This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･
Chapter 78 – Boyfriend.
Sang Ye was called away by the coach for a private discussion about the afternoon’s practice match.
When he returned to the gaming room, he saw Tan Mo sitting in his seat, using his computer.
“Why are you here?” Sang Ye asked.
Xiao Pai answered before Tan Mo could. “He thought you got lost, so he ran over from the dorms.”
Sang Ye picked up his phone from the table and saw two missed calls from Tan Mo. Realizing what had happened, he curled the corner of his lips slightly.
“I would’ve told you if I was going out.”
“I would’ve told you if I was going out.”
“I would’ve told you if I was going out.”
It was the forum page he hadn’t closed before leaving.
Sensing Sang Ye’s stare, Tan Mo looked over and asked, “I borrowed your computer while you were gone. You mind?”
Forget the computer—Sang Ye usually let Tan Mo use his phone and tablet freely. Tan Mo even knew all his passwords.
“Go ahead.” Sang Ye said this, but his eyes remained locked on the screen, as if afraid Tan Mo would move the cursor one step too far.
Tan Mo finished reviewing the list and casually remarked, “Catch22 and NSN have both advanced to the second stage of the losers’ bracket. Only the top four from this stage will make it to the finals. 22 is performing steadily, but NSN is still struggling. If they don’t adjust, the longer they drag it out, the weaker they’ll get.”
“Yeah, this format is brutal for the losers’ bracket,” Xiao Pai said, stuffing a corn chip into his mouth. “It’s better to make it straight into the winners’ bracket in one go. Out of the sixteen teams, half will secure a spot in the finals, which is practically a free pass.”
“You think the winners’ bracket is easy?” Hu Fu shot him a look. “Every team is a powerhouse. No one can guarantee they’ll make top eight. Lose, and you still have to fight your way through round after round in the later matches.”
“D*mn, Fatty,” Xiao Pai shoved Hu Fu’s chair. “You’re making me nervous with all that talk. Don’t mess with my mindset!”
“Gimme some.” Hu Fu reached for Xiao Pai’s corn chips.
Meanwhile, Tan Mo finished looking at the list and moved the mouse to close the current webpage.
“I got it!” Sang Ye stepped forward and pressed down on Tan Mo’s hand.
Tan Mo stared at him for two seconds, raised an eyebrow, then got up and moved aside.
Sang Ye sat down at the computer, closed the entire browser, and visibly let out a breath of relief.
Catching every subtle change in Sang Ye’s expression, Tan Mo said, “I’m heading back first. Finish up here and come back early.”
Sang Ye obediently responded, “Okay.”
Tan Mo naturally reached out to ruffle his hair before turning to leave.
Sang Ye watched the man’s back, then suddenly stood up. “Wait a second!”
Tan Mo stopped and turned around. “What is it?”
Beside Sang Ye, a chair was piled with a backpack and a jacket. He rummaged through the pile, pulled out a scarf, and handed it to Tan Mo. “Wear mine for now.”
Tan Mo was only wearing a loose crewneck sweater, leaving his long neck exposed. The walk back to their place would take five minutes, and with his tall frame, Sang Ye’s jacket wouldn’t fit him—so all he could offer was his scarf.
Tan Mo glanced at the classic Burberry checkered cashmere scarf, then bent down slightly, lowering his head and resting his hands on his knees.
Sang Ye held the scarf, opened his mouth slightly as if to say something, but in the end, remained silent. His face flushed as he stepped forward and carefully wrapped the scarf around Tan Mo’s neck, looping it twice. He even made sure to pull up the collar slightly to block the wind.
As he withdrew his hands, his gaze landed on Tan Mo’s soft, lowered eyes. Stray strands of hair rested on his eyelids, probably a little irritating. Unable to resist, Sang Ye reached out and gently brushed the strands away with his fingertips.
But the moment he touched them, he seemed to snap back to reality, recoiling as if shocked, immediately pulling his hand back and clutching his fingers.
Plop.
A faint sound came from the side—it was Xiao Pai dropping a corn chip onto the table.
Tan Mo straightened up, his long, fair fingers lightly brushing over the scarf, feeling the warmth of the cashmere. He looked up. “Thanks.”
Sang Ye, like an otter, cupped his flushed face with both hands, his eyelashes lowered as he mumbled, “You’re welcome…”
Tan Mo stared at him, feeling an overwhelming urge to kiss him again.
But aside from the fact that they were in the practice room, Xiao Pai was right there, staring wide-eyed at them without blinking. He also didn’t want to come off like a clingy little dog.
So, Tan Mo turned and left.
Xiao Pai picked up the fallen corn chip and popped it back into his mouth. “Why is it that normal brotherly friendship turns into something this cheesy with you two?”
Sang Ye ignored him, sat back down at his computer, and reopened the forum. To his surprise, his long-dormant alt account had 99+ notifications.
“What the hell…” Sang Ye thought it had to be a system glitch.
Before heading out to see the coach, he had just posted a casual question under someone else’s thread. He was only gone for ten minutes—how could there possibly be 99+ replies?
Clicking the notification, the page refreshed.
Under his comment from ten minutes ago, there were over a thousand replies.
“…”
The first unfolded reply stood out blatantly:
[Your boyfriend loves you way too much. He loves your soul… and also craves your body.]
Sang Ye thought about it.
Although the reasoning made his face heat up, it was… acceptable.
Then he clicked on the collapsed replies.
What filled the screen was an endless stream of [AAAAAAAHHHHHH!]
Sang Ye stared blankly.
What the hell was so exciting about this? This was absolutely ridiculous.
When Sang Ye looked back at the top comment in the thread, he finally noticed the username—[talktome.]
“……”
His brain completely crashed.
That was Tan Mo himself.
Now, looking at the replies and comments again, everything felt completely different.
[Can’t believe I just found Talk God in the Emotional Forum section?!]
[I’m so excited! But also so confused! Talk doesn’t seem like the type to say something like this!]
[Is this Talk20160320 just a fan? So right now, is Talk actually replying to a fan?]
[Wait! No one noticed that Talk20160320 is listed as male, with an IP location in Berlin, Germany?!]
[AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! Is this what I think it is?!]
[AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH SANG FU GUI IS THAT YOU?!]
Sang Ye’s hand trembled. He immediately went to the settings page to change his gender to “Female.”
But just as he was about to confirm the change, he froze.
Changing it now would be way too suspicious. It would only make things worse.
Terrified, Sang Ye logged out of his account in one click.
“Hey, Bai Mao, wanna duo for a couple of rounds?”
Xiao Pai turned around at that moment, only to see Sang Ye slumped over his desk, gripping his hair, looking completely dead inside.
“What’s up with you?” Xiao Pai rolled his chair closer.
“Don’t ask.”
“…Oh.” Xiao Pai rolled back.
…
The day after the elimination bracket ended, the winners’ bracket matches began.
Spanning two days with ten matches in total, only the top eight teams on the leaderboard would qualify for the grand finals.
Before departure, Sang Ye was still reviewing notes on his iPad while waiting in the lobby downstairs. His memorandum pages were filled with diagrams illustrating BTF’s rotations and movement patterns during their Group A matches.
Each team adjusts their strategies at different stages to avoid being too predictable—if opponents figure them out, they become easy targets. However, no matter how much a team changes its approach, a player’s individual habits and playstyle are deeply ingrained and difficult to shake.
Sang Ye’s notes were mostly focused on Gal, with annotations like “holding angles,” “central zone positioning,” and “contesting skyscrapers” scattered everywhere. Although the coaches prepared detailed team reports for everyone, Sang Ye’s own additions were even more thorough.
As the in-game leader (IGL), Sang Ye had to consider more than anyone else.
When Tan Mo came downstairs, Sang Ye was so immersed in his notes that he didn’t even notice.
Tan Mo tilted his head and stood beside him for a while before finally asking, “The player you marked—is that Gal?”
Sang Ye was so startled by the sudden question that he immediately closed his iPad, set it aside, and looked up.
“You’re awake?”
“Not just awake—I’m already downstairs.” Tan Mo sat down on the sofa next to him and said, “I’m going to the venue today too.”
Sang Ye was momentarily surprised. “Did the team doctor approve?”
“Don’t worry,” Tan Mo replied casually. “I know what I’m doing.”
“……”
That meant he didn’t get approval.
Tan Mo stretched out his hand. “Let me see.”
Sang Ye stuffed his iPad into the sofa cushion. “There’s nothing to see.”
Tan Mo raised an eyebrow, expression blank. “What are you hiding from me?”
Left with no choice, Sang Ye reluctantly took the iPad back out, mumbling, “Just… don’t laugh at me.”
“Why would I laugh? I should be praising you for being so diligent.” Tan Mo flipped through the pages and asked, “Even though your drop spots are different, you always run into BTF during rotations. What’s your plan?”
Sang Ye rubbed the back of his neck and lowered his head. “I haven’t figured it out yet.”
Tan Mo said, “You’ve beaten him before.”
“That was… just once.” Sang Ye’s voice dropped to a whisper.
And that one time, he knew how desperately he had fought, how much he had relied on timing and positioning.
Tan Mo looked at Sang Ye. “Are you afraid of him?”
“I’m not afraid of him as a person,” Sang Ye pressed his lips together and said. “But as an opponent, I know he’s strong. He might defeat me.”
“Song.”
“Hm?”
“I think you’re strong.”
Sang Ye’s expression went blank for two seconds before he looked up at Tan Mo.
Tan Mo kept his eyes down, flipping through the notes. “If we weren’t teammates but opponents, you would keep me up at night before a match.”
A warmth spread through Sang Ye’s chest, and his breath hitched. “Are you… are you just trying to hype me up?”
“Gal is afraid of you,” Tan Mo continued. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t keep trying to suppress you. His way of overcoming fear is to destroy it. At the end of the day, he’s just someone too insecure to face reality.”
Sang Ye lowered his eyes, lost in thought.
“No matter what, play at your own pace.” Tan Mo handed the iPad back to him. “Don’t let fear cloud your judgment.”
Sang Ye glanced at his notes, then closed the tablet and straightened his back. “Got it.”
Before long, the others started coming downstairs, gathering in the lobby to check their gear and belongings.
Amidst the noisy chatter, Sang Ye still felt a lingering warmth in his chest. He lowered his head, deep in thought, the more he thought about it, the happier he became.
Finally, when no one was paying attention, he nudged Tan Mo’s arm and whispered, “Was that true?”
Facing the boy’s bright and clear eyes, Tan Mo was momentarily dazed but quickly regained his composure. “What?”
Sang Ye reminded him, “That I would keep you up at night before a match.”
Sang Ye knew he had some skills, but he never thought he was strong enough to make Tan Mo—his ultimate benchmark—feel threatened. To receive such recognition from his idol made him feel so light he might just float away.
Tan Mo said, “It’s true.”
Sang Ye pressed his lips together, barely holding back a smug grin.
Tan Mo took slow steps forward, closing the distance between them until Sang Ye was backed up against a nearby pillar. His tall frame loomed over Sang Ye, blocking him in.
Tan Mo gazed directly into Sang Ye’s eyes and murmured, “I’d spend the whole night thinking about how to get your contact information, how to start a conversation with you… maybe even thinking about your face while doing some other things…”
Sang Ye instantly covered Tan Mo’s mouth with his hand, absolutely mortified. He lowered his voice and scolded, “Stop thinking about useless stuff!”
Since he couldn’t speak, Tan Mo simply pressed a quick kiss to Sang Ye’s palm.
…
By evening, all sixteen teams had gathered, gone through the usual pre-game procedures, and were ready to begin the first day of the Winners’ Bracket matches.
As they parachuted over P City, Xiao Pai raised his view angle. “One squad of four, looks like they’re landing at the double four-story buildings.”
No need to guess—it was Team HK.
“Should we switch landing spots?” Hu Fu asked. “There’s still room near the village.”
If Tan Mo were here, switching wouldn’t even be a consideration.
“No,” Sang Ye decided almost instantly. “If we give up one loot spot, we’d have to give up the church and the seaside houses too.”
“Got it!”
Since the call came from their IGL (in-game leader), everyone followed without question.
The broadcast cameras captured the early-game drop zones, and Commentator A clicked his tongue. “WLG is rolling for the same spot as their big brother team? Gotta respect the courage, but I think it’s a bit risky. Without Talk leading, and with Song and Elan taking over as the core players, they’re still a bit green. Challenging a top European team like this… they might not walk away with much.”
As he spoke, inside the game, Sang Ye found himself parachuting side by side with an opponent, both of them locked onto the same rooftop.
Sang Ye spotted a pistol near the roof’s edge, dove down at full speed, and the moment he landed, he rolled straight to the wall without any hesitation, grabbed the gun, and fired a shot—headshot.
The enemy reacted fast. Instead of panicking and retreating, they lunged for a shotgun behind cover.
Just as they grabbed the gun and turned around, a bullet struck them first.
First blood to Sang Ye. He swiftly swapped his pistol for the opponent’s SMG.
Inside the house, Xiao Pai continued looting. Seeing the kill notification pop up, he sighed in satisfaction. “Nice.”
Commentator A chuckled, “After watching Song’s cautious approach when rolling against the Thai team, I almost forgot—Song actually loves a bloody start. The more chaotic, the better for him. At the very beginning, when everyone’s barely equipped, Song’s advantage is his speed. As long as he gets his hands on a gun, anyone who enters his sights is basically done for.”
Commentator B added, “That’s why Song is such a versatile player—he rises to the challenge against strong opponents. Right from the start, he’s sent a warning shot to HK.”
Backstage in the Rest Area
Yu Haotian frowned in concern. “Are they really going head-to-head with HK?”
“We can’t avoid it,” Tan Mo replied. “Every team preys on the weak. If we show weakness now, we’ll be targeted for the rest of the tournament. Especially against North American and European teams—only by playing aggressively will they hesitate to mess with us.”
So, whether Sang Ye liked it or not, he had to show dominance.
But judging from his performance at the start, Sang Ye already understood this and had adjusted his mindset accordingly.
Tan Mo watched his gameplay on the screen, his gaze softening with a faint smile.
The coach couldn’t help but praise, “Song has an incredibly high ceiling. Leading a team on the world stage at just eighteen years old, making it into the Winners’ Bracket—it’s something I never thought I’d see before. It takes both talent and leadership. He’s truly remarkable, a player who commands respect.”
“Of course,” Tan Mo responded nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s someone I chose.”
The coach shook his head, exasperated. “Yeah, yeah, I know. If it weren’t for you insisting on bringing him to the club, I’d be regretting it for life.”
Tan Mo said, “No, you really have no idea.”
“…?” The coach glanced at him in confusion.
In-Game: Minute 5
WLG lost one player. After redistributing medical supplies, they rotated along the edge of the zone while tanking damage from the blue.
Fifteen minutes in, WLG heard intense gunfire from behind a ridge.
Xiao Pai checked the kill feed. “It’s BTF.”
Sang Ye said, “BTF is shooting from the compound.”
Xiao Pai asked, “How do you know?”
Right now, all they knew was that two teams were fighting—they had no information on the exact positions of each squad.
Sang Ye said, “BTF usually locks down a position by the third circle. Gal prefers to hold buildings, and with his aim, it’s extremely difficult for anyone to breach his defenses.”
Xiao Pai was surprised. “How do you know so much?”
“I take notes.” Sang Ye replied. “Let’s go—time to third-party them.”
“D*mn, Bai Mao, that’s bold.” Xiao Pai was a little shocked. “I thought we’d rotate around them through Dragon’s Ridge. After all, we’re up against BTF.”
“You might not know this.”
“Know what?”
“Gal is afraid of me.”
“…?”
“I’m his worst nightmare.”
“……”
As WLG’s three players crept into position, two Norwegian team members were crawling behind cover, waiting for their teammates to revive them.
Meanwhile, from the third-floor windows, an enemy was laying down suppressive fire, chipping away at their health while lobbing grenades, hoping to secure the kills.
Commentator A: “Alright, Gal is as steady as ever. Just a couple more shots for the double kill! …Wait, what?”
The system flashed two kill notifications.
[WLG-Song eliminated …]
[WLG-Song eliminated …]
Commentator B laughed. “WLG abandoned their original rotation and flanked the Norwegian team without anyone noticing. They just stole both kills!”
Commentator A: “Nice, nice! Gal just did all the work for Song. Wonder how he feels about that?”
Inside the compound, Gal cursed under his breath, clearly furious.
On the global stage, every point was precious—let alone two free points stolen by Sang Ye.
In Korean, Gal spat out viciously, “You want to step into hell? Fine, I’ll make sure you do.”
As Sang Ye engaged in the fight, the blue zone had already begun closing in. The option to rotate through the weak side was gone—they had no choice but to push directly through BTF’s firepower.
Sang Ye’s rhythm was simple: take every kill opportunity, not out of greed, but because he was confident. If they could break through BTF’s position, it was far more valuable than settling for a weaker rotation.
That was just how Sang Ye played.
He and Xiao Pai worked together to pick off a BTF player inside the compound, turning the match into a 3v3.
Sang Ye made the first aggressive push, with Xiao Pai covering from behind, securing a knock.
At the window, Sang Ye and Gal came face to face, both flicking their aim at the same time.
Gal, with his deadly accuracy, landed the shot first, knocking Sang Ye.
Commentator A: “Ah! In close-range combat, Gal still has the upper hand!”
Sang Ye took a deep breath and released his mouse.
Next time, he’d get him for sure.
Gal sneered. He didn’t rush to loot Sang Ye’s body and was about to turn back inside—when a sniper round pierced straight through his head.
“……”
Commentator B: “What a clutch shot from Hu Fu! His reaction time was insane—it’s like he was just waiting for Gal! If you think about it, a one-for-one trade between Song and Gal isn’t bad at all!”
Sang Ye had deliberately double-secured the play, positioning himself by the window so that Gal’s exposed angle would line up perfectly for Huf, who was still holding from a distance.
With Gal gone, the last remaining BTF player was quickly eliminated.
Hu Fu and Xiao Pai secured control of the compound. As the zone continued to shrink, they managed to secure a third-place finish.
In the following matches, HK refused to give up their contest for the landing spot against WLG, and WLG did not back down either. After five rounds, WLG emerged victorious in four of them, though they suffered a crushing defeat in one.
This series of battles made it clear to other teams that, despite WLG’s young roster, they were not easy opponents. Before engaging them, others would now have to think twice about the risks.
By the end of the first day of the Winners’ Bracket, WLG was ranked fourth, temporarily in a safe position, while HK had fallen out of the top eight.
After the matches, Sang Ye, who was ranked third on the kill leaderboard, was interviewed.
The enthusiastic foreign host animatedly asked questions, with a translator beside him relaying them to Sang Ye: “Song, you’re officially the first 18-year-old player to take on the role of a commander in a global tournament—it’s truly impressive. Do you feel any pressure?”
Without even blinking, Sang Ye leaned into the microphone and said, “I eat pressure for breakfast.”
The domestic livestream chat exploded:
[“HAHAHAHAHAHA! He’s this cocky everywhere he goes. That’s our Sang Fugui for you!”]
The host laughed as well. “Do you have confidence in making it to the final championship match?”
Sang Ye answered smoothly, “I’d say the championship trophy already has WLG’s name engraved on it.”
The chat was flooded with laughter.
The coach, stunned for a moment, then let out a helpless chuckle—there was just no taming Sang Ye.
But that was the charm of being eighteen: fearless, daring to dream big, and possessing an unwavering hunger for victory.
On stage, Sang Ye appeared composed and confident. However, once he got into the car, he became noticeably quieter.
He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the forums. Several trending posts dominated the homepage, filled with discussions about today’s matches.
[I’ve said it before—PCL is just weak teams fighting each other. This year, they sent three teams, and NSN was completely embarrassing. Catch22 is still struggling in the losers’ bracket, and WLG—the only team that made it to the winners’ bracket—only placed fourth. Pathetic. I doubt they’ll even stay in the top eight tomorrow.]
[This is Song’s first time leading the team, okay? Isn’t this result already impressive? Can you even find a second person in the domestic scene who could do the same?]
[Fans always have excuses. Just because it’s his first time leading, we have to be understanding? I admit he’s individually skilled and has potential, but as a team, WLG definitely isn’t performing at its previous level. Without Talk, WLG isn’t the same anymore—it’s no longer a top-tier team.]
[Why are you trying to stir up drama?]
[At this stage, just making it to the finals is good enough. Stop fixating on rankings.]
[Sure, rankings don’t matter now, but do you really think they can take first place in the grand finals at this level?]
[They should stop contesting HK for drop spots before they ruin themselves.]
[…]
Sang Ye closed his phone and leaned against the car window, staring at the deep night outside.
In esports, if a team doesn’t deliver an absolutely stunning performance, netizens will always find reasons to criticize both the players and the team from every possible angle.
That was exactly why Yu Haotian had told them not to check the forums over the past few days.
There was still another match tomorrow. After a brief review session, the coach dismissed everyone, reminding them to get some rest and conserve their energy. He also specifically warned them not to watch any other matches.
At 10:30 PM, Sang Ye was already in bed. After scrolling through a few videos, he turned off his phone, pulled up the blanket, and prepared to sleep.
But for someone who usually fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, this time, even by midnight, he still wasn’t drowsy.
Tan Mo had already gone to sleep.
The man was always quiet when sleeping, his breathing barely audible.
Outside, the ground was still covered in snow, making the moonlight unusually bright. A cool, silvery glow filled the room.
Unable to sleep, Sang Ye got up, moving carefully as he picked up the plush blanket draped at the foot of the bed.
He stepped onto the balcony outside the room. The moment he opened the door, the freezing air hit him, making his teeth chatter twice. Quickly, he wrapped the blanket tightly around himself.
Leaning against the railing, he placed his hands on the cold metal—only to immediately pull them back.
Standing in the freezing night, watching the silent cityscape, his restless thoughts finally began to quiet down.
Sang Ye had rarely ever suffered from insomnia, but tonight, he couldn’t stop thinking about tomorrow’s match.
Should they continue contesting HK for drop spots?
If they lost to HK tomorrow, would they fall out of the top eight?
If they dropped into the losers’ bracket, how would they fight for those four remaining spots?
Would a single misstep mean there was no way to recover?
Just as his mind spiraled into endless speculation, he heard the sound of a door opening behind him.
Sang Ye turned around.
Tan Mo had come outside.
“Did I wake you up?” Sang Ye saw that Tan Mo was only wearing his pajamas and pulled the blanket off himself to hand it over.
Tan Mo draped it over his shoulders, then pulled Sang Ye into his arms, wrapping them both inside the soft, oversized blanket.
“I’m a light sleeper anyway,” he said. “I would’ve woken up either way.”
Sang Ye had just been hit by a blast of cold air. He shivered and hissed through his teeth before burrowing back into Tan Mo’s embrace, quickly enveloped in warmth.
Holding him from behind, Tan Mo asked, “Can’t sleep?”
Sang Ye chuckled sheepishly. “A little.”
Tan Mo pulled him closer, resting his chin on Sang Ye’s white head.
His heart ached for him.
Esports players might appear lighthearted and carefree on the surface, cracking jokes during live streams, but the pressure they carried was unimaginable. Once the season started, no one had it easy.
Players feared becoming the weak link. Shot-callers feared making the wrong decisions. And for teams sitting at the top, if they didn’t deliver results, they would be met with relentless online harassment, mockery, and hate.
But some would say, Your salary is high. So what if you go through this?
Which was why no one truly understood them.
Because in this profession, the only thing that mattered was winning—being the strongest.
Sang Ye didn’t have to bear so much anxiety. But because he had been pushed into the role of shot-caller, he had taken all of it upon himself.
“You did great today. It’s been a tough stretch for you,” Tan Mo said. “I’ll be able to play in the next phase, so don’t worry.”
Sang Ye tilted his head back, but he couldn’t see behind him. “The team doctor cleared you?”
Tan Mo lowered his gaze, frowning slightly. “Why do you always listen to the team doctor? If it were up to him, I’d already be retired.”
“…” Sang Ye turned his head forward. “Then maybe you should take it easy.”
Tan Mo leaned in, capturing the edge of Sang Ye’s ear between his lips and biting down—firmly.
Sang Ye winced in pain and let out a yelp.
Tan Mo released him and reached out to rub his ear gently. “I can play… but you’ll have to keep an eye on me.”
Sang Ye understood what he meant. His face flushed red, but he kept his expression blank and let out a drawn-out “Oh—” in response.
Still, deep inside, he was happy that Tan Mo could return to the game. The weight on his shoulders suddenly felt much lighter.
Tan Mo asked, “Can you sleep now?”
Sang Ye nodded, but then shook his head. “Stay with me a little longer.”
Tan Mo raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Sang Ye tilted his chin toward the distance. “Look how nice the moon is tonight.”
Tan Mo followed his gaze.
A silver-white full moon hung in the deep purple sky, like something out of a fairy tale.
He chuckled softly and pulled the blanket tighter around Sang Ye’s shoulders. “So you do have a romantic side.”
“…”
Sang Ye decided the moment still felt nice, so he didn’t argue.
Tan Mo held him close, and the two stood quietly on the balcony, gazing at the moon.
As he inhaled the soft, clean scent of Sang Ye’s hair, Tan Mo suddenly said, “I’m actually really scared.”
Sang Ye’s heart clenched. “Of what?”
“I’m afraid of suddenly losing control, of crashing down,” Tan Mo admitted. “Afraid that I’ll be the reason the team falls apart.”
Every time Tan Mo stepped onto the stage, it felt like walking a tightrope. He never knew when an accident might happen. No matter how strong his willpower was, he wasn’t invincible.
It had happened before—back at the Intercontinental Championship. If Sang Ye hadn’t stepped up that day, WLG wouldn’t have even made it to Berlin.
Wrapped in the shared warmth of the blanket, Sang Ye raised his hand and grasped Tan Mo’s wrist. “It’s okay. This is just another kind of challenge. There will always be a way to overcome it. Even if, even if, even if, even if—” He repeated himself several times before finally continuing, “Even if we miss out on the championship, WLG can still keep pushing forward.”
Tan Mo’s gaze froze for a moment. He lowered his head to look at Sang Ye. “Don’t you have to win the championship? If you don’t… then what?”
Like it would be the end of the world.
Sang Ye furrowed his brows and awkwardly turned to face him. “Then what?”
“…”
Tan Mo didn’t know how to respond.
He started to wonder if anything Sang Ye had said that drunken night at the barbecue place could be taken seriously.
“…Nothing. I just assumed—you really look like you want to win.”
“Of course I want to win.” Sang Ye met Tan Mo’s gaze with unwavering seriousness. “I came here for the championship. Who wouldn’t want to win? And for some reason… I just have this feeling that we will.”
“…”
A strange kind of intuition?
Tan Mo mused, “I didn’t expect you to be so… optimistic and open-minded.”
Sang Ye suddenly remembered something, and his gaze flickered away in embarrassment. “There was a time when I wasn’t…”
But halfway through his sentence, Sang Ye pressed his lips together.
Tan Mo asked, “What’s wrong?”
Sang Ye glanced at him, then rested his forehead against Tan Mo’s chest.
Before coming to the global tournament, there had been a time when he was incredibly stubborn—convinced that winning the championship was the only option, that if he didn’t take the title, his life would be over, and he would never be able to have the person he wanted.
Because he believed that only as a champion would he be worthy of Tan Mo.
But gradually, Sang Ye realized how foolish that idea was.
Maybe it was because Tan Mo had openly called him his “kapu wo” (Couple) on stream.
Maybe it was because Tan Mo never hesitated to claim him in front of foreign players.
Or maybe it was the way Tan Mo always took care of him, growing less and less reserved about showing his affection.
And then, every single time they argued—no matter how angry he was—Tan Mo was always the one to apologize first, the one to break the stalemate.
After everything they had been through, there came a moment when Sang Ye suddenly understood: Tan Mo really did love him.
—Even if he had barely scraped through elementary school, was hopeless at foreign languages, could get himself lost just by stepping outside, had more flaws than strengths, wasn’t a champion, and had achieved nothing of significance… it didn’t matter. Tan Mo loved him. He wouldn’t leave just because there were better, more exceptional people in the world.
And now, Sang Ye was certain of it.
What determined whether he could be with Tan Mo wasn’t a championship title. It wasn’t about whether he was worthy or not. It was about them truly loving each other.
Thinking of all this, warmth spread through Sang Ye’s chest. His eyes sparkled as he lifted his head and stood on tiptoe, jumping up slightly—almost knocking into Tan Mo’s chin. “Talk, I—”
Tan Mo looked at him, patiently waiting for what he was about to say. “Hmm?”
Just then, a cold breeze, damp with evening dew, swept past them, ruffling Sang Ye’s white hair. The heat in his chest cooled slightly.
He swallowed, fingers tightening around the fabric of Tan Mo’s sleepwear, his lashes lowering as he dropped back onto his heels.
Not now.
“The last time we went to the bar, do you know what that Russian team guy—what’s his name, something-something Tractor—said?” Sang Ye lifted his head again, his expression returning to normal.
Tan Mo chuckled at Sang Ye’s attempt at Russian names, which always sounded like “Lavlasky” to him, and played along. “What did he say?”
“That going all out and enjoying the game aren’t contradictory. Esports is something fun. Even though we bear immense pain, we endure it willingly because of our love for the game.” Sang Ye repeated, “That’s what he said. I used to be here chasing idols, but now, I think I’ve fallen in love with competitive gaming. I want to win the global championship because it’s the highest honor in this profession. I want to fight for it, and I want my team to have it. It’s proof of our passion, and also the reward for our suffering.”
The moonlight tonight was truly beautiful. It shone on the boy’s clean, sharp features, illuminating his dark eyes, which gleamed with clarity and determination. The soft light seemed to flow over his delicate face, making his features appear almost translucent.
He looked as if he was glowing.
Tan Mo stared at Sang Ye for a long moment, his expression calm before he nodded. “You’re right. That’s amazing. I hope you’ll always love this game. Now, let me kiss you.”
Sang Ye’s brow furrowed in surprise. “Huh?”
Tan Mo leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Then, as if finding the position inconvenient, he pulled Sang Ye closer, shifting them onto the couch against the balcony wall, settling Sang Ye onto his lap.
Wrapped in the soft blanket, they weren’t cold. Sang Ye’s face flushed red in an instant, his lashes lowering as he sat quietly. Tan Mo gently nipped at his soft lips, wetting them before leaning in again for another brief taste.
He wasn’t sure if it was the clarity and determination in Sang Ye’s eyes that made him unusually alluring tonight, or if it was the instinctive thrill of being close to him, but Tan Mo felt a surge of excitement. Even with his loose sleep pants, he was starting to feel a little uncomfortable.
The night breeze drifted over the balcony.
Finally, before things got out of control, Tan Mo pulled away.
His handsome face was slightly flushed as he ran a finger along the corner of Sang Ye’s lips. “Go to sleep. You have a match tomorrow.”
Sang Ye’s mind was still running hot. He frowned slightly, seemingly dissatisfied. Then, in a quiet rustle, he rolled up his sleep shirt, bit the fabric between his teeth, and let out a muffled voice from deep in his throat.
“Touch me. Touch me…”
“…”
Tan Mo took a deep breath and gently pulled down Sang Ye’s sleep shirt. “Spare me, and spare yourself too. Be good, okay?”
…
The next day, there were still five matches to play.
HK insisted on contesting hot-drop locations.
WLG had already mentally prepared for this, knowing that expecting a top European team to back down was unrealistic.
Sang Ye’s gunplay was incredibly smooth today, and in every match, he shredded HK’s lineup into pieces.
By the third match, Commentator A sighed, “HK’s points are too low now—they won’t be able to qualify. Looks like they’re headed to the lower bracket to fight for survival.”
Commentator B added, “That’s how European teams are. If you don’t beat them into submission, they won’t back off.”
Then Commentator A chuckled, “I’ve noticed that WLG always seems to unleash their full power on the final day. Just look at Song today—his aim is rock solid.”
Commentator B agreed, “There’s been a lot of negativity online lately, but these young players are still improving steadily under all this pressure. Their resilience is incredible.”
In the final match, WLG rotated into the zone in Phase Four and ended up crashing into BTF’s compound.
Sang Ye peeked out from a window, only to be immediately hit by an enemy’s sightline.
He was quick to retreat, and the damage wasn’t fatal. Without hesitation, he shifted toward the backdoor, listening carefully as footsteps inside the house moved toward the window he had just left.
Sang Ye kicked open the door. The enemy inside spun around in alarm, but Sang Ye had already fired first, landing perfect shots into his back.
The system notification popped up—[Gal has been eliminated.]
The fifth match concluded.
When the overall leaderboard was displayed, WLG had climbed steadily to second place, securing a direct spot in the Grand Finals.
At that moment, the live chat was flooded with messages spamming WLG’s four players’ IDs, with Song’s name dominating the screen.
On the forums, celebratory posts exploded, hailing PCL’s first team to qualify. Just yesterday, the top trending threads filled with criticism had completely collapsed.
Sang Ye had secured the most kills of the entire match.
After the game, the host once again handed him the microphone.
“That was incredible! I’m really curious—what’s your secret to maintaining such a strong performance today?”
In the WLG lounge, everyone was feeling relieved and relaxed.
Tan Mo took the phone handed to him and glanced at the screen—it showed the restaurant that Xiao Pai had chosen for dinner. Tonight, WLG planned to head into the city for a big feast.
The menu listed an average price of 2,500.
—Euros.
Tan Mo let out a displeased hiss and looked at Xiao Pai. “You think my money just falls from the sky?”
“Brother!” Xiao Pai immediately started spewing nonsense, shamelessly pleading, “We don’t get to travel abroad often! It’s not like we eat like this every day! What’s wrong with treating ourselves just this once?”
With a cold expression, Tan Mo handed the phone back. “Pick another place.”
Meanwhile, on the TV, Sang Ye was answering the interviewer. “Keeping a relaxed mindset and getting enough sleep.”
The host followed up, “With such an intense competition schedule, how do you manage to stay relaxed and ensure proper sleep? Can you share your secret with us?”
Sang Ye clasped his hands behind his back and leaned toward the mic. “I don’t do much, but someone helps me de-stress, listens to me, and reminds me to sleep.”
The host asked, “Who?”
Sang Ye replied, “Not telling you.”
The host burst into laughter. “You’re too cute! Do you have a girlfriend?”
Sang Ye answered, “No.”
The host’s eyes glimmered mischievously. “A boyfriend, then?”
Hearing the translation, Sang Ye froze. “…”
He glanced at the host, then lowered his gaze to his shoes, lips pressed together.
Sensing something unusual, the host carefully followed up, “Yes? Or No?”
Sang Ye looked at her again.
One second passed…
Two seconds passed…
Three seconds passed…
Even though they spoke different languages, as they locked eyes, a smile gradually surfaced in both of their gazes.
Finally, Sang Ye couldn’t hold it in any longer—he lowered his head, the corners of his lips curling up.
The host smacked her forehead. “Oh my gosh…”
Xiao Pai had just taken Tan Mo’s phone when he glanced at the interview on TV, completely baffled. “What does that mean?”
Tan Mo cleared his throat, then casually took his phone back from Xiao Pai. With a hint of laughter in his voice, he changed his mind:
“Let’s just eat at this place.”
Author’s Note:
Talk: Tonight, we’re celebrating my wedding banquet—doesn’t matter if it’s a little expensive.