This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･
Chapter 76 – The Little Boy Buying Apple.
Tan Mo was being kissed and licked impatiently by Sang Ye, like a little puppy. In between breaths, he asked, “Where did you learn this…?”
Sang Ye didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled Tan Mo back down, single-mindedly focused on doing what he wanted with his “God.”
However, Tan Mo had learned from past experiences and wasn’t one to fall for tricks easily. Even while kissing, he reached down to the floor, slowly feeling around for his phone.
Noticing his distraction, Sang Ye let out a dissatisfied growl. His long, slender legs lifted and hooked around the man’s waist.
Tan Mo’s breath hitched—screw the phone, trust between people is what really matters. He withdrew his hand, instead using it to cup Sang Ye’s head, messing up his soft hair.
Finally, Sang Ye settled down.
The next morning, when Sang Ye woke up, snow had already blanketed the outside world. The sunlight reflected off it, bright enough to be a little blinding.
A distant memory surfaced—an elementary school essay he had once read. He had forgotten the title, but there was a phrase in it: [Draped in silver and white.] He had copied it nearly a hundred times as punishment because he kept misspelling it.
Snowy mornings always carried a quiet stillness, as if all sounds were buried beneath the soft, rustling snowdrifts.
Sang Ye stared out the window in a daze. He knew he had drunk too much last night, but this time, he didn’t wake up with a pounding headache or dizziness. Instead, he felt an inexplicable sense of warmth and relaxation.
And today, the bed felt especially cozy.
Burying his face into the blanket, Sang Ye stretched lazily, his entire body tensing for a moment.
Then, he realized—he wasn’t wearing anything.
And then, he noticed—his back was pressed against something equally warm.
Sang Ye froze. Slowly, he turned his head.
Tan Mo lay beside him, flat on his back, one arm resting above his head, deep in sleep.
“…”
Sang Ye’s gaze drifted to the man’s exposed collarbone. Then, considering the warmth behind him…
It seemed Tan Mo wasn’t wearing anything either.
A misty haze rose in Sang Ye’s mind as his gaze drifted over the man’s side profile. He saw his long eyelashes resting gently against his skin, the slight upward curve at the outer corners of his eyes, and no signs of waking up just yet.
Back when Sang Ye used to take close-up screenshots of Tan Mo from videos and admire them on his computer, he had never imagined that one day, he would be lying this close—right next to the real thing. And worse still, neither of them was wearing anything.
Sang Ye stayed frozen for a while before suddenly sitting up, hurriedly pulling the blanket up to cover his chest.
He knew they were both men, so there was nothing to hide, yet in front of Tan Mo, he was suddenly aware of their difference in gender.
Tan Mo was a light sleeper. The movement beside him caused him to stir awake.
He opened his eyes, immediately meeting Sang Ye’s wide-eyed, shocked, and utterly confused gaze.
“…”
Tan Mo, still drowsy, licked his dry lips expressionlessly. He already had a feeling about what was coming next.
Sang Ye, flustered and panicking, peeked under the blanket.
It was clean. No suspicious marks… except for faint, scattered red traces near the inner thigh, like fallen cherry blossom petals.
A rush of heat flared across Sang Ye’s face. He was so embarrassed he wanted to shrink away, but he was determined to defend his rights. Tightening the blanket around himself, he lifted his head and, summoning all his courage, questioned Tan Mo, “What did you do to me?”
Tan Mo sighed, rubbing his eyes as if this required great patience. “Brought you back, pinned you to the bed for two hours, then gave you a bath.”
Sang Ye’s breath hitched. He couldn’t believe Tan Mo could say something like that so casually. Feeling both embarrassed and indignant, he pressed further, “H-how did you ‘play’ with me?”
“I didn’t touch your back.” Tan Mo turned over, burying his face in the pillow, his voice low and indifferent. “Used my hands. Used my mouth.”
“!!!”
The sheer amount of information was overwhelming. Sang Ye’s face turned red from his cheeks down to the base of his neck. His chest rose and fell sharply—not just from embarrassment but also from anger.
How could Tan Mo say such things so casually? He didn’t even look guilty. He didn’t even think this was a big deal. He could still sleep?!
Sleep, sleep, sleep! That’s all he knew how to do!
Sang Ye’s eyes reddened, a watery sheen forming at the corners. His voice came out hoarse as he protested, “Didn’t I tell you? When I’m drunk, you’re not supposed to… to do anything! You even agreed back then! How could you? We already talked about this—”
Tan Mo remained motionless with his eyes closed.
If he had proof, he would’ve shoved it in Sang Ye’s face and made him watch it on repeat.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t been prepared.
After a while, Tan Mo asked, “If I told you that you were the one begging me, would you believe it?”
Sang Ye shot upright in an instant, not even caring about the blanket anymore. He grabbed a pillow and hurled it at Tan Mo in a fit of rage. “Not only did you take advantage of me, but now you’re slandering me too?! What kind of person do you think I am? How could I possibly do something like that?!”
Tan Mo didn’t reply. He just buried his face deeper into the pillow.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been falsely accused. He told himself he needed to get used to it.
Still fuming, Sang Ye smacked him twice more with the pillow, relentless. “How could you do this? How could you? Say something—”
Tan Mo’s dark hair was now a messy tangle. He raised a hand, covering the back of his head, his long fingers loosely curled.
Fine. Whatever you say, drama queen.
Next time, I’m setting up a tripod by the bed and recording everything.
After venting his anger, Sang Ye finally quieted down, determined to ignore Tan Mo completely.
He climbed over him, scooped up the scattered pile of clothes from the floor, pressed them to his chest, and bolted toward the bathroom.
Tan Mo turned his head, one eye peeking open lazily from the pillow.
Sang Ye hunched over slightly, clutching his clothes to himself. The snow-reflected sunlight streaming in through the window illuminated his warm, dry skin, its glow highlighting every delicate detail. The bathroom curtains were still drawn, leaving the interior dim. As he reached the door, feeling around the wall for the light switch, the shifting light traced over his form—skimming his waist, gliding down his thigh—a soft, fleeting shimmer.
Deadly.
Tan Mo threw back the blanket, got out of bed, and stepped forward.
Just as Sang Ye was about to shut the door, Tan Mo pressed against it, slipping inside.
…
Everyone got up late today. After eating, they only headed to the practice room in the afternoon.
By the time Xiao Pai and Hu Fu arrived, Sang Ye and Tan Mo were already seated.
Both were busy with their own tasks on their computers.
Sang Ye’s face was slightly flushed as he curled up in his gaming chair, his expression a little tired.
“You know you got drunk again last night, right?” Xiao Pai slid over while waiting for his computer to start, teasing Sang Ye. “I almost got scolded because of you. Next time, watch your drinking, okay? If you can’t hold your liquor, just drink less. Luckily, you were with us—imagine if you were alone outside. That’d be dangerous as hell.”
For once, Sang Ye didn’t snap back. Instead, he buried his face into his collar.
Going back was even more dangerous.
Xiao Pai’s eyes landed on Tan Mo’s phone resting on the desk, and he let out a surprised sound. “Whoa—brother, what happened to your screen?!”
Sang Ye tensed slightly, stealing a quick glance at the phone on the neighboring desk before looking away just as fast.
The damage was bad. A spiderweb-like crack spread out from the center, so severe that even swiping on the screen could be a hazard.
Tan Mo kept his eyes on his monitor, his voice calm and indifferent. “No idea which dog’s paw knocked it to the floor.”
“……”
Sang Ye straightened his posture and sat upright, his face turning an even deeper shade of red.
Xiao Pai clicked his tongue twice, not catching the hidden meaning. “Seriously, why’d you even mess with a dog in the first place?”
Tan Mo replied, “Nothing better to do.”
Sang Ye cut in, “Your computer’s ready.”
Xiao Pai glanced back. “Oh,” he said before retreating to his seat.
Since the group stage had just ended, everyone was feeling more relaxed.
During dinner, Xiao Pai was scrolling through Twitter and came across photos of the Korean team in front of the Berlin Wall. He turned to Yu Haotian with an idea: “Hey, can we go out and have some fun too? Just for a day. I mean, we came all the way here—we can’t just leave without sightseeing, right?”
“Know your place—you’re here to compete,” Yu Haotian said. “We’re only a quarter of the way through the tournament, and your mind’s already wandering? Are you that confident you’ll take the championship?”
Xiao Pai pouted and kept scrolling through social media, mumbling under his breath, “Even the workhorses back home don’t have it this rough… You gotta balance work and rest… So rigid.”
Yu Haotian wasn’t being rigid—he was just cautious about any unexpected accidents.
Even if the chances were low, his players were invaluable assets. A single injury could be disastrous. So he’d rather keep them cooped up than risk anything going wrong.
After a few more practice matches that night, everyone turned in early.
Sang Ye made his way to the fifth floor. The closer he got to his room, the faster his heartbeat became as memories of the morning in the bathroom resurfaced.
He had no recollection of what happened last night, but he had been fully conscious this morning. There was no room for denial.
Maybe it was embarrassment. Maybe it was the lingering sense that Tan Mo had somehow seduced him. Either way, he wasn’t ready to back down.
Just before reaching his room, Sang Ye sped up and nudged Xiao Pai. “Wanna watch the game together?”
Xiao Pai, always up for a good time, immediately agreed. “Sure! I’ll call E Lan too!”
As they chatted, they casually strolled past Room 506 as if nothing had happened.
Tan Mo glanced at Sang Ye’s retreating figure, then lowered his head to swipe his key card. His voice was cool and indifferent. “Need me to bring you a blanket later?”
Sang Ye’s neck stiffened slightly. He didn’t turn around, just raised his voice a little. “I’ll be back to sleep.”
Tan Mo pushed the door open. “Let yourself in.”
Sang Ye pressed his lips together, his face a bit tense. “Got it.”
During the match, Sang Ye wasn’t particularly focused. At the start, Xiao Pai handed him a beer, but he waved it away.
He sat in front of the TV, resting his chin on his hands. When the game reached its climactic match point, the whole room erupted with excitement.
Xiao Pai and Hu Fu clenched their fists and jumped up, shouting, “Bullshit! Refund our tickets!”
But Sang Ye remained eerily calm.
His eyes were on the screen, but it was as if he wasn’t really watching at all.
At halftime, Sang Ye picked up his phone and checked the time—11:00 PM.
His gaze unconsciously drifted toward the various app notification banners.
WeChat was flooded with daily messages, stacking on top of each other and blocking the lower notifications.
Sang Ye wasn’t sure if Tan Mo had messaged him.
Had he urged him to come back midway?
Then again, maybe he hadn’t reached out at all—after all, he had already considered bringing him a blanket.
Thinking of this, Sang Ye frowned and tossed his phone aside.
But barely two seconds later, he picked it up again and swiped open WeChat.
Just in case.
The app opened.
There was no red notification dot next to the pinned chat. Their conversation was still stuck on the messages from two days ago.
Sang Ye took a deep breath, locked his phone, and turned his attention back to the TV.
Xiao Pai rushed out of the bathroom in a hurry. “It’s starting! It’s starting!”
Suddenly, Sang Ye stood up, grabbed his backpack, and said, “I’m heading out.”
Xiao Pai blinked. “Huh?”
Hu Fu asked, “You’re not staying? There’s still half a game left.”
Orlan also looked up at him.
Everyone was a bit confused as to why Sang Ye was leaving in the middle of the match.
Sang Ye walked toward the door. “I’m tired. You guys watch.”
“Oh, okay. Take care.”
The cheers from the live broadcast erupted on the TV, quickly drawing everyone’s attention back to the game.
Sang Ye was never particular about where he placed his things. He stood outside Room 506, rummaging through his backpack for a long time before finally finding his key card buried at the bottom.
Swiping the card, he stepped inside. The sound of the game played in the background, and the room was dimly lit—only Tan Mo’s side of the room had a light on.
Sang Ye entered and casually tossed his backpack onto the floor.
Tan Mo glanced at him briefly before turning his eyes back to the TV.
As Sang Ye walked past, he glanced at the screen and felt a flicker of irritation.
But when he thought about it, there was no real reason to be mad. He was the one who had invited Xiao Pai to watch the game together. If Tan Mo wanted to watch it alone in the room, that was his choice. What—was he not allowed to enjoy a match in peace?
Still, Sang Ye was in no mood to be reasonable. All he could think was that Tan Mo clearly wanted to watch the game too, yet he hadn’t asked him to join—meaning he simply didn’t want to deal with him.
Sang Ye sat on the bed and started taking off his shoes.
Tan Mo suddenly spoke. “Are you still watching?”
Sang Ye pulled off his socks as well, not even looking up. “No.”
Tan Mo asked, “Then will it bother you if I watch?”
Sang Ye replied, “Go ahead.”
The room filled with the sounds of the TV—cheers, applause, and the commentator’s excited narration.
Sang Ye stood up, ready to take a shower.
Tan Mo blinked and looked at him. “Why can’t you just admit it?”
Sang Ye happened to stop at the foot of Tan Mo’s bed, turning just in time to block the TV screen. He raised a brow. “Admit what? I didn’t do anything.”
Tan Mo let out a sharp laugh, sitting up in bed. He reached for his phone and flipped it over, tilting his face up to look at Sang Ye. “Then how do you think my phone got shattered? You think that had nothing to do with you?”
Sang Ye’s breath hitched. He blinked, his voice suddenly weak—but his attitude remained stubborn. “That… obviously happened because you tried to take pictures while doing those things! I didn’t agree, so I struggled, and the phone fell. You had bad intentions—how is that my fault?”
“……”
Tan Mo looked at Sang Ye for a long moment before suddenly laughing.
With the way Sang Ye described it, he sounded more and more like a complete perv*rt.
Sang Ye lifted his chin slightly, frowning. “What are you laughing at?”
Tan Mo replied, “You got it wrong.”
Sang Ye was furious. “And who’s the one refusing to admit it now?”
Tan Mo said, “I wasn’t trying to take pictures—I was trying to record a video.”
Sang Ye: “…… You… Do you even hear yourself right now?”
“You really are a poor, delicate little flower,” Tan Mo muttered, realizing he couldn’t win an argument against Sang Ye. He decided to drop the subject entirely, tossing his phone onto the nightstand. Lying back down, he added, “From now on, this benevolent saint won’t be saving you anymore. You’re on your own.”
“……”
Hearing the word “saint” triggered a vague memory in Sang Ye’s mind. After a moment, he recalled that he had once made a wish to a bodhisattva.
Sang Ye flicked his towel and walked toward the bathroom. “What kind of ‘saint’ acts like you?”
Tan Mo turned off the light on his side of the room and switched on the bedside lamp on Sang Ye’s side, getting ready for sleep.
Just as the bathroom door closed, it was yanked open again.
Sang Ye stuck his head out, unwilling to back down. “You’re such a p*rv!”
BANG—!
The door slammed shut.
“……”
Tan Mo propped himself up and glanced toward the bathroom, biting his lower lip.
How did he end up liking such a dramatic little troublemaker?
The next morning, when Sang Ye woke up, Tan Mo was still asleep.
Ever since his stress response episodes, Tan Mo had struggled with poor sleep quality, making it difficult for him to wake up in the morning.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Sang Ye watched Tan Mo’s sleeping face for a while. Then, rubbing his own face, he caught sight of the phone on the bedside table—its screen shattered like a spiderweb.
There were no scheduled practice matches between teams that day.
Sang Ye went to ask Yu Haotian for leave, saying he wanted to go out for three hours.
Yu Haotian asked, “Where are you going?”
“Just wandering around nearby,” Sang Ye replied.
Yu Haotian was still hesitant. “Wait a bit, I’ll check with your captain.”
Sang Ye stuffed both hands into the pockets of his coat and buried his face in his collar. “He’s still sleeping.”
“……”
In Yu Haotian’s mind, a poetic phrase instantly popped up: “Spring nights are too short, the sun is already high, from now on, the emperor neglects court affairs.”
He had no words.
In the end, he approved Sang Ye’s leave.
Sang Ye took his phone and set out.
Since he didn’t know how to take public transportation in a foreign country, he waited for a taxi outside the residential area.
Eventually, a taxi arrived. After getting in, Sang Ye showed the driver the address on his phone’s map.
The driver spoke a little English and suddenly understood. “Apple, Apple! Ok, Ok.”
After nearly thirty minutes, the driver stopped at the entrance of a pedestrian street and pointed Sang Ye in a direction.
Following the street, Sang Ye finally arrived at a brightly lit and spacious Apple Store.
Although Sang Ye didn’t speak the language, he had a translator app on his phone. Besides, buying something was simple—he just needed to pick the model he wanted and pay with his card at the counter, requiring minimal conversation.
Sang Ye entered the Apple Store.
A sales associate wearing earphones greeted him with a smile, speaking in a language he didn’t understand.
Sang Ye responded in Chinese, “I don’t understand. Just ignore me.”
A question mark practically appeared above the associate’s head.
Sang Ye walked straight to the smartphone section and spotted the latest models.
Looking at the price tags, he picked the most expensive black one and pointed at it.
The associate finally understood and smiled, making an “OK” gesture.
Sang Ye reached for his phone to pay.
He checked one pocket, then the other.
Then his pants pockets.
His expression turned panicked.
Where was his phone?!
…
Tan Mo didn’t wake up until after one in the afternoon.
Sang Ye wasn’t there. He was used to that.
Tan Mo sluggishly got himself ready, then slowly made his way to the cafeteria. After eating, he initially planned to head back to his room, but after hesitating at the entrance, he changed direction and went to the gaming room instead.
Even if Sang Ye was a troublemaker, if he was upset, wouldn’t Tan Mo still have to go and coax him?
But when Tan Mo arrived, he was surprised to find the gaming room empty.
He didn’t even bother going inside. Leaning against the wall, he pulled out his phone and messaged Xiao Pai.
T.: [Where are you?]
3.1415926: [In my room, why?]
T.: [Alone?]
3.1415926: [Hu Fu is here too.]
T.: [What about E Lan?]
3.1415926: [He went back to his room after eating. Are you looking for him?]
Tan Mo finally stopped beating around the bush.
T.: [Is Sang Ye with you guys?]
3.1415926: [No, haven’t seen him all morning.]
Tan Mo straightened up and immediately called Sang Ye.
The phone rang over ten times, but no one answered.
He called again, but this time, the call was declined.
Tan Mo frowned.
Sang Ye wasn’t the type to use silent treatment, no matter how upset he was. He would never just hang up like that.
Tan Mo called again.
This time, the phone was turned off.
Tan Mo went to find Yu Haotian and got straight to the point. “Where is he?”
Yu Haotian was startled by Tan Mo’s rare tone of irritation. He quickly realized who he was referring to and replied, “He took a three-hour leave and went out.”
“When did he leave?”
“Sometime after ten in the morning.”
“Where to?”
“He didn’t say.”
Tan Mo gave Yu Haotian a look that practically screamed, Are you serious? He didn’t have time to argue about how reckless it was to let a player go out without knowing their destination. Instead, he simply said, “Call the police.”
“Huh?” Yu Haotian glanced at the time on his phone and felt that Tan Mo was overreacting. “It’s only been… not even four hours. And think about it, he still needs time to get back.”
Tan Mo turned away, his patience at its limit. He gritted his teeth as he pulled the door open. “Call the police.”
Yu Haotian hesitated for a second, then his stomach dropped as he realized the gravity of the situation. He jumped up and dialed the emergency number.
…
After the snowfall, the temperature in Berlin hovered around freezing in November.
Sang Ye sat on the steps beside the Apple store, his head buried in his arms, body curled up, feeling utterly hopeless.
There were many display phones and computers inside the store, but they were all set to German, and he didn’t know how to switch them to Chinese. The store’s Wi-Fi also had restrictions, preventing him from downloading a translation app.
He spent a long time trying to communicate with the store employees, but their expressions became increasingly wary. Even their polite smiles faded, leaving him no choice but to leave in embarrassment.
Once outside, Sang Ye retraced his steps from the drop-off point, searching along the street in hopes that his phone had simply fallen somewhere. But after combing the area seven or eight times, the faint hope in his heart dwindled until it finally shattered.
He returned to the entrance of the Apple store, unsure of where to find the police or who to ask for help. Stranded in a foreign country without knowing the language, without a single familiar face in sight, the initial panic faded into an overwhelming sense of isolation and helplessness.
As the afternoon wore on and the sky darkened after 2 PM, the feeling of abandonment grew even stronger.
Sang Ye sat by the entrance, enduring the bitter wind, hoping he might spot a fellow Chinese person who could help. But an hour passed, then two, then three… and the street remained as unfamiliar as ever.
He regretted not telling Yu Haotian that he was going to the Apple store. He had wanted to secretly buy a phone as a gift for Talk, so he hadn’t told anyone. Now, even if they realized he was missing and called the police, it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.
A cold gust of wind blew past, and Sang Ye sniffled, tucking his fingers deeper into his sleeves. His chest felt tight.
At that moment, he suddenly missed Tan Mo terribly.
If Talk were here, this would never have happened.
If Talk were here, Sang Ye could bury himself in his arms—so warm that even the strongest winds wouldn’t make him feel cold.
Sang Ye thought about the warmth of Tan Mo’s body and the familiar scent on him.
The more he thought about it, the more his eyes burned with tears. For the past few hours, he hadn’t felt the urge to cry—only anxious, unbearably anxious. But now, he suddenly wanted to let his tears fall.
If he had another chance, he would never have left the room this morning. Not only that, he wouldn’t have even gotten out of bed. He would have stayed under the covers, hugging a pillow and curling up in Tan Mo’s blanket, refusing to go anywhere.
But another gust of icy wind swept past, pulling him from his warm daydream back into the harsh, bone-chilling reality. Sang Ye raised his hand and wiped his eyes.
The little match girl must have been really cold too.
Just then, the wind carried a scent—cool, damp, and clean, like the deep sea.
For a moment, Sang Ye thought the cold had made him hallucinate. But then, a pair of gray-and-white sneakers appeared before him, attached to a pair of long, straight legs.
Sang Ye lifted his head.
He suddenly understood why the little match girl wanted to follow the vision of her grandmother in the fire’s glow.
Tan Mo exhaled, his breath forming a faint white mist in the cold air, his gaze fixed on the boy sitting on the steps.
The teenager’s small face was pale from the cold, his eyes red-rimmed, dark irises shimmering with unshed tears. His lips trembled twice before he pressed them together.
Sang Ye looked up at Tan Mo, awkwardly blinking his left eye shut as he hoarsely explained, “I lost my phone… I didn’t know where to go…”
Tan Mo bent down.
Sang Ye finally pouted, opening his stiff, frozen arms, silently asking for a hug.
But Tan Mo ignored his plea. Instead, he grabbed Sang Ye by the collar and yanked him up from the ground—so forcefully that Sang Ye had to stand on his tiptoes just to keep his balance.
“……”
Tan Mo pulled him close, his voice deep and stern. “Sang Ye, you had the guts to run off—why couldn’t you find your way back?”
Sang Ye took two deep breaths, but suddenly, his throat tightened, and tears welled up in his eyes. “You’re yelling at me—”
Tan Mo let go.
As soon as Sang Ye’s heels touched the ground, he reached into Tan Mo’s open coat, wrapping his arms around his waist. His entire body burrowed into Tan Mo’s embrace, sniffling non-stop and rubbing his tear-streaked face against him.
Tan Mo closed his eyes briefly, his expression darkening.
When had he ever been harsh?
He hadn’t even started scolding him yet.
How did he end up falling for such a crybaby?
But right now, no matter how frustrated he felt, all the words he wanted to say had to be swallowed down.