Yan Chengfeng had no idea whether Zhen Ning had ever eaten that plate of fried rice in the end. Of course, he wasn’t about to ask.
This doesn’t count as caring, Yan Chengfeng told himself.
It wasn’t for Zhen Ning; it was for the future matches. The matches were the most important thing in Yan Chengfeng’s life, and since Zhen Ning was inevitably going to be part of the team, every member’s condition was crucial to their success.
If it had been Tao Luo or Xu Minghe, I would’ve done the same thing—clear-headed and logical. Yan Chengfeng easily convinced himself.
But after that day, the two of them had no further interactions.
It wasn’t that Yan Chengfeng didn’t want to talk. He had plenty of sarcastic, cutting questions ready in his head but never found the time or opportunity to say them because—
“The Spring Split is starting!”
On the bus heading to the venue, Tao Luo exclaimed excitedly, “This year, we’re sticking to our original goal: making it to Worlds, crushing the Americans in December, and then taking our prize money to go skiing in Australia!”
“Don’t think so far ahead.”
Yan Chengfeng mercilessly doused her excitement. “First of all, December is summer in Australia. Second, we don’t even know how we’ll perform tonight.”
Tao Luo instantly deflated.
In the FPL Professional League of Forest of the Full Moon, there were three major competitions: the Spring Split, the Summer Split, and the World Championship, held in the United States. The other events were mostly smaller performance matches focused on entertainment.
The Spring and Summer Splits were essentially “civil wars” between domestic teams, with rankings and points determining qualification for Worlds. To put it bluntly, every team fought through the entire year with a single ultimate goal: securing a ticket to the championship.
The Forest of the Full Moon World Championship had long been dominated by American teams. In Tao Luo’s more aggressive words, the ultimate goal for every Chinese team at this stage was to “smash the Americans.”
Currently, there were more than a dozen domestic teams, but three stood out significantly in terms of strength: the wealthy KYM, the veteran DXG, and the rising star ZC.
Netizens had humorously nicknamed them Grilled Corn (KYM), Big Watermelon (DXG), and Fried Skewers (ZC). Whenever any two of these three faced off, fans jokingly referred to it as a “grand feast.”
Today’s match was between KYM and DXG.
“Welcome to the FPL Spring Split of Forest of the Full Moon! The intense showdown between KYM and DXG will kick off in ten minutes. Stay tuned!”
The host introduced with a bright smile. “The first match of the Spring Split features two strong teams going head-to-head. It’s bound to be an exciting night.”
Before matches began, commentators would typically provide a brief analysis of the players on both teams.
“Carrot and Chef had excellent synergy as a jungler-support duo last year. Tao Luo’s Zhige, combined with Yan Chengfeng’s Mianli, produced some incredible plays,” one commentator noted. “I’m really curious to see what jungler-support combination they’ll bring out this season.”
The FPL not only attracted massive live audiences at offline venues but was also broadcast nationwide, allowing viewers to interact in the comment sections. Simply put, it gave them a platform to roast the players in real-time.
[Head Chef, you got this! Grilled Corn, let’s goooo!!]
[Love Luo, trust Luo, protect the best Tao Luo in the world!!]
[Big Watermelon, just crush their bot lane to win. Open your eyes and choose your lineup properly to make sure Grilled Corn completely flops this year, okay?]
The chat was a chaotic mess, but since KYM was a major club and Yan Chengfeng was a high-profile figure, a large proportion of the comments mentioned his name.
Of course, alongside the encouragement, there were also snarky remarks like: [Why does an alpha playing support even have so many fans cheering for him?]
But those comments were quickly drowned out by others.
The camera panned to show all the members of KYM.
Another commentator’s voice carried a hint of amusement. “You can see that the KYM players seem to be in a good mood, and the team atmosphere appears lively. They’re probably discussing the strategies they’ll use in today’s match.”
Meanwhile, inside the KYM team—
Tao Luo asked, “Lao Xu, do you know why planes can fly so high but never hit the stars?”
Xu Minghe: “I don’t know.”
Tao Luo cheerfully answered, “Because the stars can Flash!”
Xu Minghe: “…”
Xu Hao: “…Thanks, that really gave me chills.”
During the tedious equipment debugging phase, Yan Chengfeng absentmindedly clicked his mouse while Tao Luo told yet another one of her lame jokes. It was one of the ways the team relaxed before every match.
Normally, Yan Chengfeng might have responded with a few remarks, but today, he wasn’t paying attention at all.
Every time he thought back to that confrontation with Zhen Ning in the training room that noon, his emotions became overwhelmingly complicated.
Although he had absolutely no regrets about what he’d done—he even felt extremely satisfied—whenever he recalled the sight of Zhen Ning’s watery eyes under the suppression of his pheromones, coupled with the fact that Zhen Ning was now an omega, Yan Chengfeng couldn’t help but feel a subtle, inexplicable discomfort.
He had been tense all day, carefully controlling himself to avoid letting his gaze linger on Zhen Ning.
But just before they left the lounge to head to the stage, he couldn’t resist glancing back as if it were nothing.
Zhen Ning was chatting with the assistant coach.
As a substitute, Zhen Ning didn’t have to play today, but he had still changed into the team uniform as required.
It was just a brief glimpse, but even after Yan Chengfeng stepped onto the stage and sat down at the center of the venue, with countless cameras and the gazes of the audience focused on him, he still found himself in a trance.
KYM’s team uniform was ugly, cluttered with flashy sponsor labels, and its base color was a dull, dark gray. Only the team logo on the back was somewhat decent.
This uniform, which consistently ranked in the top three of the annual “Which Club Has the Ugliest Team Uniform?” polls, had once meant everything to Yan Chengfeng during youth training. Back then, he had dreamed of wearing it to play in real matches alongside Zhen Ning.
In the end, Yan Chengfeng had indeed worn the uniform. He had worn it for three years—up until now. But he was the only one who ended up wearing it.
Today was the first time he had seen Zhen Ning in that uniform.
It might have been ugly, but Zhen Ning’s physique was excellent. He stood straight, his exposed wrists slender and fair. Against the subdued gray of the fabric, his cool and clean aura somehow neutralized a good portion of the uniform’s unattractiveness.
It even made him… hard to look away from.
What the hell am I thinking?
Yan Chengfeng snapped back to his senses, suddenly incredulous at himself. So what if the uniform looks good on him? He still can’t even make the starting lineup. Isn’t this all his own doing?
He exhaled and glanced at the chatbox in the bottom-left corner of the game room, forcing himself to refocus on the match.
[KYM-Hao] has joined the room.
[KYM-Carrot] has joined the room.
[KYM-River] has joined the room.
[KYM-Ltao] has joined the room.
[KYM-Chef] has joined the room.
The IDs corresponded to top-laner Xu Hao, jungler Tao Luo, mid-laner Xu Minghe, bottom-laner Lei Tao, and Yan Chengfeng as support.
Before the game officially began, Tao Luo piped up, “Fam, can we end this quickly with a 2-0? I really want to get home early and eat dinner!”
Xu Hao: “…Ancestor, I’m begging you, don’t jinx it.”
As it turned out, she had indeed jinxed them.
KYM won the first game fairly smoothly. They used a lineup they had been consistently practicing, and when a mid-game team fight broke out in the dragon pit, they secured a team wipe under Yan Chengfeng’s command, wrapping up the match without any suspense.
However, the second game took a far more unpredictable turn.
The opposing team, DXG, being highly experienced, quickly adapted after their loss in the first match and began actively seeking opportunities. They identified Lei Tao as the most unstable player in KYM’s current lineup.
As a result, DXG’s jungler relentlessly targeted the bottom lane. Less than five minutes into the game, Lei Tao was ambushed and killed during the laning phase.
This threw off Tao Luo’s jungle pathing, forcing her to adapt and disrupting her rhythm. The economic gap between the two teams steadily widened, and by the late game, KYM couldn’t recover. They ultimately lost the second match.
With one win and one loss, the match reached a deciding game.
The livestream chat flooded with comments:
[LOL, how are you losing this, Grilled Corn?]
[Lei Tao is completely out of it. Honestly, even if Chef Yan split into three clones, he couldn’t save teammates who just keep dying one after another…]
[That’s it, DXG! Keep it up for Mama!!!]
After the loss, the atmosphere in KYM’s lounge grew noticeably heavy.
Tao Luo looked visibly aggrieved. “Guys, I can’t just change my jungle rhythm on the fly. Especially in the second game with Strawberry Man—I rely on maintaining the rhythm. If even one lane collapses, I’m useless. I can’t do anything to help.”
She didn’t explicitly name which lane had collapsed, but everyone knew it was the bottom lane. More specifically, they knew it was Lei Tao who had made the critical mistakes.
That’s how matches go. A seemingly minor error at a key moment might not appear fatal, but the butterfly effect it triggers can be catastrophic. A single death can disrupt the team’s overall rhythm, and even the gap of one small item can be the deciding factor between victory and defeat.
Still, it wasn’t entirely Lei Tao’s fault. The opponents knew exactly who KYM’s weakest link was right now, and they knew Lei Tao was also the most mentally fragile.
So by focusing their pressure on him, winning wouldn’t be too difficult.
Joe and the assistant coach spoke to Lei Tao. Whatever they said made his expression turn grim, but in the end, he nodded and slumped dejectedly into his chair.
Joe patted Lei Tao’s shoulder, then turned and walked toward the corner where Zhen Ning had been sitting silently the entire time.
The distance was too far for anyone to make out their conversation clearly. Tao Luo looked around and asked with a confused expression, “What’s going on? Why aren’t we heading back to the stage yet?”
But Yan Chengfeng suddenly realized something.
His breathing hitched, and his gaze locked onto Zhen Ning’s face.
Moments later, he heard Zhen Ning softly say to Joe, “Okay.”
He didn’t explain what was “okay” or what he was agreeing to, but Yan Chengfeng knew exactly what that word meant.
His breathing quickened.
“…And that’s why handling the small team fights around the river will be critical. We’ll have to see how KYM adjusts their strategy in the next match.” The commentator was analyzing the upcoming game when a message came through his earpiece. His expression suddenly turned animated. “Dear viewers, we’ve just received an update—due to a strategic adjustment, KYM has decided to bring in their substitute AD player!”
Not only were the commentators unable to contain their emotions, but the audience at the venue erupted in commotion as well. Meanwhile, the number of comments flooding the livestream chat skyrocketed, reflecting widespread confusion over KYM’s decision.
[Subbing in a backup during the first game of the Spring Split? Grilled Corn, are you insane, or am I??]
[Wait, wait, a new AD… could it be that omega?!]
[No offense, but swapping in a substitute for the final game of a BO3 feels a bit unfair, don’t you think? And if I’m not mistaken, this is his first-ever pro match. If they lose, the backlash will be brutal. KYM, what the hell are you thinking?]
Everyone was in disbelief over KYM’s decision.
However, as the break ended and the camera showed KYM’s players returning, it became clear that Lei Tao had indeed been replaced.
In his place was a slender, unfamiliar-looking young man.
Until now, no one had actually seen KYM’s newly announced AD. The only image available was a small, blurry official profile photo.
Those types of pictures were usually over-processed with beauty filters and smoothing effects, so while someone had remarked at the time that the new player “looked pretty decent,” it hadn’t sparked much interest. Most of the buzz had focused on the words “omega” and “new AD.”
Just as the camera zoomed in on Zhen Ning’s face, he happened to lift his eyes and glance directly into the lens.
It was a casual look, and his eyelashes trembled slightly before he looked away calmly.
For a moment, the chat fell silent. Then, suddenly, it exploded—
[Hiss…]
[WTF WTF WTF, this new AD has a killer face! I thought he’d be a soft and sweet omega, but wow, he gives off a completely different vibe 🚬🚬]
[That’s enough. Stop simping just because he’s an omega. What’s the point of good looks? If he can’t play well, he’s still going to be useless.]
“This is Neither’s first appearance in the FPL. He seems to be handling his nerves pretty well.”
The commentator, maintaining his professionalism despite the astonishment, continued, “Based on the stats provided by KYM, his rankings and data on the NA server have been exceptional. Let’s look forward to seeing how he performs in this match.”
The camera cut to Zhen Ning as he took his seat. He appeared calm, speaking with the coach beside him.
However, the next camera angle made the commentator freeze. “Eh—?”
Yan Chengfeng was sitting next to Zhen Ning. Just as the camera cut to him, it captured the precise moment he set his cup down after taking a sip.
For some reason, his hand visibly shook as he did so, which was why the commentator was startled.
Fortunately, all the players’ water bottles had caps, so only a small amount of water spilled onto the table. A staff member immediately rushed over with tissues.
Yan Chengfeng frowned and waved them off, indicating he would clean it up himself.
It was just a minor accident, seemingly caused by a simple slip of the hand, but the chat couldn’t resist poking fun:
[HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, the panic was visible to the naked eye.]
[That said, I’ve never seen Chef this flustered before. For such a small match, he’s carrying way too much pressure.]
[If I were Head Chef, I wouldn’t be calm either. First two games and the AD kept feeding, and now the sub who’s never played a single pro match is stepping in for the final game. How are you even supposed to play this game, hahaha.]
“Oops.” The commentator laughed, quickly trying to smooth things over. “It looks like Chef just… had a little slip of the hand.”
“Everyone wants to start the Spring Split with a win to earn points. It’s natural to be a little tense.”
The other commentator chimed in with a joke. “This final game is really shaping up to be a must-watch. Viewers, you can join in by voting for your favorite team…”
The paper towel slowly absorbed the water on the desk. Feeling Zhen Ning’s gaze beside him, Yan Chengfeng crumpled the tissue bit by bit in his hand.
His jaw tightened, and though his expression betrayed nothing, his mind was in complete disarray.
This wasn’t nervousness.
He’d been competing for almost three years and understood how unpredictable wins and losses were. There was no way he’d get so nervous that his hands would shake over a regular Spring Split BO3 match.
In fact, Yan Chengfeng was known as the player with the steadiest hands on the team. His mechanics, like kiting, were widely recognized as some of the best among all active players. Yet just now, while holding a water bottle that wasn’t even heavy, his hand had unexpectedly trembled.
Yan Chengfeng had known that Zhen Ning’s return to KYM would eventually lead to him playing onstage.
But he hadn’t expected it to be today. He hadn’t expected it to be now. He hadn’t expected it to happen so abruptly, without warning.
Even though their relationship had already fallen apart, even though their conversations these days were nothing but confrontational, this was still the moment Yan Chengfeng had dreamed of more than anything three years ago.
He had imagined countless times what it would be like for him and Zhen Ning to play together in an official match. He had pictured whether they’d be on the red side or the blue side, whether it would be the Spring Split or the Summer Split, the regular season or the playoffs, a BO3 or a BO5.
He had imagined the weather that day, what they’d eat for lunch, what they might say to each other before the match.
He saw the system message “[KYM-Neither] has joined the room.” appear in the bottom-left corner of his screen.
He heard the commentator announce loudly: “FPL 2022 Spring Split, KYM vs. DXG, the third and deciding game of the BO3, is officially starting!”
This was his old obsession. He had thought he could let it go, thought he could meet the moment with complete composure.
But now that it had finally arrived, Yan Chengfeng found himself despairing at how deafeningly loud his heartbeat was. He couldn’t suppress the surge of excitement, because—
This was the first official match he was playing with Zhen Ning.
Author’s note:
When Yan Kitchen learned Zhen Ning was the substitute: Heh, serves him right that he can’t get on stage. He brought it on himself!
When Yan Kitchen saw Zhen Ning step on stage: Hands trembling, heart racing, and even spilling water.
