Yi Yi: “This golden rain falls for you; you deserve it. @0G-Roy/[tears][heart].”

In the Weibo nine-grid post, three pictures showed OG winning the MSI championship overseas, with fans shedding tears on-site; three were selfies with OG players and the official host; and the remaining three were stunning photos of her taken by others, draped in the OG team flag from the audience.

Xu Yitong nibbled on an apple while screenshotting this Weibo post and sending it to her best friends’ group chat.

The group was buzzing with discussions about Flechzao’s summer collection, and Xu Yitong’s screenshot was quickly buried. 

So she sent it again, adding the text: [“Attention, please! Does anyone have this person’s contact info?”]

Moli was the first to respond: [“A gamer’s girlfriend? From OG? Huh, Tongtong, are you still chasing that certain someone?”]

As soon as this message appeared, the group fell eerily quiet for a moment.

Moli quickly followed up with another: [“Actually, that’s a great idea. I’ll help you find her!”]

But someone tactless couldn’t resist sending a voice message: [“After all this time, I think it’s hopeless. You still want to break into the ‘gamer girlfriends’ circle? Tong, just give up and go to sleep.”]

“Ugh!”

Xu Yitong threw her apple aside and collapsed onto the bed in frustration.

…

…

Not long ago, Xu Yitong had fallen in love at first sight with a man.

Or, to be more precise, she had developed a crush on a professional esports player from the LPL.

LPL, officially known as the League of Legends Pro League, represents the highest-tier professional League of Legends league in mainland China.

It was only later that she found out he was a very, very famous active player in this circle.

This was a realm Xu Yitong had never ventured into before. 

So she couldn’t grasp just how skilled he was at the game or how renowned he was in the esports world.

But she clearly remembered two things:

1. This man loved eating cookies.  

2. He hated mint.

*

Moli was highly efficient. Within two days, she successfully arranged a meetup with Yi Yi, and the group organized an afternoon tea gathering.

A three-tiered British-style silver tray stand in red and black hues was laden with intricately designed pastries and snacks. 

Xu Yitong had no appetite, sipping on coffee instead.

In gatherings with people who weren’t yet close, conversations usually started with bags and jewelry. 

This was Xu Yitong’s comfort zone. 

She had never been shy around strangers, chatting effortlessly while maintaining eye contact, as if everything the other person said was genuinely interesting.

When Flechzao came up, Yi Yi complained, “The ‘First Rain’ series bracelet from Yijian is so hard to get. I asked a few salespeople, and they all said it’s out of stock.”

Xu Yitong smiled at her. 

“You like it too? I know a pretty reliable personal shopper. I’ll share their contact with you later.”

“Great!”

Within half an hour, the two had exchanged WeChat, and Yi Yi was already affectionately calling Xu Yitong “Tongtong.”

After discussing bags and jewelry, the pastries on the table remained largely untouched, and the gathering moved on to the photo-taking segment. 

Xu Yitong fiddled with her phone. 

“Sorry, I need to reply to a message first.”

Yi Yi glanced at her and nodded. “No problem, go ahead.”

What a dazzling young lady she was. 

The oversized hoop earrings studded with tiny diamonds were almost ostentatious, shimmering and swaying beside her cheeks—yet even such eye-catching accessories couldn’t overshadow her beauty.

Had anyone ever told her she resembled Japanese actress Ayase Haruka? 

Her snow-white skin peeked out from under a deep purple satin camisole dress, her jet-black hair stunning, her lip gloss sweet, and her eyes—whether she smiled or not—always sparkling with a pure, effortless charm.

The kind of person who seemed like she’d never have a worry in her life.

A faint click sounded, and Xu Yitong looked up in confusion.

“That angle was perfect—I couldn’t resist taking a photo of you. I’ll send it to you later,” Yi Yi said, handing her phone to Xu Yitong. 

“What do you think of these pictures I just took?”

Xu Yitong glanced at them and praised, “Oh, they’re lovely.”  

As she handed the phone back, she asked, “Are you planning to post them on Moments or Weibo?”  

“Both,” Yi Yi replied with a smile.

Moli, catching Xu Yitong’s meaningful look, quickly steered the conversation: 

“I saw your Weibo the other day. You and your boyfriend seem really close. How long have you been together?”  

“About two or three years.”  

“How did you meet?”  

“Through a friend.”  

“Dating an esports player must be tough, right?”  

“It’s really not easy,” Yi Yi admitted, laughing. 

“Every time he loses a match, I get dragged into it too. I’m used to it by now.”

This resonated with the other two, whose boyfriends were also esports players. 

The group chatted for a while about the “challenges of being a gamer’s girlfriend.”

The saying goes, “Don’t take grievances out on family,” but the esports scene was the exact opposite. 

Criticism radiated outward from the player as the center, targeting everyone within an eighteen-generation radius—with girlfriends bearing the brunt. 

Their looks, education, and family backgrounds were frequently dissected in forum posts, and the slightest relationship hiccup became fodder for gossip across the entire league.

“Plus, some of these pro players aren’t just average-looking—their education levels are questionable too. They haven’t even won championships, yet they’re popular with minor influencers, dating one stunning girl after another. And with their melon-head faces, cheating is practically routine.”  

“The ‘gamer halo’ is way too strong. It’s terrifying,” the group agreed in unison.

Moli asked curiously, “Then why do you date esports players?”  

“Clout is part of it,” Yi Yi admitted candidly. “But he’s also loaded. Being the main team’s girlfriend is a huge ego boost.”

Esports fandoms were different from typical celebrity fanbases—performance was what mattered most, so relationships weren’t as taboo. 

If you were good, even having a “gamer uncle” wouldn’t be an issue.

Moli took a sip of coffee to steady herself. “I see…”  

Someone else asked, “By the way, do any of you follow esports players?”  

Finally.  

After nearly an hour of small talk, they’d finally arrived at the topic.  

“I don’t follow esports much, so I don’t know many people,” 

Xu Yitong chimed in smoothly, then paused before hinting, “I only know Yu Ge.”  

The moment this name was uttered, it was as if a taboo had been breached—the conversation came to an abrupt halt.  

The others exchanged knowing glances, their expressions turning subtle.  

After an awkward silence, Yi Yi asked, “You like Fish?”  

“You like Fish,” another repeated, almost involuntarily.  

Xu Yitong didn’t catch the subtext. 

“Yeah, him. Is that weird?”  

Another stretch of silence.  

After exchanging looks with the others, Yi Yi turned back and answered the esports newbie objectively: “Well, he’s definitely popular.”  

As one of the LPL’s “flagship stars,” the ID “OG-Fish” carried its own prestige, radiating charisma. 

Anyone who followed esports gossip knew Yu Ge was highly sought after.  

These gamer girlfriends were semi-insiders. 

Over the years, plenty of their friends had expressed interest in Yu Ge, asking for introductions—enough to fill an A4 sheet if listed.  

And it made sense. Those accolades were enough to make any woman swoon, and Yi Yi completely understood. 

Dating Roy already gave her bragging rights, but if it were Yu Ge? 

Yi Yi couldn’t even imagine—she’d probably strut down the street with the wind at her back.  

But.  

“But what?” Xu Yitong pressed.  

Another girlfriend provided the answer: 

“But Fish is impossible to get.”  

Hard to land? 

No—completely unattainable.  

After years in the scene, with no shortage of fame or top-tier earnings, he had almost zero romantic rumors outside the arena. 

This earned him a reputation in the industry as the last man with an unbreakable focus—  

Persistence was useless.  

Secret crushes were doomed.  

In short: no chance.  

Falling for him was like declaring, “Go ahead, you have full permission to hurt me now.”  

And Yu Ge never held back.  

After all, who could believe that even after two years of dating Roy and attending at least twenty team dinners, Yu Ge still hadn’t memorized her name?  

How terrifying was that?  

“Yu Ge couldn’t possibly like anyone,” Yi Yi concluded.  

Moli, fresh off her own heartbreak, felt this deeply and grew increasingly concerned. 

She was about to advise Xu Yitong to just give up—but then Xu Yitong looked up, eyes shining with excitement, and asked, “But what if it’s me?”  

“…”  

This silly girl.  

Having seen too many like her, Yi Yi held back from saying more. “Well… maybe.”  

This sheltered young lady clearly didn’t understand the scene. 

Chasing love all the way to Yu Ge? 

Might as well call it a trendy whim.  

“But,” Yi Yi offered one last piece of gentle advice, “you should brace yourself.”  

“For what?”  

“It’ll probably take him three years just to remember your name.”  

*  

The night after the afternoon tea, Xu Yitong sent Yi Yi the personal shopper’s WeChat info and promised to gift her a classic Flechazo bag at their next meetup.  

Not long after, Yi Yi posted a public Weibo update.  

The centerpiece of the nine-grid post was a selfie with Xu Yitong, captioned: “Today’s little joy—met an absolutely sweet darling [cheers].”  

Meanwhile, at the OG base, Roy was jolted awake by his girlfriend’s incessant calls. 

Groggy, he stumbled out of bed, phone in hand, to fulfill her request after repeated reminders.  

Even during the offseason, the OG base was brightly lit. 

The surroundings were quiet as Roy yawned his way downstairs, pulling up his girlfriend’s Weibo to find the photo she’d mentioned.  

The moment he saw the face in the picture, his eyebrows shot up.  

Pushing open the training room’s glass door, he scanned the room—and sure enough, there he was, seated by the window.  

Awen was nearby too.  

Seeing the two in a custom 1v1 match, Roy walked straight over.  

Xiao C leaned against the desk, watching the duel and muttering, “Why is Awen’s Lee Sin only leveling W? So damn passive! Who taught him this turtle-style play? Not a real man at all.”  

“Can’t handle losing, huh? Pay up. If you can’t win, don’t resort to personal attacks,” 

Awen gloated. 

“Today, I’ll teach you bot laners what a real jungle carry looks like!”  

Roy joined the small crowd gathering to watch the showdown.  

Two minutes later, a game notification sounded—first blood decided the match. 

Awen threw his head back with a triumphant laugh and typed “GG” in chat.  

Yu Ge exited the game, his tone indifferent. “I lost.”  

Xiao C cursed under his breath, frustration written all over his face.  

Amid the groans and sighs, Roy pushed through the onlookers. “Hey, Fish, got something to tell you.”  

He’d already forgotten his girlfriend’s detailed instructions and simply enlarged the saved photo to fill his phone screen before shoving it in Yu Ge’s face.

“Yi Yi says her gorgeous friend has a crush on you. Wanna take a look?”  

The young players who’d started dispersing immediately circled back around Roy, eager for gossip.  

“What? What?”  

These were trainees who’d come to the main team’s practice room during the break to duo with the veterans.

But they didn’t dare tease Yu Ge outright—just lurked on the sidelines.  

The man in the gaming chair remained still, arms crossed as he stared at the replay of the 1v1 on his screen, not even blinking.

If not for the black headset around his neck, Roy might’ve wondered if he’d heard him at all.  

So Roy waved the phone right in front of him.

“Girlfriend’s orders. Just look, okay?”  

Four or five pairs of curious eyes locked onto Yu Ge.  

The silent shadow of a man finally reacted—tilting his head slightly.  

But not at the photo. Instead, his gaze settled coolly on Roy.  

Roy immediately shut up.  

—The atmosphere plummeted to freezing in an instant.  

Awen swiftly grabbed the phone.

“Alright, alright, let me see.”  

Despite the summer heat, a chill ran down Roy’s spine. 

Facing those dark, icy eyes, he snapped fully awake. 

Clearing his throat, he backed off. 

“Never mind, it’s fine if you don’t wanna look. Don’t scare me like that, man.”  

Weird.  

Awen frowned at the photo. 

“Huh, this girl looks kinda familiar. Where have I seen her before…”  

Hearing this, Xiao C leaned in for a look too.  

Awen mulled it over. 

Gamers’ brains worked fast—suddenly, it clicked. 

“Wait, wasn’t she the girl from the last international opener? Remember?”  

This made Yu Ge glance at him briefly before turning away again.  

“Remember?” Awen pressed.  

Yu Ge remained unmoved.

“No.”  

Awen studied him, a teasing edge to his voice. 

“Really? She even gave you a bouquet of roses shipped from the Gobi Desert. That’s pretty hard to forget, no?”  

Yu Ge seemed done with the conversation. 

He hit the spacebar, pausing the replay, then pushed his chair back to leave without another word.  

Just then, Xiao C blurted out excitedly, “Oh, so it’s this sister!”  

The room fell silent again, everyone staring at him in surprise.  

A beat later, Xiao C’s trademark oblivious voice rang through the training room: “Fish, how could you forget? You even added her on WeChat!”