Chapter 9 – Sweet double queue
Sang Ye, devastated by the loss of his idol, couldn’t accept it. With red eyes and heavy breathing, he climbed out of the window on the second floor.
Tan Mo could still hear his muffled sobs through the headset.
He glanced at the phone.
On the screen, the fair-skinned and chubby little tyrant’s face turned beet red, his lips trembled as he bit down to hold back his tears.
The small figure was so endearing it almost broke Tan Mo’s heart.
The livestream chat, knowing the ID: [wlg_Talk] belonged to Xiao Pai, was heartless and laughing until they cried.
From that moment on, clips of the duo’s game started circulating wildly on Weibo, forums, and Tieba, quickly gaining popularity. One related topic even quietly made its way onto the trending search list.
Sang Ye jumped into a small car parked by the street.
Tan Mo followed him and slipped into the passenger seat.
Sang Ye sat still, not moving.
Tan Mo glanced at him and said, “How about I drive?”
Sang Ye numbly replied, “Get out.”
“……”
[“Hahahahaha! This reaction is exactly like how my girlfriend acts after we argue! No doubt Talk is about to start making excuses.”]
Tan Mo cleared his throat, trying to hide his awkwardness: “I didn’t think much of it at the time. Besides, the game has its rules…”
“Get out.”
“……”
Two seconds later.
Tan Mo stood on the empty street as Sang Ye drove away.
The audience, seeing the e-sports ice prince in such a miserable state for the first time, burst into thunderous laughter. In the post-production cuts, some fans even added a special effect of autumn wind sweeping fallen leaves behind Tan Mo.
His in-game character remained standing in place.
Tan Mo muted his mic, leaned back against his chair, and pressed his slender hand against his throbbing temple. His sharp jawline tensed slightly.
As the only child in his family, Tan Mo had been a prodigy, growing up with constant praise and attention. This was the first time someone had given him the cold shoulder.
Sang Ye had made his stance clear, both in words and actions. At this point, Tan Mo felt like pursuing the issue any further would be degrading.
Sang Ye drove towards the outskirts of the city, gradually calming down.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the sound of an engine suddenly roared from behind.
Sang Ye thought it was someone coming to pick a fight. He prepared to jump out and engage in a gunfight, thinking a target practice would do him some good right now.
Then, out of nowhere, a deep, magnetic voice came through his headset, lazy and slightly resigned:
“Don’t be mad. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have killed your idol right in front of you.”
Sang Ye froze for a moment, a fleeting moment of embarrassment flashed through him, but before he could process it, it was drowned by a fresh wave of anger.
The thought of Talk being eliminated filled his throat with a hot, bitter sensation, and he slammed his foot on the gas.
Tan Mo sped up to keep pace.
The two cars chased each other down the highway.
The livestream exploded with excitement.
[“Wow! Fast & Furious 10 is nothing without you two.”]
[“Forget Fast & Furious! Open your eyes wide, ! This is a wife-chasing crematorium!!!”]
[“If someone had told me before today that Talk, the ultimate straight guy, could be this good at comforting people, I would’ve laughed to death. TAT So, when did he learn how to do this?!”]
“Keep driving, and you’ll end up in the ocean,” Tan Mo said. “Stop the car, and I’ll let you shoot me twice.”
Sang Ye sniffed, finally unable to hold it in, speaking with both grievance and frustration: “Even if I kill you, Talk won’t come back!”
Chat: [“Hahahaha, baby! Talk didn’t actually die, you know?”]
Tan Mo, half amused and half exasperated, softened his tone to keep the little streamer from getting any more upset. He finally admitted:
“Talk is still around, I…”
Before he could finish, Song’s in-game ID suddenly turned gray, and his car, still speeding, crashed straight into a building.
Tan Mo hit the brakes and blinked, thinking the other had simply rage-quit.
He checked Song’s livestream on his phone.
—Black screen.
Turns out, he had disconnected.
“…”
Sang Ye sat in his now pitch-black room, hands still in the gaming position, frozen like someone had suddenly pulled the plug.
Footsteps echoed from his roommate outside.
Sang Ye used his phone for light, only to realize that before going live, he had forgotten to plug in his charger. His battery was completely dead.
Left with no choice, he felt his way towards the door in the dark. As he passed the foot of the bed, his toe collided with the wooden frame with a loud “thunk.”
“Hiss—”
Sang Ye leaned against the wall, bending over, and stood motionless in the dark for a while. Holding back his tears, he slowly straightened up and continued walking forward.
He was currently living in an old, run-down apartment in the bustling city center. It was a dorm arranged by his guild. Not only was the environment poor, but the power also kept going out unexpectedly.
In his first week there, Sang Ye wanted to find a place on his own, but the guild rejected his request, citing management difficulties.
If he refused, they would bring up the breach of contract.
In the living room outside, his roommate Liu Mingxuan was using his phone to check the main power switch. Seeing Sang Ye come out, Liu gave him a sidelong glance, his tone dripping with sarcasm: “What kind of luck have you been having lately? First Kay, now Talk—you’re leeching all the traffic.”
Liu Mingxuan was in the same guild and also played PUBG, but he had been in the industry longer than Sang Ye. He always seemed to want to join a professional team, but after all these years, he was still just a streamer.
Sang Ye figured he must have watched tonight’s stream and didn’t feel like responding. He pointed his chin at the power switch. “What’s the problem?”
Liu Mingxuan glanced out at the darkened neighborhood and sighed, “The power’s out.”
Sang Ye acknowledged with an “oh,” then turned back toward his room.
“Hey!” Liu Mingxuan tried to stop him, eager to chat more. “Do you really not know, or are you just playing dumb for show? The person you duo’d with today was…”
“Bang!”
Sang Ye responded with the cold sound of the door slamming shut.
Liu Mingxuan scoffed, “What’s with the attitude? You sure looked like you were acting well during the stream.”
Back in his room, Sang Ye plugged in his phone and collapsed onto the bed, ignoring everything else.
He buried his face into the pillow, unable to stop thinking about seeing Talk in the game tonight.
He had been so close to Talk, just a street away. It was a distance he had spent five years trying to close, but then his ridiculous teammate…
Sang Ye bit his lip, his eyes welling up again. He clenched his fist and pounded the bed, flipping over forcefully and pulling the blanket over his head.
From under the blanket came muffled whimpering sounds.
But after a while, the sounds abruptly stopped.
Sang Ye pulled the blanket off in confusion.
He suddenly remembered that there was a girl present at the time too—she seemed to be Nuo Nuo, a pretty streamer from the Maoya platform’s beauty section.
Talk used to never play with girls, but now he was even bringing one along…
As he thought about it, the pain in his stubbed toe started throbbing again.
Sang Ye curled up, hugging his foot, wrapping himself into a ball like a cocoon.
In the darkness, faint sniffles occasionally broke the silence.
He stayed like that, nursing a slightly heavy heart, and drifted off to sleep.
When Sang Ye woke up again, the lights in the room were blazing, and his fully charged phone was vibrating like crazy beside him.
He reached for his phone, brought it to his ear, and answered weakly, “Hello…”
“Ancestor! I’ve called you like 800 times, and you didn’t answer!” Jiang Bobai exaggeratedly yelled on the other end of the line. “You’ve made it to the trending list again!”
“…?”
Rubbing his eyes, Sang Ye swiped open WeChat and saw the link Jiang Bobai had sent him.
[Share] #HowFunnyIsItNotToRecognizeYourIdol#
“…??”
What does this have to do with me?
He clicked the link, and the top trending post on Weibo read:
Chicken News V:
[Tonight, Talk queued up with a true superfan (not really), and the fan didn’t recognize him the entire time. What’s even funnier is that Talk never revealed himself. The two provided so many iconic moments; every frame is pure comedy [sly smile].]
Sang Ye’s mind cleared up a bit, though his expression darkened.
He read the post again, and the more he read, the more uncomfortable he felt.
He had to admit he was a little jealous.
Both were fans, but some could only watch their idol from afar, while others got to fight side-by-side with him.
And this supposed “superfan”?
They were on voice chat and still didn’t recognize Talk?
If it were him, even if Talk used a voice changer or stayed silent, Sang Ye could recognize him just from his gameplay alone.
“Fake fan…” Sang Ye muttered.
Below the post was a video with a black thumbnail and four bold characters in the center: Sweet Duo Queue.
Sang Ye didn’t want to watch Talk’s “sweet duo” with someone else—his heart was already sour—but he couldn’t resist clicking the video anyway.
Immediately, a voice loud enough to rattle his brain rang out—
“Hate you! I won’t play with you anymore!!!”
“……………………”
…
Tan Mo felt like he had failed as an idol.
Trying to get closer to his little fan only ended up making the other party dislike him.
In the meeting room, Tan Mo lazily rested his left hand on the table, holding a pen and doodling.
Xiao Pai spoke earnestly, “Tan Shen, you need to maintain some distance with your fans. The closer you get, the more likely you are to shatter their fantasies. People like your cold and unattainable image, so don’t let your persona slip.”
“True,” Hu Fu chimed in, his voice full of conviction. “With how you acted like a brute last night, I was scared just watching through the screen. No wonder your fan told you to ‘get out of the car.'”
Tan Mo paused, the pen tip pressing against the paper, then looked up at Hu Fu.
Hu Fu shrank his non-existent neck and turned to count the trophies on the wall, “One, two, three, five, seven…”
“Tan Mo,” Yu Haotian sounded worried. “Your voice seems to be getting worse. Is your cold getting more serious? You should go to the hospital.”
“Don’t worry,” Tan Mo said coolly, “I won’t die.”
“That’s not my concern,” Yu Haotian replied. “This weekend, you’re supposed to be commentating at the Blue Whale Invitational. If you don’t get your voice back in shape, and they drop you, what will we do? You think it’s easy to make money these days?”
“…”
Tan Mo, ever composed, resisted the urge to respond harshly.
Xiao Pai and Hu Fu covered their mouths, their shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
At that moment, the coach entered the room and glanced around. “Where’s Shine?”
Yu Haotian responded, “He’s dealing with some family issues. He asked for a few more days off.”
The coach frowned slightly, displeased, but sat down and addressed the group, “Our club is recruiting new members. The candidate has already been chosen. We’ll use the upcoming Blue Whale Invitational as a trial for them.”
“New member?”
It was the first time Xiao Pai and Hu Fu had heard of this, and they were surprised.
Tan Mo, who had known about this for a while, didn’t lift his head and continued making notes on the paper.
Hu Fu asked, “Who is it?”
“Elan.” When the coach mentioned this name, he smiled, “He has good ability. You can see it when you go to the scene.”
Xiao Pai said as a matter of course: “Are you recruiting new players for the second team? Or substitutes?”
There is no room for the first team.
The coach and Yu Haotian looked at each other with different expressions, and turned to Xiao Pai sternly: “Why do you care so much! Here, as long as you have the ability, the youth training can be the starting player. If you are confused all day long, report to the youth training camp!”
Xiao Pai covered his head and dared not say a word.
Next, Yu Haotian explained the work arrangements for the next month.
Basically, they were small games, with the second team playing, and the people in the first team focused on training to prepare for the summer game.
When the meeting was over, the coach was packing up and put a stack of paper in front of him.
On the paper was a printed PPT with game screenshots, text descriptions, and red pen annotations. Judging from the thickness, there were as many as sixty pages.
The coach looked up and looked at Tan Mo on the side: “What’s wrong?”
“Ability analysis report,” Tan Mo said calmly, his long eyelashes lowered. “If you think he’s suitable, please arrange a trial.”
The coach casually flipped through a few pages. The data was incredibly detailed—exactly what you’d expect from a Caltech graduate.
“Whose report is this?” the coach asked.
Tan Mo glanced over and said, “Someone I’ve got my eye on.”
…
On Sunday morning, Sang Ye held a VIP ticket to the Blue Whale Invitational in his hand, torn between throwing it in the drawer or keeping it out.
After the “sweet duo queue” incident, he had opened Steam that same evening, only to find a long-awaited friend request response in his inbox.
It read: [Sorry, momo1998 has declined your friend request.]
Although Talk could’ve just ignored the request, they chose to decline it, and to Sang Ye, the message was clear.
—Talk didn’t want to have any further interaction with him.
So, Sang Ye gave up on trying to add [iam31415926] as a friend. The words “I don’t really hate you” now had no place to be said.
Today was the day Talk was commentating, and after hesitating for half an hour, Sang Ye finally threw the ticket into the drawer.
He felt too ashamed to face Talk.
To make sure he didn’t change his mind, Sang Ye even locked the drawer, hid the key inside the second flower pot on the windowsill, and placed the pot on the corner of the air conditioning unit outside.
But less than a minute later, he couldn’t resist.
He opened the window, retrieved the flower pot, and dug the key out from the dirt.