Chapter 174

The park was quiet as Mo Yin jogged along the lake, soothing music flowing through his headphones. After running for a while, a notification sound pinged in his ears, but he didn’t stop until he had run another two hundred meters.

Sitting down on a nearby bench by the lake, Mo Yin took out his phone.

— [Today’s performance was amazing.]

Ye Chi sent a WeChat message, accompanied by a cute emoji that didn’t quite match his persona.

Mo Yin locked his screen and looked up at the dimly lit lake.

He tossed the phone up and down in his hand, contemplating. The surroundings were quiet. Mo Yin slid his finger to unlock the screen.

He had told him not to come back, but his actions didn’t match his words.

Was it because this person had no memory module in every world, so he forgot what he said?

No one would actively want to be a blank person without memory.

So it was probably mischief behind the league.

Could this also be a natural person doing the task?

Mo Yin didn’t think so. At the moment of collapse in the previous world, he had a brief conversation with him, and although the duration was very short, he could feel his expression, tone of speech, and smile were completely unlike a natural person.

But it’s hard to say.

Mo Yin’s concept of natural people mostly came from the league’s textbooks, and a small part was based on himself. Although it sounded incredible, Mo Yin had never seen a second living natural person besides himself.

Mo Yin replied.

“Solo at 10.”

Ye Chi probably was staring at his phone and replied instantly.

“ok.”

“Can you play Twisted Fate today?”

Ye Chi boldly made a request.

“Your TF lane dominance is too strong, I want to try again.”

“Sure.”

Ye Chi replied with a smiling face and flowers, overly enthusiastic.

The silent system couldn’t stand it anymore, “Coordinator, you are too indulgent with him.”

“Oh?” Mo Yin casually said, “I’m just looking for an opportunity to beat him up again.”

“But if you do this, it will exercise his skills and make him progress faster.”

“So what?”

“Coordinator, don’t you care about winning or losing?”

The system was a bit excited.

“I’ve said that I don’t like to compete with weak people. It’s the nature of natural people.”

“Okay…”

The system sounded depressed, but at the same time, it didn’t refute Mo Yin’s point of view.

Mo Yin continued, “I don’t feel like a natural person now.”

The system had repeatedly warned himself not to blow the trumpet again, but it was difficult to take it back once he spoke, especially with Mo Yin’s tone of wanting to confide in something. The system was very curious and asked, “Why?”

“Aren’t all natural people supposed to be emotionless? But I seem to have developed emotions.”

“Who said that?” The system answered naturally, “The sixth generation of natural people also have emotions.”

As soon as the system finished speaking, it immediately went offline.

Unlike the previous secret muting, this time Mo Yin felt that the system had cut off the connection between the two people directly, leaving a state of dissociation.

Mo Yin raised his face and smiled silently.

Compared to the previous leaky behavior, this time the system obviously made a big leak, and in a panic, it didn’t know what to do, so it went offline.

Great, it seems that the system does not lack permissions, at least not as insufficient as it looks in the outside world.

Understood, but cannot say.

Sixth generation natural person.

Mo Yin supported his face, slowly pointing his finger at his cheek.

The alliance’s information on natural people did not mention such words as several generations of natural people.

The sixth generation of natural people still have emotions.

Then what about him? Judging from the logical language and tone of the system’s speech, it is not too surprising to behave emotionally for him, nor is it without feeling, more like an unknown.

It’s as if it doesn’t know what kind of natural person Mo Yin of this generation should be.

In other words, for the system, the sixth generation of natural people is recorded, so it can casually say what the sixth generation of natural people are like, and Mo Yin is an unknown.

The sixth generation of natural people still have emotions, but it is not certain whether the seventh generation also has emotions…

So, Mo Yin’s fingers paused, he was the seventh generation natural person.

*

Ye Chi was excited beyond measure. He opened instant coffee in front of his computer for a while, turned his chair, hugged his arms, stared at the screen, and the lively mood fluttered in his chest, unbearable.

“The waiting time became very long, a sweet torment.

Mo Yin’s ‘like’ kept Ye Chi staring for a long time, a surreal feeling of fantasy. Even now, Ye Chi felt as if his body was weightless, sitting in the chair as if on a lotus platform, floating.

It was past 10 o’clock when Mo Yin finally logged on, about 10 minutes late. His avatar lit up and a notification ‘2’ popped up beside it.

Mo Yin had sent him two in-game chat messages.

Ye Chi quickly clicked to open them.

——[M123: Took a shower]

——[M123: Ready]

Ye Chi was stunned for a few seconds, a tingling sensation running through the back of his head.

Since agreeing to practice together daily, the two had started to interact more. Ye Chi gradually realized that Mo Yin’s personality wasn’t as ‘hostile’ as he had initially thought; his superiority complex was mostly limited to the desire to win in games. Their everyday communication about games went smoothly.

Like today, when Mo Yin was late, he would also give an explanation.

But perhaps he didn’t know that his explanation felt a bit too stimulating for Ye Chi, who had been anxiously waiting for over an hour.

Ye Chi had always found Mo Yin very attractive.

Back in the internet café days, when he first saw Mo Yin in a live match, Mo Yin was 18 years old, just like him. Mo Yin was full of confidence and every move exuded an aura of superiority.

This aura made him shine brightly.

When he truly entered the esports circle and met Mo Yin in person, that admiration and yearning through the screen turned into real-life interactions between people.

He was the defeated, Mo Yin was the victor. Mo Yin approached him, carrying that familiar arrogance that disregarded everyone, fist clenched, lightly touching his.

The impact between their bones made Ye Chi feel his heart tremble.

After taking a few deep breaths, Ye Chi’s fingers replied on the keyboard.

——[Q123: Ready, I’ll invite you]

Ye Chi still chose Sylas.

Solo, he lost even worse than in practice matches.

Mo Yin was very dissatisfied and criticized him in the game.

——[M123: You’re not focused]

Ye Chi smiled bitterly and replied, “Sorry.”

“Let’s call it a day.”

Mo Yin replied like this, and before Ye Chi could finish typing his plea, M123’s avatar went dark.

Ye Chi’s heart raced, he exhaled lightly, fingers leaving the keyboard, feeling relieved yet somewhat lost.

Ye Chi went upstairs to wash his face.

In the bathroom mirror, he saw his frowning face.

Feeling a bit annoyed.

Since realizing that his feelings for Mo Yin were more than just admiration for a fellow professional player, Ye Chi had been feeling increasingly troubled.

Especially after he had tried everything to get closer to Mo Yin.

Mo Yin knew nothing.

This made Ye Chi feel a strange sense of sacrilege.

But besides self-condemnation, Ye Chi found it hard to resist that excitement.

What would Mo Yin, so cold, aloof, and arrogant, be like when he started to like someone? He looked cold as ice, like a robot. Ye Chi had touched his arm, and held his hand briefly; those brief moments of contact were unforgettable.

Ye Chi gripped the edge of the white porcelain sink with both hands, breathing heavily.

Before going to bed, Mo Yin saw Ye Chi’s update in his Moments.

——[Goodnight]

The picture showed the starry sky outside the window, two slender fingers making a ‘yeah’ gesture.

Mo Yin closed his phone, a slight smile on his lips.

He knew Ye Chi’s goodnight was meant for him. He didn’t respond, pretending not to know.

*

DSG’s first match in the summer season against Fire, a mid-tier team from last year, ended quickly with a 2-0 victory for DSG, dispelling rumors of poor training matches. Fans rejoiced once again, and those who went on stage had already booked this year’s world championship.

The team was well-prepared, their faces showing no signs of flaws.

Today, Mo Yin was in command for both matches.

From strategy to team fights, Mo Yin was almost omnipresent.

When the voice chat was broadcast, Mo Yin’s commands were clear, detailed, and decisive. Fans who rarely heard him speak in-game were ecstatic.

“You’ve nailed it, Captain.”

Chen Dong munched on a chocolate cookie, “DSG really handed over the command to Mai Bao.”

“Wow, commanding mid lane is really exhausting, you have to lane and command at the same time. Man, that’s hardcore.”

Ye Chi was watching uploaded game footage. At the moment the game ended, Mo Yin picked up the cup on the table and took a long sip, nearly half a minute.

The director always liked to zoom in on Mo Yin. Mo Yin was ridiculously strong and handsome, a guaranteed crowd pleaser.

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as Mo Yin finished his drink, expressionlessly removing his headphones with one hand and quickly leaving. It was as if he had no idea that millions of people were staring at him, transfixed.

Maybe he knew but simply didn’t care.

In Mo Yin’s world, it seemed there were only games, competitions, victories, and defeats, and nothing else could move him.

“What time for solo tonight?”

“10 o’clock.”

“I have scrim today, might be late.”

“Then 11 o’clock.”

“ok.”

Short and curt conversations.

Ye Chi felt he was being opportunistic, but at the same time, hypocritical. There were many things he wanted to say, but couldn’t possibly tell Mo Yin. He had a gut feeling that if he did, Mo Yin would…

What would Mo Yin do?

Would he be surprised or dismissive?

Maybe just as Ye Chi speculated, he knew but didn’t care.

Ye Chi was driving himself crazy with these thoughts but kept a calm exterior. His teammates only saw him holding his phone, waiting for the game queue.

Around 10:45 PM, Ye Chi logged in with his alternate account, waiting. He opened two private chat boxes, determined not to overthink tonight.

If he showed weakness and disappointed Mo Yin, perhaps their tenuous connection would vanish.

No, Ye Chi thought wearily, covering his face. He didn’t play games to win anyone’s favor.

Competition, gaming—they were pure things, just like his feelings for Mo Yin. They were pure, and shouldn’t be mixed.

Ye Chi put his hands down, his wildly beating heart finally settling down.

Today, Mo Yin wasn’t late.

Ye Chi created a room and invited Mo Yin. He typed to ask what hero Mo Yin would choose, but suddenly had a selfish idea. Without thinking too much about the consequences, or perhaps having thought about them and dismissing it quickly, he typed rapidly, as if it required no thought.

——[Q123: My computer is lagging, I’ll switch to another one. Can you wait five minutes?]

——[M123: 1]

Ye Chi shut down.

“Captain, early to bed tonight?”

Seeing Ye Chi leave the training room, computer off, Chen Dong asked.

Ye Chi nodded without changing his expression, “Yeah,” he said, “I have a headache.”

“Oh, then go rest upstairs. Need some painkillers?”

“No need, I’ll lie down for a while.”

In his upstairs room, Ye Chi took out his gaming laptop, specially configured for gaming. He immediately invited Mo Yin to the room as soon as he logged in, afraid Mo Yin would get impatient and say “forget it.”

The game restarted.

Ye Chi’s heart raced faster and faster.

He continued typing.

——[Q123: Let’s use voice chat, typing is too slow for real-time communication]

Ye Chi waited nervously and anxiously.

After what felt like a long time, maybe just a few seconds, or possibly several minutes—Ye Chi couldn’t tell, staring at the chat boxes so intently—Mo Yin didn’t reply.

Ye Chi’s mind gradually calmed down. He didn’t know what had come over him just now.

It was simply that Mo Yin’s attraction to him was too strong.

If Mo Yin casually replied, if he saw Mo Yin’s match through the screen, the fierce operation of the heroes on the field, his cold expression, the deep and somewhat weary voice during commands… every detail plucked at his heartstrings.

Since realizing his feelings for Mo Yin, this feeling had grown exponentially, increasingly uncontrollable.

Regretting his impulse just now, Ye Chi continued typing.

——[Q123: What hero do you want to pick?]

Mo Yin didn’t answer.

Ye Chi’s phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket. He took it out, Mo Yin’s signature “MY” was in the middle of the screen, with the line below—Mo Yin sent you a voice chat invitation.

Ye Chi was stunned for a few seconds, then quickly responded, fearing it would be too late to say “forget it.”

He answered too quickly, his breath heavy as he exhaled onto the phone’s microphone. He heard echoes of his own breathing from Mo Yin’s end, and even Mo Yin’s brief intake of breath.

The voice call connected, but Ye Chi was so nervous that he didn’t know what to say.

“Snake Girl.”

Mo Yin spoke from the other side, his tone completely different from their text exchanges. It felt as if he was right there, in front of Ye Chi, whispering in his ear, his breath warm.

Ye Chi was silent for two seconds, calming his breath. He tried to sound composed as he asked, “What?”

To Mo Yin’s ears, Ye Chi’s voice was noticeably nervous and dry, his breath uneven—sometimes hurried, sometimes slow.

Mo Yin leaned back slightly in his chair, sitting alone at his desk in his room.

“Snake Girl,” Mo Yin calmly repeated, “Use Snake Girl tonight.”

Ye Chi held his breath, adjusting his emotions, not wanting to appear too flustered.

“What about you?”

Mo Yin seemed a bit impatient, his tone cold and proud, which gave Ye Chi a mental image of his expression.

As Ye Chi was about to reply, Mo Yin pressed for confirmation.

“What are you using tonight?”