Chapter 175

Compared to text communication, speaking was indeed much more convenient. Mo Yin spoke sparingly, with a business-like tone.

“Farm six gods again.”

“Okay.”

Their heroes left the lanes, but the voice call continued.

Ye Chi’s room was small, and he hadn’t turned on the air conditioning, so sweat started to form on his forehead and back. In the voice call, the sounds of Mo Yin’s fingers on the keyboard and clicks of the mouse seemed colder than usual.

Ye Chi caught the sound of Mo Yin’s breathing.

He felt surprised at his unusual infatuation.

Ye Chi was farming in the jungle, earning gold. Suddenly, he said, “Your base seems pretty quiet.”

It was a casual remark, not directly related to the game. Ye Chi wasn’t sure if Mo Yin would respond. If Mo Yin ignored it or told him to stop wasting words, Ye Chi would just laugh it off, pretending nothing had happened.

Mo Yin could see through Ye Chi’s subtle strategy.

Before he understood emotions, Mo Yin knew how to manipulate them. Emotions were a weapon he had grasped well in the first world. After several worlds, when he himself developed emotions, Mo Yin no longer viewed them as just a tool. He felt a different kind of enjoyment from Ye Chi’s probing.

“I’m in my room,” Mo Yin replied, “alone.”

“I’m also in my room… alone.”

“No wonder.”

“What do you mean, ‘no wonder’?”

“Your team members are all noisy.”

Ye Chi chuckled.

“They’re alright.”

Mo Yin also chuckled, but it sounded like a clear, cold chuckle.

“You talk the most.”

Upon Mo Yin’s evaluation, Ye Chi’s lips involuntarily curled higher.

“Really?” he defended himself. “Actually, I’m the quietest in our team.”

Mo Yin fell silent again.

Ye Chi took the hint and quieted down, waiting for a while. Then suddenly, he reconsidered his approach.

Mo Yin called him out for talking the most among their team members. Wasn’t it because he only had private contact with Ye Chi?

Ye Chi was unsettled by his own speculation. He was slower to recall than Mo Yin. Mo Yin urged him, “Hurry up.”

“Coming.”

Ye Chi controlled his hero to return to base for equipment upgrades. He hurried back to the mid lane. As soon as the two heroes met, they engaged in a relentless exchange of skills, quickly falling to the ground together.

Mo Yin compared their equipment, selling one of his own items.

The phone lying on the table was starting to get hot, and occasionally, when Ye Chi moved the mouse with his right hand, he could feel the heat on his palm.

“Do you have a day off tomorrow?” Ye Chi asked.

The computer screen cast colorful reflections dancing on Mo Yin’s face. He casually replied, “Don’t know.”

Ye Chi remained silent, his breathing shallow. His heavy breaths drowned out the sounds of the mouse and keyboard.

Mo Yin glanced at his phone screen. The cartoon avatar smiled cutely. Mo Yin smiled too and said, “Maybe.”

Their heroes respawned, returning to the lane.

This time, they didn’t die together. Mo Yin stood with a sliver of health left, while Ye Chi lay on the ground, asking, “Do you have plans for your day off?”

Mo Yin could hear the tension in Ye Chi’s voice, the forced calmness, as if it were just a casual question.

“Yes.”

Ye Chi’s heart skipped a beat. He almost blurted out a follow-up question, but restrained himself, asking indirectly, “We’re also taking a day off.”

“Oh.”

They practiced until late into the night. Mo Yin finally said goodbye.

If he didn’t ask now, he might not get another chance. Before Mo Yin hung up, Ye Chi quickly asked, “Where are you going tomorrow?”

He didn’t ask, he felt uncomfortable. He asked, his heart raced, his face flushed, his hair damp with sweat. He felt foolish, yet unrealistically hopeful that Mo Yin would respond. He felt Mo Yin might, instinctively—that Mo Yin didn’t actually dislike him.

Ye Chi nervously waited.

“Base.”

With a cold, indifferent tone, the call ended.

Ye Chi was stunned. After a moment, he chuckled softly.

—

*DSG took a day off. Although it was a break, none of the team members left the base. With the intense pressure of the summer tournament, even on their day off, they couldn’t relax enough to go out and play. It was better to practice.*

*Tang Qi got up early, washed his face, and went straight to the gym. Mo Yin was warming up on the treadmill. Tang Qi sighed with relief. Mo Yin had suddenly gone upstairs last night, which surprised the team. Tang Qi had thought Mo Yin was feeling unwell. Today, seeing Mo Yin looking no different from usual, Tang Qi finally felt reassured. Last night, when Tang Qi was chatting with Chen Dong on WeChat, Chen Dong had mentioned that Ye Chi had also complained of a headache and had gone to bed early.*

Tang Qi felt something was off, but he didn’t dwell on it.

“MY,” Tang Qi stepped onto the treadmill next to Mo Yin, “Good morning.”

“Morning.”

Setting the treadmill to 3, Tang Qi began to walk slowly while Mo Yin jogged briskly beside him, making Tang Qi nervous.

After two “beeps,” Mo Yin gradually slowed down, grabbed the cup on the treadmill, and took a sip of water.

Tang Qi finally stopped Mo Yin, “MY, can I learn commanding with you?”

There was no one else in the training room that morning. Tang Qi powered up the machine and continued, “I’ll learn diligently so that you and Ming Ge can share some burden.”

Mo Yin also started the machine, pouring cold water on Tang Qi’s enthusiasm, “I won’t teach you. Watch and learn on your own.”

“Okay,” Tang Qi’s positivity was undiminished. “Actually, I’ve been learning from training matches. It’s just that there aren’t enough, only two a day. I don’t feel confident enough.”

“If you’re not confident, don’t play professionally.”

Mo Yin’s tone was matter-of-fact, not meant to be intimidating.

Tang Qi’s face turned pale. He was the youngest in the entire base, a year younger than Mo Yin. After a moment’s consideration, he rephrased, “I’m confident in my mechanics, but not in commanding.”

Tang Qi changed his approach. Mo Yin responded with a simple “Hmm.”

Observing Mo Yin, Tang Qi noticed that although Mo Yin’s face seemed cold and expressionless, there was no negative emotion lurking beneath.

“You have an alt account, MY,” Tang Qi lightened his tone slightly, injecting some deliberate liveliness into it, “I’ll add you.”

“M123.”

“Got it.”

“Found you, I’ve sent the request.”

Tang Qi chuckled after sending the request, “I must be your alt account’s first friend.”

“No.”

Tang Qi’s laughter abruptly stopped. He was so surprised that he forgot the respect he usually showed Mo Yin, someone who seemed like he was from a different world. He blurted out, “Then who?!”

Mo Yin accepted Tang Qi’s friend request and said, “A dumbass.”

With all teammates sleeping in the morning, Mo Yin and Tang Qi duo queued for three games. Due to their low rank, they played support and ADC, essentially stomping noobs. Tang Qi felt a bit guilty, but Mo Yin didn’t care at all. He killed enemies while teaching Tang Qi how to assess situations. Tang Qi took notes diligently.

At noon, Guan Ming entered the training room. He watched silently beside Tang Qi until their match with Mo Yin ended. Guan Ming, with a voice still hoarse from just waking up, said, “It’s my turn.”

Tang Qi agreed.

Guan Ming logged in and also added Mo Yin as a friend.

Tang Qi grabbed pen and paper, pulling a chair next to Mo Yin. “I’m continuing my studies.”

Mo Yin remained silent.

Tang Qi glanced at Mo Yin’s friend list and finally saw Mo Yin’s alt account, which now had three friends.

Q123.

“Inserting a flag at your base.”

Confucius says, “Study hard.”

Tang Qi’s pupils shook.

“‘Inserting a flag at your base’—that’s me.”

“‘Confucius says, study hard’—no doubt it’s Guan Ming. Guan Ming started as a streamer, and when asked why he became a game streamer, he said it was because he wasn’t good at studying, encouraging viewers to study hard. As a game streamer who preached studying, he earned the nickname ‘Guan Zi’ from his fans. Later, Guan Ming entered professional gaming, setting his professional ID as ‘Study.’ So this alt account ID is obviously Guan Ming.”

So, the remaining Q123…

Tang Qi tilted his head.

Among professional players, there were several with names starting with Q.

But who could Mo Yin call a “dumbass” except…

Wait.

M123.

Q123.

???

Could it be… a couple’s ID???

Tang Qi’s jaw dropped.

At that moment, the vast cosmos of his mind condensed into one thought—”Lao, I need you.”

Mo Yin and Guan Ming played a match, and they were much harsher in their banter than with Tang Qi. Guan Ming was practicing jungle rotations, and Mo Yin summed up the effect of his play with a single sentence.

“A forced melon doesn’t sweeten.”

It left Guan Ming speechless.

After the game, Mo Yin took off his headphones. “Let’s eat.”

And then Mo Yin left.

Guan Ming sat alone, his hand pressed against his temple. “Should I give up jungle rotations?” He directed the question at Tang Qi, but Tang Qi didn’t respond. Guan Ming turned and saw Tang Qi sitting in an esports chair, hunched over and focused on something on his phone.

“Flag?” Guan Ming called.

Tang Qi still didn’t say anything, his arms moving.

Guan Ming dragged a chair closer.

Even the sound of the esports chair sliding on the floor didn’t snap Tang Qi out of his focus. He was engrossed in his phone. Guan Ming tilted his head and saw a WeChat message on Tang Qi’s screen.

“…Did they secretly meet behind their teammates’ backs last night?!”

Guan Ming frowned. “Who secretly met behind their teammates’ backs?”

The lunch was ready, and Mo Yin sat down. Ding Wenquan and Qin Kunlun came down the stairs, both looking like they hadn’t fully woken up yet. They sat down like zombies, staring at their phones while eating.

For esports players, the morning was the most sluggish time.

The three silently ate. After a while, Tang Qi and Guan Ming also came down. They avoided eye contact and silently sat down to eat.

DSG, an esports team known for its overall quiet demeanor.

A phone “ding” didn’t draw much attention.

Mo Yin took out his phone from his pocket.

Tang Qi and Guan Ming instinctively glanced over.

Mo Yin’s expression showed nothing unusual as he typed with one hand, apparently replying to someone.

Tang Qi and Guan Ming exchanged a silent look, then glanced at the auntie tidying up in the open kitchen behind them, and at the team leader wolfing down food opposite them.

Among the entire base, the only two people with Mo Yin’s private contact information were here.

Mo Yin had no friends.

At least in the two years they’d been teammates, Guan Ming hadn’t seen Mo Yin have any personal contact with anyone. As for family, Mo Yin seemed to rarely contact them.

Tang Qi quietly took out his phone.

“Are you guys eating?”

“We haven’t gotten up yet! Continuing the previous topic, how about we talk in detail over a call?”

“Mai Bao seems to be replying to someone.”

“…”

“Damn, I just noticed something!”

“Crazy Brother isn’t in the downstairs training room.”

“He’s gone out.”

Tang Qi raised his eyes and locked gazes with Guan Ming.

Silence was tonight’s bridge.

“I’m done eating.”

Mo Yin put down his chopsticks, pocketed his phone, turned, and headed upstairs.

Tang Qi and Guan Ming turned their heads, following Mo Yin’s figure until he disappeared from view. When they turned back, Ding Wenquan, sitting opposite, looked at them, his expression clearly understanding what was happening.

Qin Kunlun, still half-squinting at his phone, mechanically ate, completely unaware that his teammates had all silently left, leaving him alone as the top laner.

The three teammates in the training room.

Ding Wenquan contemplated.

“My respect for MY and Quit is a bit different.”

“He really admires him?” Guan Ming crossed his arms, still somewhat dismissive of Ye Chi. “I admit I didn’t play well last training match, but in the mid lane position, MY doesn’t need to respect anyone.”

“Who knows? We’re not mid laners. Maybe they have some private communication.”

“Impossible. MY never makes friends.”

This old teammate Guan Ming was quite resentful.

Tang Qi, as a new teammate, didn’t have such strong feelings yet. He weakly said, “Isn’t it not good for us to sneakily peek into MY’s private life like this?”

Guan Ming and Ding Wenquan fell silent.

MY was too special. He was strong and aloof, more like a symbol or totem to worship than a teammate. Suddenly, the people around him discovered that he had stepped down from his pedestal. It felt strange, making them itch to know the truth.

Tang Qi’s phone buzzed for a while. While Guan Ming and Ding Wenquan remained silent, he answered the call. On the other end, Chen Dong urgently shouted, “I’ve hailed a taxi and am on my way to your base. Find a good vantage point and see if Crazy Brother is coming to your base to find Mai Bao.”

Tang Qi looked embarrassed, saying something similar to before, not to overly focus on teammates’ privacy.

“Privacy?” Chen Dong scoffed. “We dry our underwear together; there’s no privacy. Crazy Brother hooking up with Mai Bao behind our backs without introducing us is unforgivable. If we catch him, we’ll give him a good beating, and that’ll be the end of it, brother!”

Tang Qi：“……”

Your teammates, my teammates, seem quite different.

The three remained silent as the training room door opened, and Qin Kunlun, yawning, walked in. He saw his three teammates standing relative to each other and exclaimed, “Whoa, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

Ding Wenquan glanced behind Qin Kunlun, asking, “Where’s MY?”

“I don’t know,” Qin Kunlun said, pulling out his chair and sitting down. “I saw him downstairs wearing a cap, looked like he went out.”

At the entrance of the campus, Mo Yin wore a baseball cap and a face mask covering most of his face. He wasn’t in his team uniform, just a white T-shirt and blue jeans. After less than a minute, a regular Chinese SUV pulled up in front of Mo Yin. He opened the passenger door and got in.

“Been waiting long?”

“Just got here.”

Mo Yin took off his cap and mask, placing them in front of the car. He fastened his seatbelt with a click and looked up, meeting Ye Chi’s gaze.

Ye Chi’s eyes were as intense as the first time they met, restrained but unable to fully conceal the heat. His hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Ye Chi felt nervous, realizing it was inappropriate to look at Mo Yin like this, but it was as if he had lost control of his body, unable to take his eyes off the person sitting so close to him.

Especially when Mo Yin’s eyes met his own.

I must have seen him somewhere before.

Ye Chi thought to himself.

Sometime earlier.

Mo Yin didn’t avoid Ye Chi’s gaze. “What are you looking at?”

Ye Chi swallowed nervously, finally looking away to focus on the road ahead. “Nothing.”