for me,” maybe… that wasn’t entirely false.
But Sang Ye had been completely unaware at the time.
If he had realized earlier that he had these unclear, muddled feelings for Talk, he would have made sure to behave properly, to never cross the line.
And he shouldn’t have tried setting Talk up with anyone either…
On the surface, it seemed like he was just following Talk’s request.
But if he was being honest with himself… he hadn’t really wanted to introduce him to anyone in the first place.
Sang Ye buried his face even deeper, his cheeks burning.
But…
How greedy of you, Sang Ye!
How dare you?!
Like flipping a switch, Sang Ye’s mood shifted in an instant.
His brows furrowed, frustration flickering in his eyes—frustration directed at himself.
Tan Mo was like an unattainable, pure snow-covered peak—someone ordinary people couldn’t even dream of reaching.
And yet, he had dared to taint that image.
This selfish desire lodged in his heart made him feel like he had sullied the purity of his admiration for Tan Mo.
But the truth was—his kindness toward Tan Mo had never been about personal gain.
He expected nothing in return.
But after what he had done, Talk definitely wouldn’t see it that way anymore…
Sang Ye began groaning softly, overwhelmed with regret for messing everything up.
At this rate, he might not even get to sit next to his idol anymore.
But that was a problem for later—right now, what should he do?
Outside, two players from Catch22—Xing Xing and a teammate—were washing their hands.
They both paused mid-motion when they heard a faint, agonized whimper coming from the last stall.
Inside the stall, Sang Ye’s expression gradually settled into a quiet, dejected gloom.
He couldn’t just lock himself in here forever.
Eventually, he would have to step out and face Tan Mo.
Which brought him back to the real issue at hand—
——How the hell was he supposed to explain why he had forcefully kissed Talk?
Xing Xing turned off the faucet, getting ready to leave with his teammate.
The awards ceremony was about to start soon.
And then—
——”AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH——!!!”
“!?”
A sudden, earth-shaking scream erupted from the stall, making the entire restroom tremble.
Xing Xing and his teammate stiffened in horror, snapping their heads toward the last stall.
And that was when they finally realized—
The person inside was WLG’s Song.
“…………”
The teammate, looking worried, took a step forward. “Hey, are you—”
Only to be yanked back by Xing Xing.
Xing Xing glanced at the stall, then pressed a finger to his lips in a “shh” gesture.
Then, with silent agreement, the two of them tiptoed out of the restroom.
As they stepped into the hallway outside, the teammate kept glancing back. “Weird. I always thought Song was pretty indifferent to everything except for Tan Shen. Didn’t expect him to have a full-on breakdown over losing the championship.”
Xing Xing lowered his lashes in thought, then glanced back at the restroom.
“He’s cool, but he’s also fiercely competitive. Who doesn’t want to win the championship?”
“Just… don’t go telling anyone about this, alright?”
“Got it.” The teammate chuckled.
“But honestly, Song really is insane. Jumping in when WLG was at a disadvantage and dragging the team back into the top rankings? D*mn. Some people really do have next-level talent at eighteen.”
…
Sang Ye delayed as much as he could and only hurried back to the lounge right before the award ceremony started, dropping off his gear bag before slipping into the crowd.
He kept his head down the entire time, never once lifting his face.
Sang Ye vaguely knew that Tan Mo was walking beside him.
Thankfully, Xiao Pai was in between them.
As they walked, Xiao Pai suddenly broke into a light jog, catching up to Hu Fu ahead. “Hey! Old Hu! I heard there will be two beautiful female hosts in the interview later.”
From the corner of his eye, Tan Mo’s tall, slender figure became even clearer.
The fine hairs on the back of Sang Ye’s neck stood on end, and he instinctively straightened his posture.
Without thinking, he took a few quick steps forward and wedged himself right between Xiao Pai and Hu Fu, breaking up their shoulder-to-shoulder stance.
“……”
Behind them, Tan Mo stared at Sang Ye’s back, momentarily caught off guard.
After a few seconds, he lowered his gaze and tucked his hands into his pockets.
Xiao Pai, unbothered by Sang Ye’s sudden intrusion, simply threw an arm around his shoulder and kept chatting with Hu Fu. “You know, those two super popular female streamers from the gaming scene? I sent you their livestream links last time, remember?”
Hu Fu teased, “Isn’t this perfect for you? Finally, the tournament organizers are doing something right. So, which one do you hope will interview you?”
Xiao Pai grinned mischievously. “Either one is fine, but the blonde one has such a sweet, cute voice. Sounds amazing.”
Suddenly, a white-haired head popped out between them.
Sang Ye eagerly interjected, “I think her voice is really nice too! And her hair color is pretty!”
Tan Mo, expressionless, lifted his head slightly. “…………”
Xiao Pai turned to Sang Ye. “Well, well, well. Bai Mao, I didn’t expect you to start paying attention to pretty girls.”
Sang Ye’s eyes fluttered rapidly, unable to control the reflex.
“W-who doesn’t like beautiful women?”
Even as he said it, he could hear the unsteady breath in his own voice—as if he was struggling to convince himself.
I mean, he literally initiated the kiss—wasn’t it time to drop this straight-guy act already?
But Sang Ye was stubborn, clinging onto the illusion like a man fighting against inevitable doom.
And just then—
He felt an intense burning sensation on the back of his head.
As if someone was staring straight through him.
His neck stiffened, and he hesitantly tilted his face slightly to the side—
Then froze mid-motion before snapping his head right back into place.
In the end, he didn’t dare look back.
…
The awards ceremony was underway on stage.
While the champion team stood at the center, the other teams lined up at the sides, clapping along as colorful streamers rained down.
Led by Fool, the members of Catch22 raised their golden trophy high, their faces glowing with genuine joy.
The cheers from the crowd grew even louder.
Just one month ago, it had been WLG standing in the spotlight.
Sang Ye still remembered the weight of the trophy in his hands and the emotions that came with it.
But now, he could only stand in the shadows, watching—just another spectator.
In this game, only the champion’s name is remembered.
Still clapping, Sang Ye let out a quiet sigh. “So this is what it feels like not to win the championship.”
Now he understood.
“Whoa!” Xiao Pai chuckled at his words. “Bai Mao, you’re making it sound like you’re some undefeated legend. What, you’re so used to winning that you can’t handle losing just once?”
Well… fair point.
After all, Sang Ye had only won one summer championship.
As the brief award ceremony came to an end, the players were split into groups for post-match interviews, leaving the stage buzzing with chatter.
Fool and Xing Xing made their way toward WLG’s side.
Tan Mo greeted him, “Congratulations.”
Fool patted him on the shoulder and asked, “You doing okay?”
Tan Mo downplayed it, “Just a minor accident, nothing serious.”
As a natural introvert, Xing Xing had only come over to check on Sang Ye.
The pink-haired player observed Sang Ye’s expression carefully, as if expecting to see some reaction—
But Sang Ye’s face gave nothing away.
Rubbing his head, Xing Xing mumbled, “It’s just an intercontinental tournament, that’s all.”
Sang Ye: “Mm, congratulations.”
But Xing Xing wasn’t here for congratulations—he waved his sleeves urgently and declared, “There’s still the World Championship!”
Sang Ye: “Mm.”
Xing Xing: “Next time, you’ll do even better!”
Sang Ye: “I know.”
Xing Xing: “Then…”
Sang Ye: “…?”
Xing Xing: “Come on, give us a smile.”
Sang Ye: “???”
Right at that moment—
Fool called out to Xing Xing, “Let’s take a group photo!”
Sang Ye instinctively glanced at Tan Mo before turning to leave.
But Fool was quicker, “Song, come on.”
“…”
With no choice left, Sang Ye had to join them.
Fool waved over the photographer, who had been snapping pictures at the edge of the stage.
Both WLG and Catch22’s captains stood in a single row with their rookie members, placing Sang Ye and Xing Xing at the center.
While positioning themselves, Sang Ye inevitably brushed arms with Tan Mo.
A wave of heat rushed to Sang Ye’s face, and he instinctively edged closer to Xing Xing.
It had almost been an hour since the match ended. Even though he and Tan Mo had been moving as a team, they hadn’t exchanged a single word.
Sang Ye knew he was avoiding him.
But he also understood why Tan Mo chose to stay silent.
Tan Mo had always treated him well. Even after being crossed this time, he was probably holding back out of consideration, struggling to find the right words.
Sang Ye lowered his gaze, feeling guilty.
It was his own mistake, yet Talk was stuck dealing with it too.
At that moment, the photographer gestured at Tan Mo and Sang Ye, saying, “You two, move closer—closer! People might think you don’t even know each other!”
“…………”
Tan Mo stepped forward.
Sang Ye caught the scent of the cold, damp, deep-sea aroma lingering on the man.
It suddenly reminded him of the first time he met Talk at a competition. He had been particularly fond of his scent—even to the point where, when Talk handed him an ID card, he had spent half a day breathing in the lingering fragrance on it.
Looking back now, that was… just a little bit creepy.
Sang Ye licked his lips, his gaze too tense to wander.
The photographer directed, “Alright, smile!”
—”Let’s talk later.”
A deep, indifferent voice sounded above his head, making Sang Ye’s heart skip a beat. “Huh? …”
At that moment, a blinding flash from the camera flickered.
And so, in the photo that Fool later posted online—a picture meant to symbolize the precious friendship between WLG and Catch22—
Fool and Xing Xing were smiling.
Talk had his eyes lowered.
And Sang Ye? His mouth was slightly open, his face scrunched up as if he’d just encountered something truly troubling.
Netizens:
[HAHAHAHA! Sang Rapper’s expression looks like he’s hiding 800 different schemes. He really can’t let go of losing the championship!]
…
After the interviews, the tournament organizers and major sponsors hosted a celebratory banquet.
The event was as high-class as it got—they had booked an entire floor of a five-star hotel nearby. It was a buffet, serving everything from seafood to barbecue, all available in unlimited portions.
However, the thought of “Let’s talk later” made Sang Ye so nervous that his stomach twisted into knots. He couldn’t eat a single bite.
Talk had been pulled away by a few familiar team captains.
Hu Fu was still roaming the buffet stations, scouting for food.
Xiao Pai was running around the room like a social butterfly, beer bottle in hand, pouring drinks for everyone.
At the table, only Sang Ye and E Lan remained—one anxiously brooding, the other quietly shoveling fried rice into his mouth.
“…” This was the first time Sang Ye had ever seen someone go to a buffet and, for their first dish, choose fried rice.
Sang Ye twirled the noodles on his fork and forced himself to take a few bites.
If Talk really intended to have a conversation with him tonight, he had already decided—he would just admit his mistake honestly.
He felt incredibly guilty for getting carried away and accidentally overstepping with Talk.
As for his own little feelings? Sang Ye had no plans to mention them.
It seemed pointless. Liking someone was one thing, but what—was he expecting to actually be with Talk?
Some things, once said, would only cause Talk unnecessary trouble.
The best possible outcome would be if they could return to how things were before.
But Sang Ye wasn’t stupid—he knew that once a balance was broken, things would never be the same again.
He twirled his noodles again but lost what little appetite he had left, eventually setting his fork down.
By the time midnight approached, the banquet finally wrapped up.
Many people had drunk too much, though the rookies had stayed away from alcohol.
Not long after Sang Ye got on the team bus, Talk boarded as well.
The man’s pale, cool-toned face was tinged with red, and his usually indifferent peach blossom eyes carried a hazy warmth. As he passed by, the faint scent of chilled malt beer mixed with his usual cold fragrance.
He felt… unfamiliar.
Sang Ye’s heartbeat quickened as he heard Talk settle into a seat toward the back.
Yu Haotian clicked his tongue. “We shouldn’t have let you drink. That much? You need proper rest tonight.”
Talk’s voice was lazy and relaxed. “Had to drink at least a little.”
Sang Ye scratched his face and turned to look out the window.
The moon hung in the sky, large and white.
Since he’d had too much to drink… then surely they wouldn’t be having that talk tonight?
The bus ride took just over twenty minutes before they arrived back at the base.
Xiao Pai was so drunk he couldn’t even walk straight and had to lean on Hu Fu for support.
Talk, as always, remained steady.
The group walked together toward the dormitory building.
As they approached, Talk asked Yu Haotian for a cigarette.
Sang Ye was surprised—he had no idea Talk smoked.
…Yet another thing that completely shattered his previous assumptions.
After receiving the cigarette, Talk walked off toward the greenery nearby, seemingly planning to finish smoking before heading upstairs.
Sang Ye trailed behind the others, glancing at Talk in the distance before stepping onto the stairs.
—”Sang Ye.”
Talk called him out of nowhere.
Sang Ye froze. “…”
Talk said, “Be sensible.”
“…………”
For a brief moment, guilt flickered across Sang Ye’s face, but it was gone in an instant.
He walked over and said, “I wasn’t trying to run. I just thought you had too much to drink.”
“Not that much.” Talk kept his head down, avoiding Sang Ye’s gaze. One foot rested on the curb of the greenery as he pressed down on it slightly. “Had a few drinks, just to build some courage.”
Sang Ye: “…?”
Suddenly, he regretted not drinking earlier himself.
He was the one who needed courage.
“Don’t feel pressured.” Sang Ye lowered his eyes, his heart pounding wildly as he started to stammer. “I… I know you treat me well…”
Talk ran a hand through his hair, then bit down on the cigarette, exuding an inexplicable sense of frustration. “Just listen to me. Don’t be so quick to reject me.”
“…?” Sang Ye looked at him in confusion.
Reject what?
Talk hesitated for a moment, lightly furrowing his brows. He recalled how he had choked the first time he smoked, so he took the cigarette out again.
He couldn’t afford to look disheveled now.
Crushing the cigarette in his palm, he shoved his hand into his pocket. The shredded tobacco crumbled instantly against his skin.
Then he tilted his head to look at Sang Ye. Under the dim night sky, his pupils were deep and clear, with not a trace of intoxication.
“I lost control back then. Sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you without asking.”
“…!”
Sang Ye: Confused x2.
No, no, no—this isn’t right. I was the one who kissed you. I should be the one apologizing.
Talk had stolen his lines, leaving Sang Ye speechless. The way things were unfolding was completely different from what he’d spent the entire night agonizing over.
What Sang Ye didn’t know was that, in Talk’s memory, he was the one who kissed Sang Ye first.
What surprised Talk was that Sang Ye hadn’t pushed him away.
At the time, he had barely any rationality left. But once he calmed down, he realized—Sang Ye wouldn’t have stopped him anyway.
—Like a puppy, trusting him unconditionally, offering support and care. Even if there was reluctance in his heart, Sang Ye would have silently accepted his actions.
And for that, Talk felt deeply apologetic.
Later, Sang Ye really did start avoiding him at every turn—it was obvious that he didn’t know how to face him.
Talk couldn’t hide his disappointment, but there was nothing he could do. He had been too impulsive, pushing their relationship in an unsuitable direction at the wrong time.
He lowered his head again, staring at the ground, completely missing how Sang Ye, at a loss for words, was frantically waving his hands.
“You’re not going to ask why?”
Sang Ye instinctively repeated, “Why?”
The cigarette in his pocket had been crushed to dust. Talk said, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”
Sang Ye’s hands froze. His entire brain shut down.
That statement carried too much weight for him, and it didn’t align with what he had always believed.
He wasn’t sure whether he should first clarify, “Aren’t you straight?” or figure out “What do you mean by ‘do that’? Do what?”
Did he mean… kissing a guy?
The silence stretched, broken only by the dying chirps of cicadas from the bushes in the early autumn night.
Talk licked his lips, took a deep breath, turned around, and walked up to the completely blank-faced Sang Ye.
Then he spoke.
“Sang Ye, I like you.”
Sang Ye blinked.
A flame ignited within him, growing higher and higher, licking at his face, his brain, pouring into his stomach, spreading to every nerve and limb…
Talk waited for Sang Ye to respond.
Three seconds passed.
Fifteen seconds.
Half a minute.
Talk raised his hand and snapped his fingers in front of Sang Ye’s face. “Can you accept it? Say something.”
Author’s Note:
Talk: I’ve laid my cards on the table. Your move.