“Am I worthy?” Ye Chi wasn’t angry and responded playfully, “To be your substitute.”

The game was in queue, and Mo Yin quietly ate a sandwich while staring at the screen, clearly not planning to pay Ye Chi any more attention.

Ye Chi entered the training room, and the door automatically swung back. He didn’t move forward but stood at the entrance, surveying DSG’s training room. Compared to REAL, DSG’s training room truly looked like a professional team’s space: two rows of top-notch computers, each player’s seat spaced apart, and at the end of the room, a giant electronic screen embedded in the wall. Below the screen was a table with a computer on it. The entire training room looked spotless and orderly.

Like Grandma Liu visiting the Grand View Garden, Ye Chi thought to himself with self-mockery.

Mo Yin’s spot was in the corner, probably because he wanted some peace and quiet, Ye Chi guessed.

After finishing his sandwich, Mo Yin threw the trash into the bin at his feet and got up to wash his hands at the sink by the door.

Ye Chi stood by and said, “It’s a day off today, not going out?”

Mo Yin turned on the tap and wiped his hands, giving Ye Chi a cold look.

Most people would feel pressured by such a cold stare from Mo Yin and retreat wisely if they were smart, while many, like Tang Qi, couldn’t handle the psychological pressure and ended up with mental issues.

Mo Yin, of course, didn’t care about these people. He was strong and indifferent, not inclined to empathize with ordinary people’s struggles.

But Ye Chi wasn’t deterred.

Sun Yuanyang said “idiot” and “weakling” didn’t count as a response, but Ye Chi thought they did.

With someone like Mo Yin, any response was already an attitude.

If not for this, Ye Chi wouldn’t have thick-skinnedly made this trip.

All of DSG’s members went out to have fun, leaving only Mo Yin behind. It was very likely, no, definitely that Mo Yin had no interest in such group activities. But the thought of Mo Yin staying alone in the base was unacceptable to Ye Chi. He could accompany him. Yes, he could go find him, hail a cab to get there. DSG’s base wasn’t in another building. Why not?

Mo Yin finished washing his hands and went back to queue for the game.

Ye Chi stood at the door for a while, then walked over. He stood behind Mo Yin, watching him queue.

There wasn’t much to see on the game queue screen. Ye Chi noticed Mo Yin’s friends list was empty, with zero friends.

In a 5v5 team game, to never get close to anyone and be this proud—Ye Chi hadn’t seen anyone like Mo Yin before.

Strangely, Ye Chi neither felt fear nor dislike. Such pride might be intolerable in others, but in Mo Yin, it seemed fitting and even evoked a bit of tenderness in Ye Chi.

During the break, Ye Chi thought a lot about why he felt flustered and at a loss in front of Mo Yin, why he felt particularly embarrassed and humiliated when he made a fool of himself in front of him, and why just seeing Mo Yin’s ID made his face flush and heart race. During that training match, he was very distracted, feeling a mix of panic and sweetness.

At that moment, Ye Chi was certain.

He was just slow, not a fool.

Or maybe he wasn’t even that slow, just couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe he would… fall for someone so unattainable.

In the morning, game queues always took a long time. Mo Yin sat with one leg up on the chair, lazily looking at his phone.

Ye Chi stood behind him like a security guard for a few minutes before suddenly saying, “Want to solo?”

Mo Yin lifted his head, leaning back slightly.

Ye Chi saw Mo Yin’s face upside down. His eyes were not so much cold as they were clean, reflecting Ye Chi’s somewhat nervous expression.

“Waiting in queue is boring,” Ye Chi said.

Mo Yin lowered his face and took a sip of water. “I don’t solo with Caibi.”

Ye Chi feared Mo Yin’s indifference most, but as long as he was willing to talk, it was manageable. He pulled up a chair next to him, a faint smile on his face. He wasn’t angry at all, in fact, he seemed a bit happy and asked, “What’s your standard for a noob? Is it anyone who loses to you?”

“Of course.”

Ye Chi said, “Then you’re the king of Caibi.”

Mo Yin’s gaze swept over him intensely.

Ye Chi, with full pressure resistance, didn’t flinch and kept smiling. “If everyone you beat is a noob, then you’re the king of Caibi, right?”

Mo Yin stared at Ye Chi for a full half minute before saying, “Log in.”

Ye Chi borrowed the computer usually used by the DSG coach, the one beneath the electronic screen. Mo Yin went straight over to boot it up. Ye Chi followed and said, “How about a bet?”

Mo Yin shot him another cold glance.

Ye Chi said, “If I win, will you add me as a friend?”

Mo Yin replied directly, “What if you lose?”

He asked seriously, in a low and deep voice, as if Ye Chi had already lost.

“You decide.”

The computer was already on, so Mo Yin stood up and moved aside, saying flatly, “Then you’ll change your game ID to ‘noob’.”

Due to the seating arrangement, Ye Chi sat behind the computer, taking in the entire training room, including Mo Yin in the corner. Mo Yin, with one foot on the chair, looked cool and distant, more like an artist than an esports player.

Ye Chi created a game room and called out from a distance, “How should I send you the link?”

Mo Yin didn’t respond. A few seconds later, Ye Chi received a friend request from Mo Yin.

Even though it was only a temporary friend request, Ye Chi was still excited and accepted it reverently. He made a separate list for Mo Yin, labeling it simply “MY.”

Mo Yin’s ID was officially assigned, a privilege, so his game ID and professional ID were the same. Many professional players had to choose different game IDs because their original ones were taken.

Ye Chi said, “Do you know how I got this game ID?”

Mo Yin seemed not to be listening, moving the mouse, likely selecting a hero.

Ye Chi continued, “It was originally ‘Playgame,’ but it was taken when I registered, so I deleted letters from the end, bit by bit, until it became ‘Playga.’ Chen Dong said it sounded like ‘playing awkwardly,’ too lame, so he added a letter. After I registered, I realized what it meant, and it became what it is now.”

Mo Yin looked as though he wasn’t listening, but after Ye Chi finished, the corners of Mo Yin’s mouth slightly curled up. If Ye Chi hadn’t had good eyesight, he might have missed it.

So Ye Chi also smiled. Moments later, he noticed a notification in the friend list. When he opened it, he saw:

—[MY: Illiterate]

Ye Chi chuckled softly.

The game loaded.

Both chose the same hero, the female magic assassin Mo Yin used to win his first championship, with the same champion skin.

During the regular season of the Spring Split, Ye Chi had teased his teammates about swapping autographs with Mo Yin. In reality, he dreamed that if he could win a championship one day and have his own champion skin and signature, using each other’s champion skins would be like exchanging signatures.

The fantasy was beautiful, almost dreamy, but reality was harsh.

They soloed in the mid lane, purely testing skills, ignoring minions, and started fighting at level one. Ye Chi took significant damage and had to retreat behind the tower.

The female assassin stood before the minion waves, her cold, stunning face seemingly mocking him.

With the advantage gained at level one, Mo Yin unsurprisingly won the solo match. As the game ended, Mo Yin turned to look at Ye Chi.

Ye Chi peeked out from behind the computer screen, “Bo3.”

Mo Yin: “Are you being unreasonable?”

Ye Chi: “Sorry, I didn’t clarify earlier.”

Mo Yin turned away and this time invited Ye Chi to the game room.

Being invited by “Friend MY” felt great, making Ye Chi feel the one-time unreasonable act was worth it.

For the second solo, they both chose the same hero again.

This time, Ye Chi played more cautiously from the start, carefully seeking opportunities. Mo Yin played aggressively and meticulously. If Ye Chi tried to hide, Mo Yin chased; if Ye Chi tried to farm, Mo Yin attacked, leaving him no chance. Despite Ye Chi’s efforts, he still lost.

As the screen went black, Ye Chi peeked out again.

Mo Yin had already turned around, arms crossed, glaring coldly at him.

Ye Chi said, “Hold on, I’ll buy a name change card.”

Mo Yin turned back, opened his friend list, hovered over the only friend there, ready to delete and block.

“Uh,” Ye Chi’s voice came through, “the ID ‘Caibi’ is already taken.”

Mo Yin turned his head again, his gaze not friendly.

“Wait a moment, I’ll make some adjustments,” Ye Chi said.

About ten seconds later, Ye Chi said, “Alright, refresh or check the chat window.”

Mo Yin opened the friend chat window.

Ye Chi’s new ID appeared: “LostToMYCaibi.”

—[MY: Are you crazy?]

—[LostToMYCaibi: ?]

—[LostToMYCaibi: Isn’t it true? Just stating the facts.]

—[MY: Change it, don’t associate me.]

—[LostToMYCaibi: Then we need to solo again.]

Mo Yin looked at Ye Chi.

“No matter how many times we solo, you’ll still lose.”

Mo Yin’s cold and low voice came through. Ye Chi peeked out from behind the screen, “Let’s try again.”

“If you enjoy being beaten, I don’t mind.”

“Just don’t complain if you lose.”

In the chat window, Ye Chi sent a link.

Mo Yin: “What is this?”

Ye Chi: “Solo link.”

Nonsense, they were in the game; why not just start another match? Mo Yin wondered what new trick Ye Chi was pulling as he clicked the link, which immediately redirected to a web page, with cheerful music playing through his headset.

“Room 133,” Ye Chi said.

“What is this?”

“Puzzle Bobble duel.”

“…”

Mo Yin turned his head.

Ye Chi leaned over, “Didn’t specify which game to solo, right? Do you know how to play? If not, we can switch to a game you know.”

“There is no game I don’t know how to play.”

Kidding, his gaming talent was maxed out. Did Ye Chi think he could win in a simple children’s game?

Mo Yin logged into his Q account and entered the room.

Inside, two characters stood side by side.

One character wore a white tank top and blue shorts, completely plain.

The other was dressed in multicolored armor, with six pairs of wings, glittering golden feathers, and a silly-looking small dragon at his feet, equally over-the-top. The character’s ID was flanked by a row of diamonds and VIP marks.

Mo Yin: “…”

As it turned out, no matter how skilled, a non-paying player couldn’t beat a heavily invested one.

“Bo3?” Ye Chi asked.

Mo Yin turned to Ye Chi, “Wait.”

Ye Chi’s ID was from his time as an internet café manager. He sold game cards on the side. When game companies cracked down on card sales, he had no choice but to load all the cards onto his account, which became a well-known super account in niche gaming circles. Later, as Ye Chi went pro, his history, including various game accounts, was dug up.

This game allowed strangers to spectate. In the room, two heavily invested players dueling drew increasing attention in the chat box at the bottom right.

—[Whoa, who spends this much on an old game? Rich guy, can I be your fan?]

—[Is this a pro player? The pride of our village. Who’s the other one?]

—[MY, that ID sounds familiar. Is he a pro too?]

—[I just searched, he is. A world champion, very impressive.]

—[Pro player, you’ve made it! Bringing a world champion to play Puzzle Bobble, I’m crying.]

The gaming forum buzzed. When Mo Yin, unfamiliar with the items, was sneak-attacked and lost the solo, the news quickly spread.

The entire forum exploded.

—[So bold, playing Puzzle Bobble. Sorry, I need to check if aliens have landed.]

—[No doubt, this must be Madman’s doing. When did they become so close?]

—[I can’t accept this…]

—[I can’t accept this +1]

—[I can’t accept this +2]

…

—[I can’t accept this +10086. Feels like my precious cabbage being trampled by a pig, I can’t take it.]

—[No, isn’t it more like a rotten cabbage trampled by a pig?]

—[Nonsense, how could MY be a pig? Madman seems more like one.]

—[You didn’t get my point…]

While the forum went wild, another explosive piece of news came in.

Playgay changed his name to LostToMYCaibi and added MY as a friend.

The forum users and fans were in complete upheaval, especially Mo Yin’s fans. On social media, they were shouting at Playgay not to touch their MY and hoping Playgay would get into trouble. The comments under Ye Chi’s Weibo skyrocketed from a few hundred to over ten thousand in an instant.

In the midst of this storm, the two involved were either oblivious or simply didn’t care.

Ye Chi, having used “underhanded” tactics, successfully avoided being deleted from Mo Yin’s friend list. Looking at the solitary “MY” in his friend list, he couldn’t help but ask.

—[LostToMYCaibi: Can we consider ourselves friends now?]

Ye Chi saw from outside the computer screen that Mo Yin was typing, his fingers flying across the keyboard with incredible speed.

He was replying to him.

Replying to the only friend in his friend list.

A wave of indescribable sweetness surged in Ye Chi’s chest. Perhaps this was what it felt like to like someone.

The chat box soon popped up with a reply.

—[MY: I don’t make friends with idiots]