SMS CHAPTER 69

The global finals of Forest of the Full Moon, DSN vs. KYM, officially began on a sunny weekend afternoon in Los Angeles, USA.

This event was groundbreaking in every sense—a clash between two top-tier teams from different nations, and the first time a Chinese team had stepped onto the stage of the World Championship finals.

Would it be DSN’s fourth consecutive championship, or the first for KYM and all of China? No one could say for sure.

The event itself was extravagant and grandiose. The opening ceremony packed an entire stadium, with the competition broadcast live back in China.

Despite it already being the middle of the night there, the livestream was buzzing with millions of viewers.

Before the match, Kong Xian walked over to KYM’s side with a cheerful smile and took the initiative to hug Zhen Ning.

The broadcast director, fully aware of what the audience wanted, immediately cut to close-ups of Zhen Ning and Kong Xian. Seeing these two young omega players with so different styles, viewers couldn’t help but feel emotional.

[Huh? Wait, so they actually know each other?]

[A few years ago, who would’ve thought this would happen? This is the World Championship finals, and both teams have omega players!]

[Wow, back when we first saw an omega support, it felt fresh. Now, not only do we have an outstanding omega AD carry from our country, but they’ve made it to top-tier competition… So emotional.]

The camera then panned slightly, focusing on Yan Chengfeng seated beside them, staring at the two with a blank expression. Netizens instantly lost it.

[It’s been two years, and Head Chef still looks just as grumpy every time he’s in the US! Hahaha.]

[Yan Chengfeng, get a grip! Are you seriously jealous over OO too??]

[Haha, Head Chef’s clinginess is probably because he’s already imagining how Neither will reward him if they win~~]

[Enough with the shipping. If they lose today, it’s totally your fault.]

[Some of you clearly have terrible internet speeds. This isn’t just a ship—they’re a real couple. Want me to take you to the couple photo wall at that donut shop on XX Street to see for yourself?]

While online discussions spiraled into chaos, both teams had already taken their seats and entered the pre-game preparation phase.

The domestic commentators were all veterans. One of them, a retired player from a local club, began: “I honestly never thought that after commentating the World Championship finals for so many years, I’d finally get to see a Chinese team in this match.”

“Carrot seems a bit nervous. River looks like he’s been giving him some mental support—ah, he’s still young.”

Another commentator chuckled and added, “But Chef and Neither look relatively calm. I wonder what kind of BP strategy they’ll go for today. Will it be their usual Sunflower–Mooncard lineup, or their signature Mianli–Velvet Willow combination?”

Although the commentators tried to restrain themselves, they couldn’t help but keep bringing up the duo. Not just because the bottom lane pair had made their high-profile relationship public, but also because of their undeniable synergy on the field over the past year, which everyone had witnessed firsthand.

But this time, they were facing DSN.

Since its formation, DSN had maintained an impressive track record. Their strength lay in their nearly flawless BP phase. They had an overwhelming number of viable team compositions, excelling at almost every meta-relevant strategy. Moreover, they consistently targeted their opponents’ weaknesses with uncanny precision, which meant they had countless ways to restrict their competition.

The veteran commentator shook his head and gave a rather fair evaluation: “Let’s see if DSN gives them any opportunities. You have to know, DSN is infamous for their ruthless drafting phase. Today… it’s not going to be an easy game, that’s for sure.”

The match officially began.

The veteran’s assessment turned out to be spot on.

Looking back later, every Chinese viewer would remember this match as the one where their initial reaction was, “I don’t want to watch anymore.”

The reality was, the suppressive dominance of a three-time champion team was no joke. In the first game, KYM lost. A small team fight in the top lane during the early game threw off their rhythm, and they lost the first point.

In the second game, they faltered during late-game macro play. A failed dragon steal at the pit sealed their fate, and they lost another point.

With two games lost in the BO5 series, the situation was already looking grim.

In less than two hours, the audience in the livestream had started joking about needing oxygen to keep going.

[…Good night, fam.]

[Ughhh, this is so embarrassing. Why did I stay up late just to watch this frustrating match… let’s just go home already.]

[Hey, hey, it’s DSN we’re talking about here. Losing to them is understandable, but honestly, let’s not get swept 0–3, okay? That’d just be humiliating…]

In the third game, KYM finally adjusted their tactical approach.

Everyone chose the heroes they were most skilled with from their individual hero pools. It was… a sentimental lineup. All five players picked their signature heroes, and the bottom lane duo went with their iconic Mianli and Velvet Willow combination.

This lineup did bring significant pressure to bear, but DSN seemed to have prepared countermeasures for it. Their responses were precise, and the game turned into a back-and-forth tug-of-war.

Midway through the match, Tao Luo sighed gloomily, “If we let DSN take this 3–0, do you think people will throw rotten eggs at us on the way back to the airport?”

Yan Chengfeng: “…Can’t you think a little more positively?”

Fortunately, KYM managed to claw back a win in this game.

The first and second games were definitely losses they shouldn’t have suffered, but they managed to take the third game, albeit with great difficulty.

In the fourth game, they followed the strategy from the third game. However, it was evident that DSN had adapted even better this time. Although KYM narrowly secured another win, every player on the team experienced unprecedented lane pressure throughout the game.

Before the final game began, everyone gathered in the lounge. By the time a BO5 series reached this stage, exhaustion typically left players feeling numb.

Tao Luo: “We should probably stick to the same kind of lineup as the last two games, right? I mean, it was painful, but if we can drag it out long enough, we might have a shot, don’t you think?”

Zhen Ning and Yan Chengfeng both spoke at the same time, “No.”

Tao Luo: “Huh?”

Yan Chengfeng: “The reason we managed to hold out in the last game was largely because DSN hadn’t fully studied our composition and system. Using it once might have been effective, but using it twice gave them too much information. If we use it a third time, it’ll just be handing them the win on a silver platter.”

Zhen Ning nodded. After a moment of thought, he added, “The only way to surprise them is with a lineup that’s unfamiliar to both them and us—one they can’t easily counter.”

“Instead of passively letting them see through us, why don’t we just free them from the effort entirely?” Yan Chengfeng said, “Let’s relax and go big.”

In the global finals of Forest of the Full Moon, the final game of the BO5 series began as both teams entered the BP phase.

“Chef locked in Vine Witch as his first pick?” The commentator was surprised. “This is a healer that’s completely out of line with his usual playstyle. To be honest, it’s more like Admire’s signature pick. So is this… a pick-to-ban strategy?”

Before they could finish processing it, Zhen Ning locked in Noble Frog within seconds, plunging the commentary room into silence.

The commentators were at a loss for words. “This is…”

In the next few moments, it became clear that it wasn’t just the bottom lane duo picking wildly—KYM’s entire team had decided to let loose.

Later, this match became known among players as the “Swamp Miracle.”

Xu Hao picked Lizard, Tao Luo chose Mudman, Xu Minghe locked in Snake Girl, Zhen Ning took Noble Frog, and Yan Chengfeng was the only human character, running around with green vines, healing the four animal characters one by one.

The entire team was green, which already looked absurd visually. Strategically, it was even more baffling—there was no way any team would have prepared to counter such a bizarre lineup.

DSN, a team famous for predicting BP, had their usual methods completely invalidated this time.

This KYM lineup could only be described as “something no human would pick.” The top laner on DSN’s side was a silly American, and upon seeing this lineup, he couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear.

But Kong Xian stared at the screen, his expression strangely heavy.

This was the last match of the finals, and it had already been nearly four hours since the series began. After four textbook-perfect but rigid drafts, this sudden, unconventional lineup caught everyone off guard. The livestream chat immediately exploded.

[So fun, so exhilarating—I haven’t seen a draft this fun in ages.]

[Grilled Corn, have you completely lost your mind?? Why didn’t you stick to the strategy from the last game???]

[Did you pick your heroes based on color? If it’s not green, you’re not allowed to play, huh?]

[It doesn’t feel entirely random. If you’ve watched their streams, you’d know their skill with these heroes is definitely there. They just don’t usually pick them, probably to deal with DSN’s airtight drafting tactics.]

[AHHHH even though it’s not the first time, seeing Neither, an omega, playing Noble Frog is still so surreal!]

In the audience’s eyes, this bizarre BP was either the team completely letting go or a sign of utter madness.

DSN had already studied KYM’s usual strategies and operating systems thoroughly. But at this moment, this strange lineup left DSN with no choice but to figure it out on the spot.

Unable to grasp KYM’s intentions, DSN assumed this was a hidden composition or a new trump card and opted for a standard, conservative opening strategy.

But KYM didn’t play along. Unlike in previous games, their laning phase this time was utterly chaotic—any opportunity to fight was immediately seized, with no clear logic or order to their aggression.

Later, in a solo interview, Tao Luo explained their approach in this game: “I don’t know, honestly. Everyone else was playing like maniacs, so I figured I’d just go crazy with them. Worst case, if we get flamed for it, we all get flamed together.”

The bolder KYM played, the more DSN suspected a trap, making them even more hesitant to respond. Many later analyses pointed out that DSN lost precisely because they hesitated too much.

All anyone could see on the screen were crawling and amphibious creatures—tongues, tentacles, mud splashes, and tails—a bizarre yet fascinating “visual feast.”

What was even more surprising was that this composition’s pacing was… shockingly on par with DSN’s traditional lineup.

“Neither and River pushed the mid lane with Rift Herald while Chef and Carrot seized the opportunity to take the dragon! DSN has lost their mid turret and the Wind Dragon!” The commentator finally realized something was wrong. “Wait, this…?”

The impression KYM gave in this game was that… they had thrown all caution to the wind.

From the moment they chose their composition, every decision they made was decisive and without hesitation. They seized every single opportunity, no matter how slim.

The game had been neck and neck, but the real game-changer came when Zhen Ning and Yan Chengfeng went all-in on a ridiculously daring tower dive at the top lane high ground.

Without any verbal communication, they anticipated each other’s moves perfectly.

Zhen Ning’s Noble Frog locked onto DSN’s top laner, who was clearing the wave alone. Without hesitation, he activated his ultimate and dove in. The nimble little frog hopped around, weaving in and out while dishing out damage.

Yan Chengfeng immediately understood his intentions. From another direction, he flanked the target, cutting off their escape route. At the same time, he kept Zhen Ning’s health topped up with precise heals and even tanked the turret damage for him.

DSN’s jungler sensed something was off, but Tao Luo quickly showed up to support the duo. Xu Minghe held down DSN’s mid laner in the middle lane to prevent them from rotating, while Xu Hao capitalized on the chaos to push down the enemy’s high-ground turret, securing a massive advantage.

The arena was filled with deafening screams and cheers, but the players couldn’t hear any of it.

This match was exhilarating. Their opponents were strong, but unlike the previous matches, where every move felt like turning in a nerve-wracking assignment, this time they were fully immersed in the game. In the team’s voice chat, all anyone could hear were shouts of “Nice!” and “Go, go, go!” overlapping in excitement. It was almost impossible to tell who was speaking anymore.

This was the essence of gaming: pushing seemingly impossible champions to their limits, coordinating with teammates in perfect harmony, just like in countless hours of practice.

It didn’t feel like they were in a packed, roaring stadium, but rather a training room on an ordinary afternoon. They laughed and joked, played with a casual yet focused mindset, and completed yet another routine game with people they trusted.

In the end, they pushed down DSN’s Nexus.

When the victory screen appeared, their voice chat didn’t erupt in cheers right away. Instead, there was a moment of eerie silence.

Still lost in the game, Tao Luo suddenly broke into a goofy laugh. “Haha, wait, we… we actually won? I didn’t even get to fully enjoy playing Mudman…”

Xu Hao: “Holy crap, we won.”

Yan Chengfeng put down his mouse, murmuring as if waking from a dream, “…We won.”

Everyone was still in disbelief. This wasn’t a group stage. It wasn’t a ranked game. It was the final game of the BO5 Grand Finals. And they had won.

At that moment, Yan Chengfeng felt unusually calm.

He simply turned his head and said to Zhen Ning once more, “We won.”

Zhen Ning froze for a moment, then looked at him and nodded lightly.

Tao Luo sniffled and said, “Wuwu, this exhausting year is finally…”

It was said to be a year, but the truth was, everyone had sacrificed far more than just one year for this shared goal.

Three years. No, including this year, four years.

If you added the three years of youth training, it had been seven years since they first promised each other they would achieve this goal together.

At first, everyone felt as though they were walking on clouds, a sense of unreality. It wasn’t until they saw the trophy up close that the reality began to sink in.

Tao Luo, realizing it belatedly, burst into loud sobs.

She clung to the trophy and wouldn’t let go, leaving the host frightened. Xu Hao laughed mercilessly, clutching his stomach and mocking her tear-streaked face, while Xu Minghe stood nearby with reddened eyes, smiling as he watched them.

Yan Chengfeng, as the captain, had no choice but to step up at this moment. The microphone was handed to him.

Yan Chengfeng took the microphone and stared at it for a while before shoving it directly into Zhen Ning’s hands.

Zhen Ning: “You—”

Tao Luo sniffled and nodded beside him. “Yeah, let Zhen Ning do it.”

Xu Minghe and Xu Hao also nodded at Zhen Ning.

Zhen Ning had actually given the fewest post-match interviews this year.

He had won MVP multiple times during matches but always kept a low profile, preferring to let others take the spotlight and maintaining an air of mystery in front of the camera.

But this time, everyone unanimously decided that the right to speak should go to Zhen Ning.

The host asked, “This is not only KYM’s first time, but also the first time a Chinese team has stood on this stage. Is there anything you’d like to say to the fans who have supported you?”

Seeing that no one else was willing to take the mic, Zhen Ning sighed helplessly.

After a brief pause, he finally lifted the microphone and said, “When it comes to dreams or hard work, I’m sure you’ve all heard enough about that at this time of year.”

“Rather than telling the audience what we’ve been through and sacrificed this year, I’d prefer to take this moment to say something to my teammates instead.”

Zhen Ning first turned to Tao Luo.

“Tao Luo,” he began, “thank you for working so hard this year to lighten the atmosphere within the team. And for making those great Luo-style pizzas.”

“But if you keep crying like this, remember to avoid the cameras,” he said. “Otherwise, when we watch the replay together in the future, you’ll probably regret it a lot.”

The audience broke into warm laughter, and Tao Luo froze for a moment before bursting into a teary smile, raising her hand to wipe her eyes.

Zhen Ning then turned to Xu Hao, who stood next to Tao Luo.

“Xu Hao,” he said, “when people talk about you, they always bring up your private life first. You don’t seem to care, and sometimes you even joke about it yourself.”

“But we all know that you’ve never let personal matters affect your training, not even once. And this year, I know the effort you’ve put into training was no less than anyone else’s,” he said. “So… thank you.”

Xu Hao smiled and nodded at him.

Zhen Ning then turned to Xu Minghe, standing by his side.

“Lao Xu, thank you for sticking it out all these years,” he said. “From the youth training days until now, you’ve quietly put in so much effort. After so many years of hard work… it’s finally paid off.”

Xu Minghe, who had known him since their youth training days, felt his eyes redden at those words. But he quickly smiled, placing a hand on Zhen Ning’s shoulder and giving it a gentle pat.

Zhen Ning finally turned to Yan Chengfeng, who was standing beside him.

Zhen Ning: “To our captain, I want to say…”

Everyone held their breath for a moment, afraid to miss even a single word.

In truth, this was the moment everyone had been most anticipating—the interaction between the two of them on stage. During matches, the two were always so focused and professional, fully immersed in “work mode.”

But now, with the trophy in hand, it felt like the perfect opportunity for them to show a different side of themselves. The crowd eagerly awaited some sweet, romantic words between the couple, or perhaps even something dramatic.

However, Zhen Ning paused for a moment and then said, “It seems I don’t really have anything to say.”

The host and the Chinese-speaking audience in the crowd: “…?”

Yan Chengfeng: “…???”

The host, not anticipating such a scene, couldn’t help but discreetly remind him, “Ah, well, uh, if you have any heartfelt thoughts, or perhaps some hopes for the future of the two of you, you’re welcome to share.”

After a brief pause, Zhen Ning softly responded with an “Ah.”

“Captain, regarding the question you asked me a week ago— the moment you brought it up, I already had my answer in my heart,” he said. “I’m sorry it took until now to give you that answer.”

Yan Chengfeng’s breath caught.

He saw Zhen Ning raise his left hand, the diamond on his ring finger gleaming.

Seven years ago, they had sat in front of Ah-Jiang’s Stir-fry’s TV, making a promise as teenagers. And now, seven years later, here they were, standing side by side on this stage. How quickly time had flown.

With dazzling lights and confetti filling the air, the entire world seemed to be watching them. But in each other’s eyes, they saw nothing but their own reflection.

Zhen Ning smiled and said, “I do.”

[The End]

---

Author’s note:
The story of Kitchen and Baby Ning ends here~ Thank you all for your support and patience along the way!

The extras might take a while, as I need to take some time to recover my health first. Bows~

 

Translator’s note:
Thank you so much for reading! I really love this story and hope you enjoyed it too~~ 💖

As for extras… well, the author hasn’t posted any, and it’s been years… So as much as I’d want to share more with you, there’s probably nothing coming 😭