It turned out that the straight alpha cancer who had arrogantly declared, “An omega will only ever be a hindrance to my career,” was far more innocent and clingy in love than the average person.
Yan Chengfeng referred to this phenomenon as “backlash.”
Though his pride and childishness made it difficult to admit, he was painfully aware that his thoughts were now… completely consumed by Zhen Ning.
Whenever Zhen Ning looked at him directly, those clear eyes made Yan Chengfeng’s heart itch unbearably.
When Zhen Ning turned his back to chat with Xu Minghe, even a mere glance at the exposed nape of his neck was enough to send Yan Chengfeng’s thoughts spiraling.
And when Zhen Ning dropped something and bent over to pick it up, revealing a small sliver of his lower back through the gap in his clothes, Yan Chengfeng’s Adam’s apple bobbed—his breathing completely thrown out of sync.
“Your eyes are practically glued to him. Look at you, have some dignity.”
Tao Luo sneered in disdain. She glanced over at Yan Chengfeng’s phone screen and suddenly let out a sharp scream. “Yan Kitchen?! Are you insane? I just told you I have a toothache and need to eat something light. Why the hell did you order extra-spicy rice noodles for me!!”
Yan Chengfeng finally snapped back to reality and looked down at his phone. “…I must’ve tapped the wrong option earlier. Just deal with it.”
Tao Luo: “And you ordered four servings!”
Distracted by Zhen Ning’s beauty, Yan Chengfeng’s momentary lapse in focus resulted in everyone—except Zhen Ning, who got his chicken soup rice noodles as intended—suffering through extra-spicy noodles for lunch.
–
With the Summer Split came a major version update, introducing plenty of new content that required adaptation. The team’s training and competition schedules were packed, leaving little room to catch their breath.
Yan Chengfeng, while deeply invested in the team’s results and matches, couldn’t help but feel that he and Zhen Ning were getting far too few moments alone together.
A few days later, KYM faced off against ZC in their first match of the Summer Split.
Lately, Yan Chengfeng had been preoccupied with his own thoughts, but when Xiong Hao and the ZC players passed by, he was momentarily stunned.
The opposing top laner was a new and unfamiliar face. Only then did he recall that ZC’s original top laner, Zhang Shao, had been rotated out before the season started.
Yan Chengfeng frowned.
“What happened with Flame?” he asked Xu Minghe, who was beside him. “What’s ZC’s official explanation?”
Xu Minghe: “They said it’s for health reasons and that he’s temporarily moved to substitute. But Li Feng said the guy’s actually fine health-wise. It’s probably just a nice-sounding excuse… most likely, his scrim results weren’t up to par.”
“Still, it feels pretty sudden,” Xu Minghe sighed.
Player rotations between substitutes and starters were normal, but such decisions were typically made only when a player’s performance showed a clear decline—like Lei Tao’s, for instance.
However, in Yan Chengfeng’s memory, Zhang Shao’s performance during the Spring Split had been nothing short of consistent.
He suddenly recalled an incident during the Spring Festival holiday interview when he had accidentally overheard a conversation between Zhang Shao and Xiong Hao. At the time, he had only felt that the atmosphere between them was strange, and Zhang Shao’s condition… already seemed somewhat off.
Yan Chengfeng, along with the rest of the team, headed to the competition venue. As they passed ZC’s training room, he couldn’t help but glance inside.
The starting lineup of ZC was no longer there, but Yan Chengfeng happened to spot Zhang Shao sitting alone among the staff, watching the screen with a blank expression.
He couldn’t resist taking another look.
Noticing that his steps had slowed, Zhen Ning asked, “What’s wrong?”
Yan Chengfeng withdrew his gaze. “It’s nothing. Just thinking that Flame… must be feeling pretty bad right now.”
Zhen Ning also glanced toward ZC’s lounge.
He, too, saw Zhang Shao, and something seemed to cross his mind, causing his brows to furrow slightly.
After a moment, Zhen Ning shifted his gaze away and said calmly, “Let’s go.”
Yan Chengfeng didn’t dwell on it for long, as today’s BO3 match was the real focus.
KYM won the first game quickly, but in the second, Xu Minghe made a mistake during the laning phase, indirectly disrupting Tao Luo’s jungle rhythm. As a result, KYM lost, evening the score between the two teams.
Yan Chengfeng said, “No problem, stay calm.”
The start of the third game wasn’t smooth either. Both teams dragged the game into the late stages, and the situation gradually began tilting against KYM.
The longer the game dragged on, the worse it became. Yan Chengfeng made a bold decision.
He was playing Huanlin—a sneaky raccoon character capable of going invisible and hooking enemies, with high mobility as a support.
He took a highly risky position.
While invisible, Yan Chengfeng snuck behind the enemy team, predicted the movement of ZC’s AD, and landed a hook that caught them completely off guard.
The commentators gasped audibly. “There wasn’t any vision for KYM in this area at all! Chef just pulled this off completely blind! And yet he managed to hook the AD perfectly! What an incredible read!”
Yan Chengfeng’s play opened up the fight. Tao Luo, who was closest to him, instantly chained her crowd-control abilities to follow up.
However, Tao Luo had picked a tanky jungler this game, and Yan Chengfeng was playing a support focused on control, so they lacked the burst damage needed to secure the kill. ZC’s AD was about to escape with a sliver of health.
The commentator lamented, “Ah, they’re just short on damage! What a shame—”
But he didn’t finish the sentence.
In this game, Zhen Ning was playing Tarks—a dashing, elegant fox sniper.
From a considerable distance, he calmly fired a sniper shot. Predicting that the enemy AD would dodge upward behind their top laner, he followed up with a perfectly timed second shot.
The damage chained seamlessly, securing the kill with absolute precision.
It was a flawless team fight execution. KYM ultimately secured the win and their points for the match.
The audience flooded the match’s livestream chat with enthusiastic comments.
[Couldn’t hold it in anymore—ZC’s new top laner didn’t even think to block that last shot? They were also beaten 2-1 by KYM in the Spring Split. Is their management running the team with their feet? Might as well bring Flame back.]
[Instead of saying their top laner is trash, I’d say Grilled Corn’s roster this year is just way too strong…]
[Chef feels completely different compared to last year. Amazing, amazing!]
[Last year, Chef’s support style felt more like a tool player purely serving the team, but this year, he’s playing with his own style. Whether it’s finding opportunities or managing the finer details, he’s improved so much. Wuwu, I’m really so relieved~]
[Can certain A fans chill for a second? Why is everything the result of your support player’s efforts? Whether you’re looking at damage dealt or team participation… the MVP of the last game was clearly Neither, wasn’t it?]
Fans arguing over credit for their favorite players was nothing new, but regardless of opinions, it was clear to the audience that Yan Chengfeng’s recent form had been absolutely stellar.
Unlike previous matches, today’s win hadn’t come easily. No matter what, ZC was undeniably a strong team. After the match ended, the group went out for a late-night meal to celebrate.
By the time they returned to the base, it was already late, and everyone headed back to their dorm rooms.
The KYM dormitory hallway was silent and dark. However, five minutes later, one of the doors quietly opened without a sound.
Holding a pillow, Yan Chengfeng tiptoed his way toward another part of the base.
When Zhen Ning opened the door, he paused slightly in surprise. “…Didn’t you say we were going to watch a movie? Why are you bringing a pillow?”
Of course, Yan Chengfeng couldn’t say out loud what he was actually thinking. He cleared his throat and said, “Your little couch is too cramped. It’s more comfortable to lie down on the bed and watch.”
Lying on the same bed, sharing the same blanket—tonight, he could smoothly spend the night here. It was a flawless plan.
His original excuse had been: “It’s been a while since we watched a movie, and I’m feeling too stressed lately, so I need a chance to relax.” But the truth was, he just wanted an excuse to get closer to Zhen Ning. Watching the movie seriously was never part of his plan.
However, as soon as he lay down next to Zhen Ning and glanced at the screen, he saw the subtitle: “California, USA, 2003.” His face immediately darkened.
Yan Chengfeng: “…An American movie?”
Zhen Ning was silent for a moment before saying, “I just picked the one with the highest rating. Do you want to switch to something else?”
Instead, Yan Chengfeng sat up straighter, staring intently at the screen. He scoffed, “No need. I’d like to see why this movie is rated so highly.”
Five minutes later.
Yan Chengfeng let out a heavy sigh, looking like he wanted to say something but held back.
Zhen Ning glanced at him sideways.
Ten minutes later.
Yan Chengfeng pointed at the screen. “What’s the point of having so much land? Without a car, you can’t go anywhere. It’s nothing like here, where you can find a subway station within five steps. Too tragic. Americans are really too tragic.”
Fifteen minutes later.
Yan Chengfeng said, “I really don’t get how these actors can eat such overly sweet cupcakes. Just looking at them ruins my appetite. Still, nothing beats the comfort of Chinese cuisine.”
America’s number one hater, Yan Chengfeng, childishly and pickily nitpicked every little detail in the movie.
It seemed like he simply disliked the country, but in reality, America was the most innocent party here. What truly mattered to Yan Chengfeng was the three years Zhen Ning had been away.
As a teenager, Yan Chengfeng had firmly believed that gaming was the most important thing in life. He wanted to play for the rest of his life—until the day he could no longer lift a mouse.
But he had forgotten that the person who made him feel that way was Zhen Ning. It was because of Zhen Ning’s companionship back then that every step of his journey in chasing his dreams had been so resolute.
Of course, things were great now. They had reunited, fallen in love, and were achieving brilliant results together. Yan Chengfeng also understood that the best way forward was to never bring up the past again and let it fade into oblivion.
But he couldn’t help it. Sometimes, he still found himself overthinking, still cared too much. After all, when Zhen Ning had left, his reason had been: “I want a better future.”
When Zhen Ning turned back, he found Yan Chengfeng staring at him.
Zhen Ning fell silent for a moment. “What is it?”
Yan Chengfeng, of course, couldn’t tell the truth. “…Nothing.”
Zhen Ning quietly gazed at his face.
“Um…” Yan Chengfeng realized he couldn’t fool him. Scratching his head, he loudly changed the subject. “Are we… only allowed to do it during your heat?”
Zhen Ning: “…?”
For a moment, Zhen Ning was speechless. He had never encountered someone so blunt and shameless.
Yan Chengfeng said nothing more. He just stared at Zhen Ning.
Zhen Ning was all too familiar with that look—blazing, bright, and scorching, as if it could see right through him.
When they first met, Yan Chengfeng had used the same expression to beg Zhen Ning to play games with him at an internet café. Back then, Zhen Ning couldn’t say no. Naturally, now was no different.
Zhen Ning felt the heat rise to his ears and told himself not to fall for it.
He blinked, looked away, and calmly said, “It’s too late now.”
“…Oh.” Yan Chengfeng’s voice carried a hint of disappointment. “Alright then.”
Zhen Ning froze. Yan Chengfeng’s dejection was evident, with no attempt to hide it. But his words were still unusually compliant.
He reminded Zhen Ning of a large dog guarding a bone. His eyes seemed to say, “I’m really hungry, but if you don’t want me to eat, then I won’t.” It looked considerate, but those intense eyes made him feel an inexplicable sense of guilt.
In the end, Zhen Ning let out a silent sigh.
Zhen Ning: “…No biting my neck this time.”
Yan Chengfeng didn’t reply. He just continued staring silently at Zhen Ning’s face.
Zhen Ning’s chest rose and fell slightly as he compromised. “Only one bite—”
Before he could finish, his words were swallowed by a suppressed gasp. Yan Chengfeng, satisfied with the answer, immediately revealed his true colors. He flipped Zhen Ning onto the bed, pinned him down, and pressed a kiss on the most sensitive part of his nape, right over his glands.
The movie ended, the credits rolled, and the autoplay function restarted another playback.
…
By the time everything was over, Yan Chengfeng still couldn’t get enough. His body was warm as he pressed against Zhen Ning, leaning in with the intent of leaving more marks on his neck.
Still catching his breath, Zhen Ning pushed him away. “Get off… it’ll leave marks.”
Usually, when Zhen Ning was exasperated to the point that the corners of his eyes turned slightly red and he spat out words like “bastard” or “get off,” Yan Chengfeng’s heart would inexplicably race.
The harsher Zhen Ning’s words, the more Yan Chengfeng enjoyed hearing them. And the more Zhen Ning scolded him, the more excited he became.
But in the end, Yan Chengfeng held himself back. Their match schedule had been tight lately, and their appearances on camera were frequent. Zhen Ning’s skin was fair and prone to bruising—any marks would take too long to fade.
So, Yan Chengfeng obediently lay down beside him.
Zhen Ning, exhausted beyond measure, closed his eyes. His breathing gradually evened out.
Yan Chengfeng knew he was about to fall asleep.
Not wanting to disturb him, he lowered his head and couldn’t resist secretly taking Zhen Ning’s hand in his own.
Zhen Ning’s hands were beautiful, with pale blue veins visible on the back, wrists slender, the slight protrusion of his wrist bone evident when he held a mouse.
Still too thin, Yan Chengfeng thought.
The day Zhen Ning first returned to KYM, the moment Yan Chengfeng saw him from a distance, he had been deeply startled.
At the time, his emotions were a tangled mix of anger and resentment. On one hand, he felt it was deserved—Zhen Ning had chosen to leave, after all. But seeing him in such a state had been shocking.
Yan Chengfeng had assumed that Zhen Ning went to America for a better life. Yet the man standing before him looked worse than when he had been by Yan Chengfeng’s side. Looking back, he realized his anger had always been rooted in heartache.
He stared at Zhen Ning’s face for a long time.
“Zhen Ning, when you first differentiated, it was in…”
Yan Chengfeng paused, then bitterly spat out the word, “America. At the time, you were…”
By now, he no longer held a grudge. He only wanted to know what Zhen Ning had gone through during those three years apart. He wanted to understand how he had endured his first differentiation and heat alone. As his partner, Yan Chengfeng simply wanted to know more about everything Zhen Ning had experienced.
But after hesitating for a long time, he still couldn’t find the right words to continue.
Zhen Ning, utterly drained from his antics, was already on the verge of dozing off.
Hearing this, he opened his eyes slightly, furrowing his brows as he murmured, “…America?”
His voice carried a hint of drowsy confusion, making Yan Chengfeng pause.
“Yeah?” Yan Chengfeng stared at him intently, his tone uncertain. “Didn’t you tell me before that you differentiated a few months after going to America… isn’t that right?”
Author’s note:
Dumb puppy alert!
