📢NOT MINE

📽ALL CREDITS TO AUTHOR AND TRANSLATORS

❌️PLEASE DO NOT REPORT

✅️IF YOU WANT THE BOOK TO BE TAKEN DOWN, PLEASE MESSAGE IN THE COMMENTS, I WILL TAKE IT DOWN IMMEDIATELY.

Sang Ye entered the entertainment industry with his stunning looks, known for his cold and aloof personality. However, during an e-sports match, he shouted at his idol: “Face me head-on!”

His tough facade shattered instantly, and he became widely recognized as a wife fan

Sang Ye stubbornly denied it.

Then, during a live stream, he unexpectedly encountered his idol in a game.

Using an 8x scope, he gazed at the man’s back from a distance and moved his gun away.

The next second, his teammate shot the idol with a perfect headshot.

Sang Ye was momentarily stunned, then burst into tears.

The livestream audience went wild: [“He’s so adorable!”]

Tan Mo, the idol, logged into his account and immediately avenged himself with a headshot.

Unexpectedly, the cold and domineering wife fan suddenly choked up and cried out in protest:

“I’m not playing with you anymore!”

“……”

Looking at the screen, at the teary-eyed, extremely aggrieved little beauty, Tan Mo narrowed his eyes slightly.

He felt an irresistible urge to tease him.

It wasn’t until Sang Ye joined the team that he learned Tan Mo suffered from PTSD, which rendered him unable to compete when his episodes struck.

One time, by accident, Sang Ye discovered Tan Mo trembling in a corner.

He approached.

Tan Mo hugged him, his voice so hoarse it could barely be heard: “Help me…”

Later, before a major competition, Sang Ye was pressed against a wall, hidden from the spotlight, as their heated kiss ended amidst the noise of the crowd.

Tan Mo’s long eyelashes fluttered: “Song, I’m scared…”

Sang Ye grasped the back of the man’s neck, pulling him closer. His gaze was clear and unwavering:

“I will always protect you.”

I’ll be your armor, your one and only safe haven.

Tags: Son of Heaven, E-Sports, Sweet Romance, Counterattack

Search Keywords: Protagonists: Sang Ye, Tan Mo┃ Supporting Roles: ┃ Others: PUBG

One-liner Summary: Super sweet! Cold and Doting Husband with a Sickly Beauty (seme) vs. Fiercely Cute and Spoiled Little Sunshine (uke)

At the end of March, the final day of the PUBG Spring Championship’s weekly finals had arrived.

It was past five o’clock when a sleek Mercedes-Benz slowly came to a stop in front of the e-sports arena at the Broadcasting and Production Center.

A group of staff members rushed forward, spreading their arms as if to offer an escort.

Through the tinted windows, everyone was curious about who could be inside. After all, all the competing teams had already entered an hour earlier.

The car door opened, and a young man, carrying a backpack slung over one shoulder, stepped out, unfolding his long legs as he exited the car.

Nearby fans were the first to erupt in screams, their excitement spreading outward, causing the entire crowd to buzz with excitement.

Those standing further back had their view blocked by the raised support signs, unable to see what was happening.

One guy, perplexed by the fuss, asked, “Who is it that’s making such a flashy entrance? Not even Tan Shen¹ would get this much hype.”

A girl ahead of him excitedly turned around, “It is Tan Shen! Tan Shen’s here!!!”

The guy, who had been unimpressed just moments ago, immediately changed his tune and roared, “Talk²! Tan Shen! Aaaaah— Tan Shen! I love you! Aaaah—!!!”

The man, surrounded by the crowd, kept his head down as he was escorted by staff through Gate 1 of the venue. As he walked through the corridor, the setting sun cast a streak of orange-pink across his prominent nose, but it did nothing to soften his skin, which was cold to the point of being almost pale.

At the VIP entrance on the other side of the plaza, a young man with creamy white hair paused, looking back at the crowd shouting “Talk!” in unison.

It wasn’t until the ticket inspector gently reminded him that the young man snapped out of it, took the ticket with the stub torn off, and walked towards the green passage leading directly into the venue.

WLG’s team sniper, Xiao Pai, was stuffing himself with a burger, but even from the lounge, he could hear the uproar outside. He looked up and asked, “Did Tan Mo arrive?”

The coach didn’t even have to think about it: “Can you find another man in the entire esports scene who can make an entrance and create a celebrity vibe like that?”

Xiao Pai relaxed and said, “With Dad Talk here, I could play this game blindfolded.”

The next second, the coach pried Xiao Pai’s eyes open forcefully. “Close your eyes, my foot! Keep those eyes wide open and play properly! Look at what a mess your results are when Tan Mo’s not around! Out of the twenty-four participating teams, where are we now? First place! From the bottom!”

“Ah! Ouch, ouch, that hurts!!!”

As the team manager walked in, he heard Xiao Pai’s agonized wail and snapped, “Shush! Stop yelling!”

Right behind him, Tan Mo entered the room.

Everyone looked over. The dashing man placed his backpack on a table by the wall, shrugged off his windbreaker with one hand, and pulled out his team jacket from the bag with the other, putting it on.

Apart from the ever-present pallor of fatigue, he seemed perfectly fine.

“A-Mo… maybe you should let the substitute play this time?”

The coach watched him closely for a while before hesitantly suggesting.

Tan Mo zipped up his jacket, his eyelids drooping slightly, and responded with just two words:

“Trust me.”

Sang Ye entered the venue a bit late and didn’t notice that several young women were peeking at him as he passed by.

He compared the seat number on his ticket and saw that someone was sitting in his seat, which was right in the center of the second row. A guy had his arm draped over the shoulder of a girl next to him, looking around at the passing audience.

As Sang Ye walked toward the middle, he gradually caught part of their conversation.

The girl said, “Come on, go sit in your own seat. Who’s going to give up their middle seat for you?”

The guy replied, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. My seat is just two over, switching won’t affect anyone’s view. Plus, if that person knows we’re a couple and still won’t switch, they’re just trying to split us up. That’d be so rude, right?”

Sang Ye noticed that seat number 16 was directly under the central air vent and stopped walking.

The guy was sitting in seat 15 and glanced to the side.

There, he saw a young man with striking³ white hair, so handsome it was almost refreshing. The young man checked his ticket, then looked up at the vent, frowning slightly.

It seemed like he didn’t like the idea of sitting directly under the air conditioning.

Sure enough, the young man spoke: “Excuse me, would you mind switching seats?”

Without hesitation, the guy waved his hand dismissively: “Not convenient, sorry!”

He had been eyeing that seat for a while.

The young man glanced at his ticket again and looked down at him: “Sorry, but you’re sitting in my seat.”

“…”

The guy was speechless.

After a long pause, he pointed at the girl beside him: “I… she… we’re a couple, and—”

But under the young man’s calm gaze, he couldn’t manage to finish his sentence.

With a heavy sigh of frustration, the guy grudgingly got up and left.

Sang Ye took off his backpack and sat down heavily.

Claiming the moral high ground? Moral blackmail? Get out of here.

He’d fought for this seat at 2 a.m. when the tickets went on sale, so why should he give it up to a couple?

As everyone settled in, the large screen on the stage began playing the promotional video for the Spring Tournament.

The audience gradually quieted down.

The girl sitting in seat 16 next to Sang Ye was fanning herself with one hand while spraying hydrating mist onto her face with the other. “I finally managed to snag a seat, and it’s right under the air conditioner! My makeup’s about to crack!”

She’d put a lot of effort into her makeup before leaving the house, but no matter how waterproof it was, even the best products couldn’t withstand that much mist. Her eye makeup was already starting to smudge like panda eyes.

Understanding that girls like to look their best when they go out, especially to take selfies for social media, Sang Ye put away his iPad and tilted his head toward her: “Let’s switch seats.”

The girl was stunned for a moment, feeling touched. She pointed at the air vent above her: “But what about you?”

Sang Ye was already bent over, getting up: “It’s fine. I’ve got thick skin.”

“…”

The young man’s face was so pale and delicate it seemed like you could pinch water out of it. He couldn’t have been further from the phrase “thick-skinned.”

The girl, overwhelmed with gratitude, thanked him repeatedly.

Sang Ye moved to a new seat, and the guy from the couple he had previously encountered was now seated to his left.

Feeling a bit put out for having been outmaneuvered by the young man, the guy asked, “High school student, huh? Don’t you have school tomorrow morning?”

Sang Ye didn’t even look up as he opened his tablet: “Can’t afford high school.”

The guy was taken aback and then burst out laughing, “Don’t play dumb. You bought a VIP seat for 2,600 Yuan, and you’re telling me you can’t afford high school?”

Sang Ye replied, “Not enough credits, can’t afford it.”

“…”

The conversation was not going anywhere.

The air conditioning in the venue was intense, and after a while, Sang Ye found it uncomfortable and took off his heavy jacket.

At that moment, the lights dimmed, and a beam of light focused on the center of the stage. The passionate voice of the commentator echoed through the large venue:

“Dear audience, welcome to the second match day of the fourth week of the PCL Spring Tournament!”

The competing teams walked onto the stage from the side and headed straight for the competition area, greeted by enthusiastic applause and cheers.

The camera crane moved widely, capturing the scene, which was broadcast live on the massive LED screens throughout the venue. The audience, excited and lively, was adorned with flashing support banners that rose and fell in waves.

The camera panned around, then focused on the lucky audience members.

Seeing their faces on the giant screen in the center of the stage, some people shyly ducked, some waved enthusiastically, and others, bold as ever, blew kisses to the camera.

Taking advantage of this, the commentators engaged the audience with lively banter, while allowing each team sufficient time for pre-match preparations.

WLG’s team manager stood at the side of the stage, watching Tan Mo put on his headset, struggling to resist the urge to pull him off the stage.

“He had another dream last night,” the manager said.

A voice suddenly cut in beside him.

Turning to look, he saw the team doctor.

The manager hesitated, “Still dreaming about… the same forest?”

“It’s been a month straight,” the team doctor warned, “In his current state, he shouldn’t even be here.”

The manager frowned in frustration, “I’ve tried to persuade him. He won’t listen.”

After watching the stage for a moment, the team doctor pulled something from his pocket and discreetly handed it to the manager, keeping his gaze steady: “Watch his condition. If it gets really bad… this might help.”

Confused, the manager opened his hand to look.

He was handed a bottle of medicine with the label torn off. The white plastic gleamed under the lights, revealing a shadowy color.

…

The director of broadcasting scanned several rows of the audience and seemed to suddenly notice something. The camera crane swung back around and zoomed in on the second row, closer to the stage.

The atmosphere in the venue shifted.

The selected young man had striking creamy white-colored hair, his head lowered, wearing only a clean short-sleeve T-shirt that revealed his delicate, white collarbone.

Just his silhouette alone was enough to set the mood.

The guy next to him, excited, nudged his neighbor: “Hey! Hey! You’re on the screen!”

Sang Ye instinctively looked up—

A world-weary, unconventional beauty’s face dominated the giant screen.

The audience erupted into high-pitched screams.

Female commentator: “This young man is so handsome, even this old aunt feels like her heart has been pierced.”

Male commentator: “He really is good-looking… I just remembered, he seems to be a signed streamer on the Maoya platform.”

Female commentator: “Hmm? Is there something we don’t know?”

The guy next to Sang Ye was stunned, his worldview collapsing as he looked at Sang Ye.

This kid, who looked under eighteen, was actually a streamer?!

Male commentator: “His ID is [Song], and he’s from Shanghai. Last month, Maoya’s gaming section held a beauty contest with separate voting for male and female streamers. Somehow, a mischievous fan submitted Song’s livestream screenshot into the female streamer candidate pool. As a result, his votes skyrocketed, and he won first place, while the winner of the male streamer category was naturally [Talk]. The even funnier part is that their photos were displayed side by side on the homepage banner. By the time the staff realized the gender mix-up and urgently took down the promotion, a full day had passed.”

The audience burst into laughter.

Sang Ye, however, was unfazed. He held a stylus in one hand, scribbling on his tablet, his expression aloof and indifferent.

In reality, the commentators didn’t mention everything. Besides the initial reviewers having poor eyesight, Sang Ye’s success among female streamers was also closely tied to every rebellious netizen.

Sang Ye’s livestream photo was indeed poorly taken but still looked good. However, viewers weren’t blind; they recognized he was a male. Yet, knowing he was a male seemed to excite them even more. They voted enthusiastically, propelling Sang Ye from mid-tier rankings to the title of “Most Beautiful Goddess.”

So this voting was purely a prank, with no intention of disparaging female streamers, and everyone had a good laugh at the result.

“I wonder if Talk still remembers this young man who was featured alongside him on the homepage banner? Is Talk watching right now?”

The female commentator suddenly wanted to involve Talk, and Sang Ye’s breath caught. He quickly looked up at the front.

Everyone noticed oddly that the cool guy who had seemed so aloof just moments ago now had his clear eyes trembling, and his pale skin flushed with color.

Xiao Pai glanced at the LED screen and whistled: “Indeed, as expected of a face-value tyrant⁴, Tan Shen, don’t you even take a look?”

Just then, the director switched the camera to the player area.

Talk appeared on the screen, and upon being called out, he lifted his eyes to look forward.

The director then cleverly switched back to the audience.

The intention was to show Talk the young man.

However, the young man had already raised his tablet to cover his face the instant Talk looked up.

So when Talk glanced at the screen, all he saw was a tablet.

Talk’s expression changed subtly before he quickly looked away and continued adjusting game parameters.

Sang Ye, noticing the sudden wave of screams, realized something was off and looked closely.

Oh no!

He had held the tablet the wrong way!

The support message he had been scribbling on the tablet, which he hadn’t had time to finish, was now exposed to everyone:

[WLG Never Gives Up, Talk Face-to-Face with Thousands⁵]

The male commentator pondered and boldly guessed, “So that character is—me?”

“!!!” Sang Ye froze in his seat.

He meant to write “Talk Face-to-Face with the Enemy.”

The Enemy!

Enemy!!!

Me…

“Can say such bold and wild words…” the female commentator subtly added, “Could he be – Talk’s wife fan⁶?”

Sang Ye: “…………”

Author’s Note:

Tan Mo: Be confident, just drop the ‘fan‘ part.

Note :

1.“Tan Shen” (谈神) is a nickname that combines the surname “Tan” (谈) with the Chinese word “Shen” (神), which means “God.” In this context, “Tan Shen” likely refers to a character who is highly skilled or revered, particularly in esports or gaming, where “Shen” is used to express admiration or respect, as in “God-level” talent. ↩︎

“Talk” is Tan Shen’s in-game name ↩︎

“Striking” means impressive, noticeable, or attracting attention. ↩︎

face-value tyrant (a slang term for someone who is extremely good-looking) ↩︎

Talk Face-to-Face with Thousands: Talk should confront or face challenges directly, implying courage and confidence in dealing with a large number of opponents or challenges. ↩︎

6.“Wife fan” is a slang term used to describe a fan who is extremely devoted to a male celebrity, often to the point of obsession. It’s a more playful and exaggerated way to say “super fan” or “die-hard fan.” ↩︎

Laughter and whistles surrounded him as Sang Ye quickly closed his tablet, sitting beneath the warm air vent, his whole body burning up. He grabbed a bottle of water from the floor and gulped down two mouthfuls to cool down.

The broadcast director knew when to stop, and the leaderboard flashed on the big screen.

When Sang Ye saw WLG’s team logo at the bottom of the rankings, his hand paused mid-twist of the bottle cap.

According to the rules, the bottom three teams tonight would face relegation and lose their spot in the top-tier league.

WLG had too few points—elimination was inevitable.

If they could pull off five wins out of six matches tonight, they might still have a chance to avoid relegation, but that was highly unlikely.

Sang Ye reopened his tablet, erased the second half of his message, and held it up again.

[WLG NEVER GIVES UP]

There were still many WLG fans in the audience. Their spirits were already calm, quietly waving their support signs. They didn’t want to disturb their favorite team or hope to be noticed.

The players entered the preparation phase, and the game began its countdown. Just then, the camera zoomed in on WLG’s player zone.

On the big screen, team captain Talk lowered his gaze and raised one hand high, pointing upwards.

Sang Ye froze for a second, then felt his heart race, his ears filled with the rushing sound of blood.

In the 2020 Summer Tournament, when WLG was on the verge of missing the top 16, Talk made this gesture.

In the 2021 Asia Invitational, WLG was relentlessly targeted by the Korean team, seemingly doomed not to advance, and Talk made this gesture.

In the same year, during the World Championship, WLG was only halfway through the tournament, sitting at sixth place, while the spotlight was already on two North American teams for the title. Talk made this gesture.

He had said, “A true warrior never dies; the final outcome is yet to be determined.”

Anyone who had ever supported WLG knew exactly what this gesture meant.

Many, seeing this scene, were moved to tears, unable to suppress the surge of emotion, shouting out their excitement from deep within.

This godlike man had noticed them!

And once he made a promise, he always delivered!

In the few seconds before the match began, Talk gave both his teammates and the audience a strong dose of confidence, and the subsequent matches proved that he never let anyone down.

WLG performed steadily in the first two rounds, finishing 5th and 3rd, respectively. Starting from the third round, they secured two consecutive victories.

The long-awaited triumph sent the fans into a frenzy. For the past month, WLG had been relentlessly beaten down, and all the frustration they endured was finally swept away.

Sure enough, Talk’s return meant their backbone was back!

At that moment, the broadcast director switched the camera to the player seats.

As soon as the game ended, Talk yanked off his headphones and left his seat without a backward glance.

The big screen barely managed to capture a glimpse of him as he rushed past. His face was pale as paper, his jawline sharp and dripping with sweat, as if he had just been pulled out of the water.

Sang Ye, sitting in the front row and close to the stage, shifted his gaze from the screen to the side of the stage, watching that tall figure push open the door and disappear into the backstage area.

The double doors swung back and forth from the force, and the breeze seemed to reach him, calming him down a bit.

From the first round to now, nearly two hours had passed.

After the fourth round, the event organizers extended the intermission to 20 minutes to give the players a chance to recover.

Inside WLG’s locker room.

The team manager found an excuse to send everyone else to the public lounge and leaned against the wall outside the adjoining washroom, biting his nails with a frown.

After waiting for a quarter of an hour, the door finally opened from the inside.

Talk emerged, his eyelids drooping, his face showing signs of having been washed.

Seeing the manager waiting outside, he asked, “What’s up?”

The manager looked conflicted, hesitating for a while before gritting his teeth and pulling out a rattling bottle of pills from his pocket, handing it over.

Talk glanced at the pill bottle.

When he looked back at the manager, his tone had changed, “Are you serious?”

…

There were two matches left in the day’s competition. The players returned to the arena, and the camera panned between the different teams.

When it landed on Talk, he was seen turning to speak with a teammate, and his face showed no signs of anything unusual.

Sang Ye rubbed his eyelids with his palm, adjusted his posture into a more relaxed one, and continued watching the match.

Perhaps knowing that there weren’t many opportunities left, WLG played much more aggressively in the next two rounds.

In the fifth round, although they didn’t win, they secured the same points as the winning team due to their high kill count and dominance on the desert map.

In the final round, WLG’s plan fell apart, leaving only Talk to make it to the final circle, where he encountered three players from NSN.

Male commentator: “What a shame. Talk is a lone wolf, and NSN can easily suppress him with just their firepower.”

Female commentator: “Exactly. If Talk wins this round, WLG could avoid relegation. But now… well, we can only say they gave it their best.”

The final circle was set in a wheat field, and NSN spread out in three directions, closing in on the house area. They didn’t even bother tossing grenades to clear it, clearly underestimating the lone player.

However, their captain, Kay, remained cautious. As he approached a haystack, he quickly took cover behind it and called to his teammates on both sides, “Go, go, go, I’ll cover!”

Kay positioned his gun around the haystack, using a scope to search for Talk’s location, leaning slightly to the side.

But before his vision fully adjusted to the 8x scope, a burst from an M24 hit his level-3 helmet. As his health bar plummeted, another shot followed.

Headshot kill.

“D*mn it!” Kay slammed his fist against the mechanical keyboard.

The crowd erupted in gasps of disbelief.

In the final circle, under immense pressure, Talk still dared to use a sniper? That’s not something a mere human can do—he’s a god!

After firing the shot that sniped Kay, Talk’s position was exposed. He quickly threw a smoke grenade to conceal his movement.

The remaining two enemies launched a fierce attack—one crazily tossing grenades, while the other sprayed bullets into the smoke. Calmly, Talk switched to his M416, pressed against the back of a car, and counted down.

As the smoke cleared, Talk emerged from an unexpected position and hip-fired at the enemy on the left, instantly taking him down.

The second enemy arrived just in time, thinking he could launch a sneak attack from behind, but ended up face-to-face with Talk. Both sides opened fire, but the enemy couldn’t match the reaction speed of the gun god. Talk survived with a sliver of health, while the enemy fell.

Game over.

[Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!]

The male commentator’s voice cracked with excitement: “That was a frame-perfect shot! A 1v3 in the most extreme conditions! This has to be the best highlight of the Spring Tournament!”

The female commentator clapped her hands: “Let’s congratulate Talk! And congratulate WLG for winning the final round!”

WLG shot up two places on the leaderboard, securing their spot and avoiding relegation!

Not just the fans, but even the audience in the other teams’ section stood up and applauded.

The boy sitting next to Sang Ye rubbed his arms and let out a “Phew” sound: “Talk is terrifying—he’s shown me something unreal.” He turned and asked, “Aren’t you a streamer? What do you think of that play?”

Sang Ye rested his chin on one hand, his eyes drifting toward Tan Mo on the big screen, still trying to maintain a cool and aloof appearance:

“Don’t mess with a lone wolf.”

Just then, the light swept over him, revealing his ears, sticking out from his creamy-white hair, flushed bright red.

…

WLG ended their Spring Tournament journey with an impressive 103 points, ranking first for the day. Not only did they deliver several memorable moments, but their player Talk was also named MVP of the event.

However, these achievements couldn’t change the fact that WLG failed to reach the top 16 and had been eliminated.

The players packed their things, slung their bags over their shoulders, and left the locker room with their heads hanging low.

Tan Mo, at the back of the group, was called out by the team manager: “A-Mo, can you stay for a moment?”

Tan Mo half-closed the door and leaned against the wall. “What’s up?”

The manager rubbed his knees, took a deep breath, and stood up. “I’ve discussed it with the coach. When we return, we’ll be bringing in a new assaulter for the team.”

Tan Mo looked at him without speaking.

In the silence, the manager seemed to struggle for breath, about to offer further explanation—

“What?” Tan Mo said calmly. “Planning to replace me?”

The team traveled back and forth by chartered bus.

A boy ran onto the bus a little late, slightly out of breath—it was Shine, the team’s second assaulter.

Knowing everyone had been waiting for him, Shine apologized repeatedly as he walked toward the back.

The coach glanced at him through the seats and suddenly asked, “Did you run into NSN’s manager after using the restroom?”

Shine froze mid-step, seemingly swallowing hard, though his expression was hard to read in the dim bus lighting.

“Yeah… we happened to meet, so we walked back together.”

The manager looked at Shine’s back and asked the coach, “What’s up?”

The coach waved his hand, his expression sour. “Nothing.”

…

Late into the night, almost at midnight, a live stream titled [Waiting at the Airport, Quick Stream] unexpectedly made it to the homepage of the “Chicken Dinner Every Day” section on the Maoya platform. The stream’s aesthetic was somewhat out of place.

Sang Ye entered the lobby, casually grabbed a box of Häagen-Dazs from the freezer, and found a seat near some potted plants.

The surroundings were peaceful, and the dim amber lighting overhead was easy on the eyes, almost making him feel drowsy.

He placed his phone on the table and, seeing the viewer count already at 80,000, raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you people sleep?”

[“You’re finally online, Fu Gui¹~”]

[“Missing in action, but you’re back!]”

[“Aren’t you the one who hasn’t slept? You ghosted us for a week, why stream all of a sudden?”]

Sang Ye rubbed his eyes, his voice, with the clarity of a young man, relaxed. “I haven’t worked in a week, so I figured I’d catch up on some stream hours while I have time.”

[“Such a good boy, our Fu Gui~”]

[“Saw you up close in HD during the official live stream tonight. Turns out, you don’t even use beauty filters when you stream.”]

[“It’s the bad stream quality that hid your looks all this time. What kind of diet gives you a face this perfect? TAT”]

Sang Ye glanced at the compliments about his looks, forgetting them immediately. He grabbed the ice cream, planning to eat something cold to wake himself up.

[“Do you think I’ve never been in an airport? Waiting areas don’t look like that. Are you in a buffet restaurant? Streamers these days, every one of you has to show off.”]

“It is an airport.” Sang Ye flipped his camera around, pointing it at the entrance sign. “This place just happens to have a buffet.”

A sign with the illuminated words “VIP LOUNGE” hung above the doorframe.

The live chat instantly turned golden.

[“Fortune brought us together.”]

[“No surprise, you’re a walking VIP.”]

[“For those who think it’s a flex, maybe your airport lounge is a little different from Fu Gui’s.”]

Sang Ye casually opened his ice cream and absentmindedly watched the chat.

[“Have you been watching the tournament live all week?”]

[“Confessing to Talk in front of two billion online and offline viewers, telling him to face off head-on—you’re quite brave.”]

[“Alright, now the whole world knows you’re Talk’s wife fan.”]

[“Officially stamped as the wife fan.”]

Seeing the conversation veering off track, Sang Ye’s hand twitched, nearly sending the plastic spoon flying: “What I was trying to write was…”

But the audience clearly had no interest in his explanation. Within seconds, the screen was flooded with messages repeating [“Talk’s wife fan”].

Blood rushed to Sang Ye’s face as he picked up his phone, intending to end the stream: “Then I’m leaving.”

[“Don’t leave, Fu Gui!”]

[“Just teasing!”]

[“It’s just a joke, I’m the real wife fan of Talk! It’s me!”]

…

The fans flattered and coaxed Sang Ye for a while before he finally put his phone down again.

Sang Ye put on a sulky expression, saving his energy for explanations.

After all, this issue was as hard to clear up as jumping into the Yellow River.

After a while, the number of viewers in the stream increased, and inevitably, some trolls joined in.

[“Went to the live event just to see WLG get eliminated? Do all WLG fans have a masochistic streak?”]

[“WLG is definitely match-fixing. Don’t ask why, just ask how they can’t even make the top sixteen—it’s suspicious!”]

[“After this battle, WLG is completely finished.”]

There were plenty of similar chaotic comments.

Sang Ye found them annoying and couldn’t be bothered to respond to each one or mute the offenders.

Since WLG’s victory tonight deserved to be celebrated, he took out another phone, opened Taobao’s WLG store, and announced:

“Now, if each person praises ‘my husband’ in the chat, we’ll draw for official co-branded keyboards and gaming chairs—let’s give away… a hundred sets.”

“‘My husband’ refers to WLG, the nickname fans gave the team based on the abbreviation W-L-G. Each set of keyboard and gaming chair costs three thousand, so a hundred sets…”

The audience was stunned. After a few seconds, a flood of comments summed up in one sentence:

[“I didn’t want to, but he’s giving away so much.”]

…

Sang Ye held the spoon with ice cream in his mouth, feeling the cold, velvety milk flavor melt on his tongue.

At that moment, the comments in the stream were filled with praise. Although bought with money and not without its false elements, the joy he felt was real.

Amidst the barrage of [“WLG is amazing!”] and [“My husband is amazing!”], Sang Ye wasn’t entirely lost.

He replied to a few messages and looked back at the stream, only to find a few discordant comments mixed in.

[“Talk is on drugs during the match.”]

[“Talk is on drugs!”]

Sang Ye ground his teeth, unable to tolerate the rumors, and prepared to report each comment: “You…”

Before he could even utter the curse, a flood of related comments appeared.

[“Talk’s drug use is trending! Everyone go check it out!!!”]

Sang Ye blinked, paused for a moment, and picked up another phone to open Weibo.

At the top of the trending list, he saw—

#Talk Spring Tournament Drug Use#

Note :

“富贵” (Fù Guì) in Chinese translates to “wealth” and “honor” or “prosperity. ↩︎