By Zephyria 
【Did you guys watch the first match of the global tournament?】
【AUB vs. Mox?】
【Yeah! It just ended.】
【What was the result?】
【AUB got crushed!!】
【They were already at a disadvantage by the first half. Shock held on alone until the Red Gate appeared, with only ten seconds left before a team wipe.】
【No way, seriously?】
The skeptics quickly fell silent, as not only did Glory’s login interface display the match results, but the official website also uploaded the replay. The entire nation was watching this match.
Soon, the hashtag [#AUBFirstLossInGlobalTournament] surged to the top of trending topics.
Clicking into the tag, the popular videos only showed highlights and key moments, yet even casual viewers could feel the intensity and tension of the match.
The commentators started off excited and energized, but by the end, the atmosphere of despair had spread even beyond the arena, leaving the casters sounding regretful and disappointed.
【You can tell AUB gave it their all, but the opposing team is championship-level, right?】
【The Sky City map isn’t actually Shock’s weak point.】
【No helping it. One player can’t carry the whole team.】
【Even bystanders feel bad watching this.】
【ZLE’s rookie player is a nightmare, their performance was impressive.】
Within two hours after the match ended, major platforms began releasing analytical commentaries and predictions for AUB’s upcoming matches. The conclusions were largely the same: the opposing team’s rookies were too strong, and their veterans were performing steadily. It seemed the slim hope of winning the world championship now rested on ME.
【If Shock loses one more match, they’re out, right?】
【Yes, their points are at a severe disadvantage.】
【So China won’t be lifting that trophy again this time.】
【Why say that? There’s still Me., isn’t there?】
【Me. doesn’t stand a chance.】
At the base, the members of ME were conducting their final pre-tournament training.
Xuan Rui was organizing the flight details, along with the team members’ IDs and passports. Once the flight was confirmed, the bus on the other end would be scheduled accordingly. She collected everything in advance to avoid delays when checking in at the airport tomorrow.
“Brother Mianmian, are you streaming from the base today?”
Jing Mian removed one side of his headphones. He remembered Song Xianyang had pulled an all-nighter practicing the new map and needed to catch up on sleep. The young man replied, “No one’s home. I’ll stream from there.”
Song Xianyang put on his sleep mask, yawned, and drowsily slumped onto the reclining sofa chair. “Then I’ll nap out here for a bit.”
The new global tournament format had just been announced, featuring slight changes from previous years, this time adopting a knockout stage system. Teams that lost in the first four matches would be placed in the losers’ bracket. In the subsequent knockout matches, they could not afford a single loss; two consecutive defeats would inevitably lead to elimination.
Meanwhile, teams that successfully advanced, with their points ranking in the top two, would move on to compete against the future top four, also securing a precious margin for error.
However, AUB’s unexpected first-match loss, despite their “undefeated legend” reputation, served as a stark warning to the domestic teams.
The global tournament was more challenging, with opponents stronger than ever, each representing the elite teams from their respective countries. A sense of shared peril slowly crept into every member of ME.
The matches ahead would likely be tough.
By the time Jing Mian arrived home, night had yet to fall.
The sunset through the floor-to-ceiling windows grew increasingly silent and dazzling, casting its glow onto the floor. The light filtered through the pale glass, bathing the room in a soft hue.
The house was empty, and it was then that he remembered, Mr. Ren had an event to attend today and might return late.
Jing Mian lazily sprawled on the sofa, squinting his eyes. Before leaving, the man had reminded him that if he didn’t eat at the club, he should call Aunt Yu to come over and make dinner before returning home.
Jing Mian took out his phone, hesitated for a few seconds, then silently put it down again.
He didn’t feel like eating.
With the competition approaching, despite his usual calm demeanor, the matter concerning Shock had stirred a sense of urgency in the young player.
He had watched Mox’s live tournament broadcasts.
That much talked about newcomer, ZLE, had an impeccable playstyle, steady yet fierce, far from the “reckless aggression of a rookie” the domestic media had portrayed.
Mr. Ren would return after 11 p.m. tonight, marking the fourth evening in a row he’d come home late. Sometimes, Jing Mian waited for him, only to fall asleep on the living room sofa. When he woke up groggily, he’d find himself suspended in the air.
The man would carry him, the chill from outside already faded, and place him back on the bedroom bed.
His broad palm would brush against Jing Mian’s neck, cool but not uncomfortably so, pleasant even. Jing Mian would instinctively grip his husband’s wrist, his fair cheek unconsciously nuzzling against it.
Then, as the cool kiss pressed against his lips, the hand slipping beneath his pajamas felt only natural.
Jing Mian: “…”
Unconsciously, he realized—
He missed Mr. Ren terribly.
But if he couldn’t help missing him after such a short separation, did that mean they had unknowingly fallen into the throes of passionate love?
The moment this realization struck, the young man’s heart began pounding wildly.
This was no small matter.
Suddenly eager to distract himself, he decisively went upstairs and turned on the computer in the study. It was still early, a two-hour livestream would be the perfect way to pass the time while his husband was away.
After setting up the streaming equipment and putting on his headset, the sound of his own heartbeat and breathing grew clearer as he waited for the background music to start.
Then it occurred to him.
If he and his contract-married lover had fallen head over heels, maybe it wasn’t such a big deal after all.
Jing Mian entered the streaming channel and clicked start.
【Sheep’s livestream has begun.】
Though he’d started earlier than usual, viewers poured in quickly, their enthusiasm undiminished,
【No way, look what I stumbled upon!】
【MianMian’s streaming early today!!]】
【So early!】
【With this many people, I almost thought I was two hours late.】
【Sheep, look at me, I’ll fight for you!】
【Is this the last stream before the competition?】
【Yeah, our baby’s flying out tomorrow.】
Jing Mian gave a soft “Mm,” deftly clicking into random training mode and entering the matchmaking interface. “This is the last stream before the competition,” he said. “I’ll be taking a break afterward, not sure for how long.”
【Good luck in the matches!】
【ME’s gonna take the championship!!】
【AUB lost today, I’ve been depressed all day.】
【MianMian, are you at Brother’s place again tonight?】
【This study feels so unlike Sheep’s vibe.】
【+1, feels more like a guardian’s study.】
Jing Mian froze for a moment, his expression pausing briefly before he lowered his gaze. “Yes, he’s my guardian.”
Today’s shooting match was set on the Lighthouse map.
Due to its high difficulty, it didn’t appear frequently in major tournaments, making it one of the maps they practiced relatively less.
Sheep weaved through countless lighthouses, shooting while the tops of the towers lit up in response.
With his exceptionally steady recoil control training, it was easier to spot enemies in the deep blue, hazy environment. Snipers weren’t very effective here, the lighthouse beams created unavoidable interference unless you mastered their patterns.
As the second lighthouse illuminated, Jing Mian decisively raised his gun, the bullet piercing through an enemy’s skull.
【So cool!】
【Ahhhh!】
【Can’t imagine what a visual feast this would be at the global tournament】
【Those calling him cool, have you forgotten how your boy got mocked online so badly he still won’t take off his mask?】
【Fly out tomorrow, register in the player intro section the next day. International tournaments require full-face visibility in videos. Sheep, here’s my advice: if you’re ugly, just weld that mask to your face and say it’s semi-permanent】
【??】
【There’s a mad dog in the chat】
【Haters got no spine, lurking in streams like this】
The feel of a mechanical gaming keyboard paired with a desktop was ultimately smoother than huddling on the couch with a laptop.
Jing Mian’s stream ran slightly longer than usual today, yet he showed no signs of fatigue.
After winning the fourth training match with a [Win!] prompt, the young man kept his hands on the controls, about to queue again when his stomach let out an almost imperceptible growl.
【Baby’s hungry.】
【MianMian didn’t eat dinner?】
【Baby’s face is burning red】
【Sheep is too adorable, mommy wants to kiss you】
【Go! Eat! Now!!】
The cursor hovering over the matchmaking button froze.
Jing Mian pressed his lips together, suppressing the flush that had spread to his earlobes, and murmured, “That’s all for today’s stream.”
“See you after the global tournament.”
He clicked the end stream button but remained seated, his ears growing hotter by the second.
He should’ve asked Aunt Yu to come earlier.
The clock struck nine.
The young man spaced out for a moment before his gaze drifted to the corner where a cup of instant noodles sat.
He’d brought it back from the club in his backpack, thinking it might come in handy—and now it actually had.
Mr. Ren had warned him not to resort to instant noodles when home alone. At the time, he’d obediently nodded in understanding.
With Mr. Ren coming home late tonight, this was the perfect opportunity.
Jing Mian stood up, boiled water, tore open the packaging, added the noodles, and carefully opened each seasoning packet.
Then he hugged the cup, waiting for the water.
—The nearby stream camera silently captured it all.
The chat fell into dead silence.
Gradually, someone tentatively typed:
【?】
【??】
【Holy shit…】
【Uh, did MianMian forget to end the stream?】
【Seems… yes]
【I heard the clicking sound earlier, but maybe it didn’t fully close】
Soon, everything was ready. The boy poured in the steaming water, sealed the lid, and secured it with the fork.
Jing Mian returned to his streaming spot, slumping over the desk, his soft hair falling forward.
【What do we do? Can someone remind him?】
【What can we do? I’m watching with my own eyes, MianMian home alone!!】
【Ahhhh!】
【Eating noodles = taking off the mask】
【So nervous】
【Nervous +1】
【What a massive streaming mishap, my heart aches for Sheep】
【Entering the camera unprepared like this, even ordinary people wouldn’t be able to handle it. Wouldn’t being exposed like this lead to being mocked by the entire internet?】
Five minutes later.
The faint aroma drifted over as a cup of instant noodles was placed on the table. Jing Mian raised his hand, his fair fingers removing the black mask.
From that moment on.
The live stream fell into complete silence for over ten seconds.
…
Someone had to break the silence.
Finally, when the first comment appeared, it acted like a spark, inadvertently triggering a chain reaction.
And waking up all the players who had frozen in that moment.
【Holy shit…】
【Is that Sheep?】
【Why did it suddenly go quiet? Where is everyone?】
【Wait, my hands are shaking】
【He’s Sheep??】
【Oh my god oh my god oh my god help】
【MianMian wuwuwuwu】
【The real person?!】
【I’ve lost the ability to speak】
【What kind of godly looks is this!!】
【AHHHHHHHHHHH】
【So you could’ve relied on your face to make a living, but you chose to become a world champion with skill instead??】
The comments had reached a fever pitch.
Dozens of messages flooded in every second, climbing to 99+ at an indistinguishable speed. The Glory live stream had never seen such a spectacular scene before, with the system’s capacity barely holding on, nearly crashing.
Even so, the number of viewers continued to skyrocket.
The Sheep on camera was far from the tarnished image of the rumors, his light-colored pupils, extremely fair skin, and lips tinged with a warm flush made one’s heartbeat slow just from looking at him.
【How’s your face, Big Brother from earlier?】
【More than just hurt, it’s wrecked】
【Help, no one understands, the kid I’ve been a fan of for over two years is actually this good-looking AHHHH】
【I get it】
【Watching him quietly eat instant noodles, my mom heart is melting…】
【How can he be this well-behaved!】
…
A few seconds later, the faint sound of a lock turning came through the live stream.
The boy eating instant noodles paused, tilting his head toward the door. The slurping sound from earlier had masked the noise of the lock, making them nearly overlap.
He wasn’t sure if someone had come home.
Jing Mian instinctively glanced at the clock—9:10 p.m.
His expression froze for a few seconds before he seemed to relax.
He lowered his head and continued eating.
After another pause.
An unusual sound suddenly came from outside the study door.
—A light twist of the knob, completely unexpected, but this time it was extremely close, separated only by the door. Someone was indeed entering from outside.
This time, not just Jing Mian, but everyone in the live stream heard it.
Instantly, the stream pricked up its ears, falling into dead silence.
The boy on camera froze, a flicker of panic crossing his face, but it was too late. Just as he looked up, his eyes met the owner of the voice without warning.
…
“MianMian.”
The next second, a deep, cold male voice broke through the microphone. After a brief, wordless silence: “I told you, you can’t eat instant noodles when you’re home alone.”
Jing Mian was speechless: “Why are you back early…?”
Before he could finish, a tall figure scooped him up and carried him out of the camera’s view.