Chapter 80 – I’m Always Here.
The person on the other end also cleared their throat. When she spoke, her pronunciation was as crisp and articulate as a news anchor’s: “Hello, Xiao Tan.”
Tan Mo was caught off guard.
He still remembered the note inside the pea pastry box—Be good to my son and Or I’ll chop you up with a knife.
Yet, the voice he was hearing now was completely different from the terrifying image he had conjured of a woman wielding a cleaver. Instead, she sounded educated, well-mannered, and even good-natured.
The tension in Tan Mo’s back muscles slowly eased. Without realizing it, he brushed his lips lightly against Sang Ye’s shoulder—just to calm himself down.
Not bad.
Sang Ye’s mom wasn’t as intimidating as he had imagined.
But then—
A voice from the speaker:
“So, may I ask, exactly where are you lying down right now?”
“……”
Sang Ye bolted out of bed.
Tan Mo held the phone, originally lying on the bed with one arm covering his eyes. As he listened, he slowly tilted his head back in despair, then eventually sat up against the headboard before slumping forward onto his knees.
Fang Yuerong’s voice was gentle, but her words were sharp—almost as if she were wielding a knife.
Under the relentless onslaught from the other end, Tan Mo could only manage occasional responses: “Mm,” “Yes,” “Understood,” “Got it,” “It won’t happen again.”
Finally, with a stern warning—”Until your relationship is confirmed, you are forbidden from sharing a bed with my son!”—the call ended on both sides.
Tan Mo raised a hand to rub his eyelids, looking somewhat drained.
As the voice call interface disappeared, his expression suddenly turned quiet upon seeing the chat screen.
Five seconds later.
He tapped the top-left corner of the screen to exit.
In Sang Ye’s WeChat list, Tan Mo’s chat was still pinned at the top. Below it were messages from frequently contacted family and friends, along with various group chats.
Tan Mo scrolled down slightly and finally spotted a chat labeled [Qing Feng.] Without opening it, he could only see the words [Voice Call.]
Just as he was about to tap on the chat, a slender, fair hand grabbed the phone from the bed before he could.
Sang Ye, now dressed in sleepwear and freshly washed up, stood beside the bed, checking his phone. “What did my mom say to you?”
Tan Mo reached out his hand. “Lend me your phone to check the files in the group chat.”
His own phone screen was cracked, making it difficult to read when there was too much text.
Sang Ye glanced at him quickly, then handed over the phone before asking again, “What did my mom say?”
After taking the phone, Tan Mo didn’t open the group chat. Instead, he scrolled to the second page of the chat list.
The chat labeled [Qing Feng] had disappeared.
Tan Mo’s fingertips hovered for a moment before he calmly returned the phone. Then, he flopped onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow as he spoke in a muffled voice, “No sharing a bed until the relationship is confirmed.”
Sang Ye, who had already lifted the blanket and placed one foot on the bed, preparing to lie down again: “……”
Tan Mo turned his face slightly to look at Sang Ye and asked, “What do you think?”
“What?” Sang Ye met Tan Mo’s gaze, then after a moment, understood. He looked a little uneasy, lowered his head, and slipped back into his slippers. “I… I’ll go buy breakfast. You can sleep a little longer.”
Tan Mo let out a low “Mm” and buried himself back into the pillow.
He was getting impatient. He had promised not to pressure Sang Ye, but in this moment, he couldn’t help but want an answer.
Tan Mo didn’t understand what Sang Ye was still hesitating about—or waiting for. Aside from the last step, they had already done everything. They had practically admitted their relationship in an interview. To Tan Mo, coming clean was just a matter of time, wasn’t it?
But at this moment, maybe because he hadn’t received parental approval, or maybe because of that [Qing Feng] ID, an unprecedented sense of uncertainty crept into him.
Maybe Sang Ye wanted to wait until the competition was over to deal with personal matters. The tournament had already consumed enough of his focus—maybe he simply didn’t have the energy for anything else.
—That was the explanation Tan Mo gave himself.
The sound of the door closing echoed through the room—Sang Ye had already changed and left to buy breakfast.
Still lying on the bed, Tan Mo raised a hand and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.
So who the hell is Qing Feng?
What exactly is Sang Ye hiding?
Tan Mo had searched online last night. It wasn’t a player ID, not a Douyin influencer, and there was almost no trace of it on the internet.
To him, the name [Qing Feng] sounded like some sleazy nightclub gigolo, and it annoyed him to no end.
Yet, at some point, a flicker of intuition struck—something about the name [Qing Feng] felt oddly familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere before.
But no matter how he chased the thought, he still had no leads.
Under the blanket, Tan Mo curled up and held his head in frustration. He regretted it.
He shouldn’t have played the gentleman last night. He should have just checked Sang Ye’s phone.
He cared.
He cared so damn much.
…
When Sang Ye returned, Tan Mo was sitting on the bed, wearing a loose cotton T-shirt and long pants, fiddling with his Leica camera.
Sang Ye stood at the doorway, hesitating for quite a while with the breakfast bag in hand.
Tan Mo looked up, water droplets still clinging to his face. “You’re back?”
Sang Ye, looking embarrassed, walked over, placed the breakfast on the bedside table, and took off his jacket. “You’re not going to watch it right in front of me, are you?”
Tan Mo replied, “We both took part in it. I can’t be the only one watching, right?”
“……”
Sang Ye took off his sweater as well and changed into a pair of sleep pants, preparing to get into bed.
But Tan Mo stopped him with a hand. “Don’t get on.”
Sang Ye frowned. “Why?”
Tan Mo: “Your mom won’t allow it.”
“……”
Ignoring him, Sang Ye stubbornly burrowed into the blankets and sat down next to Tan Mo.
“You don’t tell her, I won’t tell her.”
“Clingy little thing…” Tan Mo muttered, turning to open the nightstand drawer and pulling out two trays.
Tan Mo had mild OCD and disliked eating in bed, but Sang Ye enjoyed it, so he had compromised on this matter.
Sang Ye had brought back sandwiches and bread. He laid down some paper, placed the food on the trays, and casually picked a flavor to eat.
Tan Mo draped an arm around the back of Sang Ye’s neck, holding the camera with both hands as he operated it, playing last night’s video.
“……” Sang Ye choked, nearly spitting out bread crumbs. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his hand and turned to look at Tan Mo. “Can you not watch this right now?”
“Now’s the perfect time.” Tan Mo kept his eyes on the camera, rubbing Sang Ye’s fluffy white hair in a soothing gesture as he said flatly, “What’s there to be shy about? It’s just some teasing. It’s not like we actually—”
“Fine, fine! Watch it, just stop talking!” Sang Ye hurriedly interrupted.
Tan Mo ruffled his hair again. “So hard to please.”
The video played, filling the room with subtle, ambiguous sounds of water. As they talked, their voices were quieter, carrying a tone different from usual. Some things Sang Ye had completely forgotten he’d even said, and now, hearing them in broad daylight made him want to bury himself alive.
What surprised him even more was how, from a third-person perspective, he didn’t look as resistant as he had imagined. He was even… smiling while looking up at Tan Mo.
Tan Mo remained silent, the hand wrapped around Sang Ye’s neck slowly slipping down, slipping beneath the loose collar of his shirt.
Sang Ye’s chewing slowed. His gaze became unfocused as he stared at the camera screen, fingers unconsciously pushing crumbs into his mouth before absentmindedly licking the tips.
For a long moment, the video’s audio fell into silence. Neither of them spoke.
Then, suddenly, a sharp, strained gasp cut through the air, like a string pulled too tight and trembling under tension.
Sang Ye’s breath hitched—then grew rapid.
Noticing his reaction, Tan Mo lowered his eyes.
At that moment, Sang Ye lifted his gaze to look at him, his pupils shimmering with moisture. His flushed face was filled with restless agitation.
Tan Mo sighed softly in his heart, withdrawing his hand from Sang Ye’s collar. He cupped the boy’s face, turning it toward him, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, whispering, “You sound beautiful when you call out like that.”
Then, he turned off the camera, picked up the remote, and switched on the TV.
“Want to watch the replay of last night’s match?”
“…Oh.”
Sang Ye knew that if they kept watching the video, things would escalate. He adjusted his position, leaning against the pillows, and continued eating breakfast, his face still flushed.
The whole day was free, so the two of them lounged in the room, practically growing roots in the bed. When they got tired of watching TV, they napped. When they woke up, Sang Ye would drape himself over Tan Mo, his eyes curving into crescent moons as he whispered little nothings.
Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a warm glow. Tan Mo took Sang Ye’s hand, watching how the light danced over his soft, fair fingertips. Then, shifting his gaze to Sang Ye, he saw how the white-haired boy’s sharp little chin and pure black eyes shone when he smiled—so bright and untainted, like a child, or perhaps a small, fluffy dog.
Tan Mo interlocked their fingers and brought Sang Ye’s hand to his lips, momentarily pushing thoughts of [Qing Feng] to the back of his mind.
He would trust Sang Ye unconditionally, just as Sang Ye had given him unconditional admiration.
—
By late afternoon, Tan Mo was called away by his coach. Not wanting to be alone in the room, Sang Ye tidied up a bit and left with him.
After dinner, they parted ways.
When Sang Ye arrived at the practice room, he found Xiao Pai and the others all there.
He paused for a moment, then walked over to his computer. “There aren’t any scrims today, right?”
Xiao Pai, busy typing on his phone, responded, “Yeah, but there’s nothing else to do in the room anyway… Speaking of which, I didn’t see you all day. You were in the room, right? Weren’t you bored?”
“…” Sang Ye pretended not to hear and turned on his computer.
Bored? Not at all.
Teams that had already advanced could take a short break today, but over at the Mercedes-Benz Arena, the competition was still fierce as teams fought for the last eight spots.
Sang Ye pulled up a live stream and saw Catch22 and HK leading the pack.
However, NSN was struggling—not only was the circle unfavorable for them, but several of their decision-making moments had been shaky.
Sang Ye had a feeling—NSN was running out of steam.
And sure enough, in the final day of survival matches, NSN failed to seize their last opportunity and fell short of reaching the grand finals.
Xiao Pai watched anxiously. Though he despised the NSN club, one of his good friends, Shine, was on the team. A long time ago, they had made a promise: even if they weren’t on the same team, they would meet each other on the global stage.
That night, just as Nuo Nuo called him for a voice chat, Xiao Pai, for the first time, rejected his beloved Sister Nuo Nuo and called Shine instead.
He spent two hours on the freezing cold balcony talking on the phone. Through the closed balcony door, bits and pieces of his conversation could be heard.
“…Xia Zhiyan, pull yourself together. You’re still young, there will be plenty of chances in the future…”
“I’m not nervous. Tan Shen is about to play, and we’ve got that insanely good little white-haired guy. With the two of them here… You wouldn’t understand that feeling—it’s so reassuring…”
“Yeah, we can win. WLG has never known defeat. This time, we’re going to take the victory beautifully.”
With that, the top sixteen teams for the global finals were officially determined. Two teams from PCL had advanced. Over the next four days, they would fight with everything they had, aiming for the highest podium.
—
Day One of the Finals Begins.
The team doctor was also riding in the car with them.
Sang Ye glanced back at the doctor, then looked forward again. He sat upright for a while before lowering his gaze and softly asking, “Do you still need me?”
Tan Mo was momentarily startled and turned to look at him. “What?”
Sang Ye scratched at the corner of his eye, his fair cheeks tinged with a faint red. “Now that the team doctor is here… do you still need me?”
Tan Mo’s eyes flickered slightly. Seizing the moment when no one was paying attention, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Sang Ye’s cheek, whispering, “Always. Forever.”
…
As they entered the final stage, the esports arena seemed grander than ever.
When Tan Mo stepped into the entrance tunnel, a spotlight hit his eyes. The burning sensation brushed over his eyelids, leaving behind nothing but a vast expanse of blackness in his vision.
Inside the Mercedes-Benz Arena, the outlines of the audience seating loomed in shadowy waves.
Suddenly, a spasm seized Tan Mo’s wrist, cramping involuntarily. His chest tightened as if a boulder had crashed down on it, throwing his breathing into disarray.
He lowered his head, shook out his wrist, and forced himself to regain control—making sure no one around him noticed anything was wrong.
…
On Day One of the Finals, WLG finished in the middle of the pack—no major mistakes, but nothing particularly spectacular either. Their performance was stable and unremarkable.
After the final match ended, everyone took off their headsets.
Suddenly, the promo video started playing, and the entire venue erupted with the deafening sounds of gunfire and explosions.
Almost the instant the sound blasted through the speakers, Sang Ye reacted instinctively—turning sideways without a second thought and immediately reaching out to cover Tan Mo’s ears.
At that precise moment, the camera panned across them, capturing the man and the boy facing each other at an intimate distance.
Tan Mo’s face was pale, his eyelashes lowered. After half a second, he lifted his gaze and stared straight at Sang Ye—a look that made the entire livestream audience hold their breath in an instant.
Then, Tan Mo raised a hand, grasping the slender wrist of the boy in front of him, and turned his face slightly toward Sang Ye’s palm.
The livestream exploded in excitement, with fans shouting their ship name in unison.
Many of them clearly saw it—Tan Mo had hidden a kiss in Sang Ye’s palm.
However, the officials still gave no response to the moment.
…
Day Two
WLG continued to climb steadily, keeping right on the heels of the leading teams.
…
Day Three
WLG seemed to have found their rhythm, surpassing BTF, who had been holding the third-place position, and securing a spot in the top three.
However, this was also the most grueling phase of the tournament.
Looking at the scores, with a little more effort, they had a real shot at winning the championship—but there was no absolute advantage.
Because everyone would be fighting with everything they had in the final stretch, even a single mistake on the fourth day could cost them the championship.
Even Xiao Pai, who was known for having nerves of steel, sat silently with his earphones in on the team bus that day, saying nothing.
—
Day Four – The Final Battle
As Tan Mo stepped through the security door leading to the stage, he could hear the thundering music and the roaring cheers of the crowd.
Yet, his steps felt heavier and heavier.
The floor beneath him seemed to sink and soften, as if it would collapse underfoot.
Just before he reached the stairs leading up to the stage, Tan Mo suddenly stopped.
He reached out and grabbed Sang Ye’s hand.
Sang Ye turned back, confused. “What’s wrong?”
Tan Mo lifted his head.
Even in the dim lighting, it was clear—his face had lost all color.
A sudden hollowness struck Sang Ye’s heart.
…
There was no time to turn back.
By the side of the stage, a pillar jutted out—and Tan Mo pressed Sang Ye against it, desperately taking in his scent.
The air was filled with deafening noise, and overhead, spotlights swept wildly across the stage. Yet, every time the light approached this corner, it barely skimmed past the pillar, narrowly missing them.
Finally, Sang Ye could feel the tension ease in the muscles of the man beneath his palms—Tan Mo was calming down.
Only then did Sang Ye slowly exhale in relief.
They pulled apart slightly, both of their faces flushed unnaturally red.
Tan Mo lowered his head, his long lashes trembling. His voice was husky and unsteady—a barely audible murmur: “Song… I’m scared…”
Sang Ye steadied his breathing, his fingers tightening around the nape of Tan Mo’s neck, pulling him closer.
His gaze was clear and unwavering as he locked eyes with him.
“I’m right here. I always will be. I will protect you—forever.”
To be your armor—your only safe haven.