Chapter 163

The competition ended at 8:30, but Mo Yin didn’t leave the venue until close to 11:00.

From receiving awards, and giving speeches, to interviews—everything after winning took longer than the actual competition.

Surrounded by countless praises and compliments, Mo Yin remained calm throughout, his excessive composure even dampening the excitement of teammates, coaches, and staff. The team that clinched the championship for the second time seemed lifeless.

After the last interview, the teammates stood up one by one. Each wore a cold expression, looking more like they were disbanding than celebrating a victory.

In DSG, incidents of disbanding after winning championships were not unheard of.

In the past few years, players have left after winning championships—some voluntarily, some after negotiations, and others unceremoniously kicked out. None of these departures ended well, often turning ugly.

Since winning the championship, DSG had never maintained the same five-player lineup for the next season. Or, to put it another way, since Mo Yin joined, he had changed teammates every year.

The departing teammates rarely spoke about Mo Yin, treating him with more indifference than strangers, clearly indicating internal discord.

The team atmosphere had always been tense. Mo Yin wasn’t the captain, and he didn’t need that title. DSG was his team, without question.

“MY,” the manager walked beside Mo Yin, “Let’s grab dinner together outside today.”

“Whatever.”

“How about hot pot? It’s late, and there’s not much else open.”

The manager glanced back at the other players, “What do you guys think?”

The teammates expressed indifference as well.

Outside the venue, fans hadn’t dispersed. As Mo Yin and the team exited through the corridor, they were immediately surrounded by loud cheers. On the bus, Mo Yin put on his headphones, closed his eyes, and continued to rest. He sat alone in a row, and no one dared to approach him.

Tang Qi sat in the back rows behind Mo Yin.

Mo Yin was tall, and Tang Qi could see a bit of his black hair.

The entire evening felt like a dream to Tang Qi, as did the entire Spring Split. Everything was too beautiful and surreal, beyond his imagination, all woven by Mo Yin.

But the person capable of weaving such incredible dreams didn’t seem to derive any joy from it.

Tang Qi couldn’t sense any victory celebration from Mo Yin.

He tried to understand from Mo Yin’s perspective.

If he had debuted to such fanfare, dominating the entire game.

Then he started to understand a bit.

Winning a game was as simple as breathing; how could one be ecstatic just because “another day of breathing” had passed?

Tang Qi quietly looked around.

Each teammate occupied a row, absorbed in their phones, with hardly any expression on their faces.

It must be mentally torturous to be in the same team as such a formidable player.

Tang Qi already felt a subtle pressure himself. The joy of winning the championship was swiftly compressed, mixed with some shame and self-doubt. How significant was this championship to him? Was he really that happy?

Mo Yin wasn’t oblivious to his teammates’ feelings.

The atmosphere in DSG was “classic.” In system terms, such teams would get debunked within three episodes of a hot-blooded anime.

The protagonists formed a close brotherhood, while the antagonistic team’s exterior and hearts didn’t match, and at crucial moments, teammates betrayed each other, leading to disintegration.

Very classic. Mo Yin wanted to laugh.

That adult lacked imagination.

After twenty minutes on the bus, it stopped in a nondescript corner of the city.

This was a hotpot restaurant frequented by esports players. Mo Yin rarely dined out, but today was a celebration, so he didn’t refuse.

The waiter was already waiting at the door, leading about ten members of the team upstairs. It was an old Western-style house with five private rooms. DSG spared no expense, and the players settled into the rooms, each receiving a menu. The manager said, “Order whatever you like.”

After playing all night and enduring long, intense interviews, having only energy drinks and a few bananas in between, the young men in their twenties were starving, and the atmosphere livened up when they started ordering dishes.

“King crab, manager, how about two?”

“Order whatever you want, one each is fine!”

Mo Yin drank hot tea, his expression still calm and out of place.

“The core of the team, absolute dominance, the terminator affecting the atmosphere.

A very villainous character setup, one he enjoys and has no intention to change.

The atmosphere in the entire private room clearly split into two factions. Mo Yin stood alone, wearing an icy expression. Qin Kunlun accidentally let out a loud laugh, then immediately looked at Mo Yin upon seeing his expression, gradually restraining his smile.

“I’ll go to the restroom.”

Mo Yin set down his teacup and stood up. The atmosphere in the private room froze momentarily, only starting to flow again after he left.

Pushing open the restroom door, he met eyes with someone washing their hands inside. They locked eyes briefly, both pausing.

Ye Chi quickly reacted, saying, “Here for a celebration banquet?”

Mo Yin ignored him, walking straight to another sink to wash his hands.

The sound of water splashing filled the awkward silence.

Feeling the need to explain, lest there be a misunderstanding about ‘following someone to dinner,’ Ye Chi said, “Our team is having supper here. This is a shop owned by Sun Yuanyang’s brother, and ADT is here too.”

Mo Yin withdrew his hand from the water, stopped, and looked up at Ye Chi’s reflection in the mirror.

Ye Chi felt the scene was somewhat familiar but couldn’t place it. He stared fixedly at Mo Yin, his professional instincts kicking in. Though unsure what to say, his mouth spoke automatically, “Congratulations on winning FMVP again today.”

Mo Yin looked away and grabbed a tissue to dry his hands.

Without the mirror’s reflection, Ye Chi felt less nervous. He realized he had a lot he wanted to say to Mo Yin, an unexpected but perfect opportunity that couldn’t be wasted standing there. But there were too many things to say, and his thoughts clashed. When Mo Yin turned around, Ye Chi, unsure what had come over him, reached out and grabbed Mo Yin’s arm.

When Mo Yin’s face turned back with a cold expression, Ye Chi felt a chill run through his body.

It was an indescribable feeling.

One moment he felt as if he had been struck by lightning, the next he felt like he had discovered an enemy team hiding in the bushes across the blue zone saying ‘hi’—his whole body tingled.

Mo Yin slowly lowered his gaze, resting it on Ye Chi’s hand.

A professional player’s hand, with long fingers and distinct knuckles.

Mo Yin raised an eyebrow, sharp gaze scraping across Ye Chi’s face, eyes conveying two words—’Want to die?’

Ye Chi didn’t know why, perhaps some nerve in his brain had misfired again. It seemed he was hearing things, a voice telling him not to let go.

“I…,” Ye Chi hesitated dryly.

Mo Yin interrupted, “If you still want to play professionally, let go.”

Giving Ye Chi ten seconds chance, and seeing he didn’t let go, Mo Yin reached out and seized Ye Chi’s wrist, forcefully bending it upwards without any hesitation.

Ye Chi had worked in internet cafes before.

He wasn’t just a network administrator, but also did part-time computer repairs, changed light bulbs, fixed toilets, and dealt with troublemaking hooligans. He had a lot of practical experience. As soon as Mo Yin moved, he instinctively followed the force and tried to grab Mo Yin’s hand back.

The hands of these two precious professional players are clasped together. Ye Chi noticed Mo Yin’s hand looked slim but felt soft to the touch. The bones seemed elastic, remarkably flexible, as though they could be molded into any shape. Despite his cold demeanor, Mo Yin’s hand was warm and soft.

Ye Chi immediately let go.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Mo Yin gave him a cold stare. “Are you crazy?”

Ye Chi faltered, “…”

He found it difficult to explain, but his mind had indeed seemed to malfunction just now.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted…”

He couldn’t find the words in his mind.

Mo Yin scrutinized Ye Chi. There was a hint of distress in Ye Chi’s expression that reminded him of many moments in previous worlds, where he had seen the same look from others—yearning yet helpless. But in this world, Ye Chi’s gaze also carried a hint of confusion, as if unsure why he had grabbed Mo Yin’s hand and why he was looking at him like this.

“What are you thinking?”

Mo Yin tilted his chin slightly, his tone now somewhat teasing.

His demeanor had shifted from complete indifference to a hint of amusement. Ye Chi might be slow in some respects but remarkably astute in others. He was still dressed in the suit he wore for commentary, though he had undone the buttons due to the heat. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt hotter, his throat dry from the difficulty in speaking, and his thoughts, just gathered, now scattered again.

Mo Yin’s gaze remained cold as he stood face to face with Ye Chi, their distance less than half a meter. Ye Chi noticed that Mo Yin’s eyes were bright, like icy stars—bright yet cold.

The sharp, cutting look swept up and down Ye Chi, who then turned away, leaving with a comment.

“Nice suit.”

Back in the private room, the food had arrived. Mo Yin ordered seafood fried rice for himself.

He was always the solitary one.

While waiting for the fried rice, the system started to get curious, “Coordinator, why do I feel there’s something strange about the atmosphere between you and the protagonist?”

“What’s strange about it?”

The system honestly replied, “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it just feels odd.”

“Is that so?”

The system murmured in agreement.

“Do you want to know the truth?”

“The truth? What truth?”

Mo Yin held up his phone casually, saying, “He’s gay. He likes me.”

“…”

The system was shocked for half a minute. As the league’s most advanced system, it quickly recovered. “Coordinator, then you…?”

“We’ve slept together.”

“…”

System: Thanks, now shutting down.

After the dinner, three groups of people met downstairs.

ADT had lost, and they had also accepted the post-match interview. After the interview, they encouraged each other happily. During dinner, after a few drinks, emotions ran high. The pain of losing in the jungle and mid lanes made some cry, but fortunately, the private room was well soundproofed.

In the middle of it, members from team REAL came to visit, but ADT directly rejected them.

“He’s drunk, cursing inside.”

ADT’s team leader was in a dilemma.

Chen Dong, known as the team’s social butterfly, had a kind smile. “It’s okay, we’re all brothers here. We understand.”

“Damn it, Ye Chi—did you really say I was useless on stage? Screw your grandpa—”

Chen Dong and Sun Yuanyang: “…”

Play as you wish, joke as you wish, but don’t joke about elders.

Later, the two teams eventually gathered together. True brothers weren’t afraid to joke about each other’s family registers. Chen Dong and the others joined in with drinking and cursing. When Ye Chi returned from the restroom, he heard his teammates and members from another team cursing him for being “unworthy.”

So when DSG’s people calmly and quietly went downstairs as if they hadn’t just finished celebrating, ADT and REAL’s members upstairs were hugging and cheering, tongues loose.

“Jianguo, Jianguo, listen to me. Losing once is nothing. We’ll come back in the summer league!”

“Yes! We’ll come back in the summer league! You’re my good brother, let Ye Chi go to hell…”

Ye Chi was the only one not drunk. His tolerance was bottomless, and even Dong Jianguo’s reasoning of “you betray brotherhood” didn’t get him drunk after several glasses. Of course, he knew that he also wanted to drink.

I don’t know why.

“Alright, stop standing here in the wind. You’re all sweating. Be careful not to catch a cold.”

Ye Chi advised from the side. When he saw DSG’s people staring at them with their hands in their pockets as they came down the stairs, his face flushed even more.

He was a bit afraid to look at Mo Yin.

Even though he didn’t know why.

Ye Chi opened his arms and, like a helpful waiter, ushered people out.

“Don’t… don’t touch me—”

Chen Dong was unwilling and pointed at Ye Chi’s nose. “Captain, let me tell you, my ex-wife won the championship today, and I’m happy! Xiaopan—” Chen Dong raised his head to the sky and howled, “I wish you happiness, Xiaopan. You and Ximen must be happy—”

Ye Chi had no idea what he was talking about. It was embarrassing. He covered his mouth and dragged himself into the car. As he got in, he looked back.

In the team, Tang Qi had a red face.

Next to him, Ding Wenquan said, “Was his ex-wife winning the championship referring to you?”

Tang Qi: “… I don’t know him.”

“Xiaopan? Ximen?” Ding Wenquan thought for a moment, “Pan Jinlian and Ximen Qing? Talking about us?”

Tang Qi awkwardly said, “These fans are just joking.”

Ding Wenquan didn’t care at all. Then he lightly sketched, and said, “But the hottest is Grit?”

“Molars?”

Tang Qi didn’t understand. He was too busy with training, so most of those online memes were things Chen Dong forwarded to him before he found out. Up ahead, Mo Yin had already taken a step forward, seemingly unaffected by the farce just now. Ding Wenquan whispered quietly behind him, “That’s the ship between MY and Ye Chi.”