SMS CHAPTER 50

The first time Kong Xian met Zhen Ning was a few years ago at DSN’s base in the United States.

At that time, Kong Xian had just won the second World Championship of his career and was at the peak of his fame. Sponsorship deals were pouring in, and the team manager practically bent over backward to accommodate him.

Yet, that winter, the manager approached him with a rather peculiar request.

Nervously wiping his sweat, the manager cautiously said, “Here’s the thing. The son of one of our investors specifically requested to queue up for a couple of games with you. Just two hours a week—what do you think…”

He wasn’t a pro player or a trainee, just an “investor’s son.” Kong Xian was so angry he nearly laughed.

Kong Xian was known for his bad temper. Over the years, he had dealt with more than his fair share of shameless alphas trying to harass him. Without hesitation, he frowned and said, “Tell him to get lost.”

But as if anticipating this reaction, the manager immediately added, “He’s not an alpha, but an omega. A very young one, too. I heard he had a trial run with KYM back in China. Apparently, he’s genuinely skilled. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have brought this up.”

Kong Xian froze for a moment. “An omega? Playing AD? From KYM?”

The manager: “Yes.”

Individually, none of those words were surprising, but together, they formed a strange combination. Anyone would have found it hard to believe.

This piqued Kong Xian’s curiosity.

“I know you probably don’t want to do it, but the investor has asked several times, and I can’t keep brushing them off,” the manager continued. “Worst case, you wouldn’t even have to meet him—just play two games online. Besides, this investor is considering making a significant contribution to our…”

But Kong Xian seemed to be deep in thought. “It’s fine. Let me meet him first.”

That afternoon, Kong Xian walked out of the training room and saw a quiet, delicate-looking boy with a calm demeanor sitting on a sofa in the lobby.

Though the boy had carefully concealed his scent, Kong Xian’s sharp senses immediately picked up that he was indeed… an omega.

Being of Chinese-American descent, Kong Xian was the only Chinese face on his team. This was the first time he had seen another Chinese person at the base, which surprised him.

Tilting his head arrogantly, Kong Xian scrutinized Zhen Ning’s face for a moment. “You’re the one who wants to play with me?”

Most people would feel uneasy under such a gaze, but Zhen Ning simply looked back at him calmly and nodded.

Kong Xian didn’t waste words. “Let’s go.”

It turned out the boy had real talent.

After two games, Kong Xian realized the manager hadn’t been lying. There was a clear gap in skill between amateurs and professionals, yet the boy in front of him displayed mechanics and reaction speeds that were undoubtedly at a professional level.

Kong Xian had encountered countless outstanding AD players. Although Zhen Ning’s play carried the rawness typical of newcomers, his steady mindset and composed in-game decision-making were rare, even among many active players.

At first, their communication was minimal, limited to the two hours of ranked games they played together every weekend. They barely exchanged a few words during those sessions.

However, Kong Xian noticed that every time they met, Zhen Ning had made noticeable progress compared to the previous session. This meant that in the time they didn’t see each other, Zhen Ning had been practicing and refining his skills on his own.

Eventually, Kong Xian started to feel differently about him.

This kid was disciplined and smart, not to mention an omega, far better than the stinky alpha teammates on his current team, who only cared about fooling around.

One day, after they finished a session, Kong Xian decided to get straight to the point. “I heard your father has had a long-standing collaboration with DSN. We play pretty well together. Don’t you think—”

Zhen Ning seemed to have already predicted what he was going to say. “I won’t sign a contract, and I’m not staying with DSN.”

Kong Xian: “…”

He couldn’t understand. “With your skill level, not going pro is a complete waste. Someone like you could easily make it onto DSN’s second team. A few months of practice, and you might even start playing official matches. Don’t you want to compete on the same stage as me?”

Zhen Ning remained silent for a moment before giving a reason that left Kong Xian even more baffled.

“I don’t want to compete right now. I only want to practice.”

Kong Xian: “…Only practice, not compete? For what?”

Zhen Ning didn’t respond.

“Fine, fine. I won’t push you or ask again.” Kong Xian clicked his tongue, though he still couldn’t wrap his head around it. “But if you don’t want to play with me, then why… did you choose to practice with me in the first place?”

Zhen Ning: “Because you’re currently the best support player.”

Kong Xian was quite satisfied with this answer.

What he failed to notice back then was Zhen Ning’s use of the word “currently.” It implied that, in Zhen Ning’s mind, the title of “the best” was destined to belong to someone else eventually.

Although they never ended up competing together, their relationship gradually developed into a closer friendship over time.

Kong Xian enjoyed playing alongside Zhen Ning and began to take their weekly sessions seriously. He often gave Zhen Ning heartfelt advice about gameplay and strategy.

Yet, during this time, Kong Xian discovered that the omega boy—three years his junior—had a level of composure and restraint that was almost unsettling.

Zhen Ning hid his emotions exceptionally well, remaining calm and detached. His moods always seemed steady, like a quiet, beautiful little snowman, even though he was only about eighteen or nineteen.

The first time Kong Xian noticed a subtle crack in Zhen Ning’s demeanor was during an offseason.

The schedules for the North American and domestic leagues were different. The NA offseason coincided with the Chinese Spring Split. At the time, Kong Xian had declared he would rather die than spend his break with “a group of stinky alphas,” so he ended up crashing at Zhen Ning’s apartment. Zhen Ning had no objections.

One day, they were watching an ordinary Summer Split group stage match between KYM and a smaller team. Back then, it was rare for Chinese teams to make it to the World Championship, so many of the players weren’t even names Kong Xian recognized.

Kong Xian watched for a while before exclaiming, “So many new faces. The turnover in the competitive scene really is fast.”

Zhen Ning: “Yes.”

Kong Xian noticed that when the camera focused on one of KYM’s players, Zhen Ning seemed to freeze for a moment. His gaze lingered on that person a bit longer than usual.

Kong Xian turned to look at the screen as well. It was a young alpha boy—handsome, with sharp, striking features. However, his perpetually furrowed brow suggested he might have a temper.

“Looks like KYM’s new support,” Kong Xian said. “Do you know him?”

Zhen Ning paused briefly before replying, “I don’t.”

At first, Kong Xian didn’t think much of it. But then he quickly realized that Zhen Ning was lying.

Every time the camera showed this alpha’s face, Zhen Ning’s expression would falter for a moment.

Kong Xian also caught a complex emotion in Zhen Ning’s eyes. It was something like reluctance, or perhaps longing, but it was quickly suppressed, and his usual calm demeanor returned.

It was an unconscious reaction, a deeply buried instinct that couldn’t be completely concealed.

Kong Xian grew curious. And being the type of person who couldn’t rest without answers, he decided to press further.

The next time the camera focused on the alpha’s face, Kong Xian commented, “This new KYM support… you can tell his playstyle is still pretty immature. Sometimes it feels more impulsive than calculated—he’s aggressive but doesn’t know when to hold back. For example, in the early game, he should’ve countered the enemy jungler’s red buff right away. That river bush ambush was a mistake.”

Zhen Ning said nothing.

Kong Xian glanced at him and continued his unassuming critique. “Oh my, and look at this. How can he reveal vision in the dragon pit like that? That was such sloppy execution.”

Zhen Ning’s chest rose and fell slightly.

Kong Xian: “Oh, this is bad. If they lose this fight, then…”

Zhen Ning: “What he did at the dragon pit was to give the enemy team a false sense of vision, creating a favorable position in the river to engage. His teammates just didn’t follow his tempo.”

Zhen Ning: “And starting with the river bush ambush is his personal habit. He only does that when his bot lane partner is a short-range AD. It’s not sloppy—it’s just that… he was nervous this game.”

The room fell silent for a moment.

“Really?” Kong Xian feigned innocence. “But how do you know that’s his personal habit? You said you didn’t know him.”

Zhen Ning realized then that Kong Xian had been baiting him.

Having known Zhen Ning for nearly half a year, this was the first time Kong Xian had ever seen him falter emotionally to such an extent. “You’ve played with him before, haven’t you?”

Zhen Ning didn’t reply.

Kong Xian flashed a cryptic smile. “You turned me down because of him, right?”

Zhen Ning remained silent, which Kong Xian took as a tacit agreement.

“Why didn’t you keep playing with him?” Kong Xian frowned. “Your skills are more than good enough. You—”

After a long pause, Kong Xian saw Zhen Ning shake his head lightly and smile faintly.

Then Zhen Ning asked an unrelated question. “Kong Xian, is it difficult to compete… as an omega?”

Kong Xian was taken aback.

Was it difficult? Of course, it was difficult—no one understood this better than Kong Xian.

What use was extraordinary talent when, at the mere mention of an omega player, the first thing that came to people’s minds was always questions like, “What do they smell like?” or “Won’t their heat affect the team?”

Compared to other players, he had to put in a thousand times more effort just to prove himself.

Kong Xian was fortunate. The American team had started earlier than other countries and was more inclusive, but in the early days, he was no stranger to being underestimated by dumbass teammates and overbearing higher-ups. He had experienced more than his share of unpleasant incidents.

This was also why, in Kong Xian’s eyes, alphas were no different from flies. Yet, ironically, he had to work alongside swarms of them.

Kong Xian never bothered to hide his disgust toward those people.

He endured for a long time, but thankfully, he endured long enough to make it. Now, he had a voice, and his personality was strong and arrogant enough that at least those alpha teammates no longer dared to say anything frivolous in front of him.

Suddenly, Kong Xian understood something. “You…”

“I really wanted to stay, really wanted to accompany him, and really wanted to compete alongside him.” He heard Zhen Ning say.

Zhen Ning stayed silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on the screen. After a while, he said, “But at the time… he was just about to make it.”

Kong Xian didn’t know what Zhen Ning had experienced back then, but he vaguely guessed that Zhen Ning’s choice likely had something to do with his differentiation.

Kong Xian hated alphas, and the second type he despised most was overly love-struck omegas. But Zhen Ning gave him a… different feeling.

Zhen Ning had never directly told Kong Xian that he “liked” that alpha, but Kong Xian knew that Zhen Ning had never let go of this person in his heart.

In Kong Xian’s memory, every match involving the alpha named Yan Chengfeng was one that Zhen Ning never missed. He watched each game intently—even if it was just a small casual match. He didn’t comment or offer any evaluations; he simply watched.

He watched that alpha progress little by little, saw the frustration on his face when he lost, and the smile that surfaced when he won. He watched him grow, step by step, and this continued for three years.

By all logic, Kong Xian should have said something like, “An omega who can’t let go of an alpha is even dumber than a donkey.” But Zhen Ning’s love was so quiet that it even made Kong Xian feel a tinge of envy… so clean and pure.

For the first time in his life, Kong Xian found himself unable to be sarcastic toward someone.

Eventually, even Kong Xian couldn’t stand it anymore and asked, “Why don’t you go back?”

Zhen Ning was slightly startled. “What?”

“Why don’t you go back to him?” Kong Xian repeated. “You’re always striving to maintain your best competitive state, always making sure you’re ready. Isn’t it because you want to play alongside him again?”

Zhen Ning was silent for a moment before replying, “It’s not the right time yet.”

Kong Xian couldn’t understand.

He knew that Zhen Ning was constantly maintaining peak condition, always preparing to return to that alpha’s side. And yet, even though he was clearly ready, he only kept his distance, watching silently from afar. Kong Xian couldn’t fathom how someone could be so composed.

Later, news of KYM’s higher-ups being poached by ZC caused a sensation, sparking heated discussions for over a month.

After that, more omega players finally began appearing on domestic esports stages.

Then, last year, KYM made it to the World Championship for the first time, though they unfortunately stopped at the semifinals.

“We took a group photo.”

Kong Xian showed the picture on his phone to Zhen Ning. “I even met him for you. He’s tall, and his differentiation turned out to have a white tea scent. But since they lost the match… he wasn’t in the best mood, so his expression wasn’t great.”

Zhen Ning lowered his gaze, staring at the photo on the phone for a long time.

Kong Xian looked at Zhen Ning’s face and sighed. “You’re finally going back, aren’t you?”

–

At present, in the hotel lobby.

Kong Xian propped his chin up and smiled. “…Though I didn’t expect that in your first year back, you’d already make it to the Ji Ming Cup. Seems like you were holding back when you played in front of me back then.”

Zhen Ning gave him a somewhat helpless look.

“Who would’ve thought we’d face off against each other so soon?” Kong Xian said with a touch of sentiment. “Let me make it clear now—I’m not going easy on you on the field.”

Zhen Ning: “Neither will I.”

He paused for a moment, then, recalling Kong Xian’s carefree nature, couldn’t help but add, “Just remember, when we meet on stage, act like you don’t know me first, don’t—”

Kong Xian: “Too late.”

Zhen Ning: “…Kong Xian?”

Kong Xian: “Uh… no, just—look behind you.”

Zhen Ning froze.

He turned around and saw Yan Chengfeng standing not far away, staring blankly in their direction.

Zhen Ning’s chest tightened instantly.

He glanced at the time on his phone screen and realized he had been chatting with Kong Xian for two hours.

He had no idea when Yan Chengfeng had arrived or whether he had overheard their conversation.

But the truth was, just the fact that Yan Chengfeng had seen him and Kong Xian sitting together, eating and talking, made a lot of things… difficult to explain.

Zhen Ning let out a silent breath, then stood up and walked toward Yan Chengfeng.

Yan Chengfeng stared at Kong Xian for a long moment before shifting his gaze back to Zhen Ning’s face. After a pause, he spoke in a hoarse voice, “You two…”

“—You two liars!!”

Everyone froze.

At some point, Tao Luo had suddenly appeared in the hotel lobby. Standing behind Yan Chengfeng, hands on her hips, she exclaimed with heartbreak, “I knew it! You two didn’t wait for me!”

“I knocked on both your doors, but no one answered, and you didn’t even reply to my messages!”

Clutching her chest, Tao Luo was so upset she could barely speak. “So it turns out you two snuck off to the hotel lobby to enjoy some fancy afternoon tea without me! I even told you I wanted conveyor belt sushi later, how could you be so cold? You’re just—”

Her tirade came to an abrupt halt as her gaze landed on Kong Xian, who had been partially obscured behind them.

The four of them locked eyes.

Tao Luo: “…Huh?”

---

Author’s note:
Tao Luo: Wuwuwu, why didn’t you invite me for afternoon tea with the three of you!!