By Zephyria 
That evening.
Ash and Sheep left the gathering early.
As the year drew to a close and Christmas approached, the maple trees and facilities were adorned with festive decorations. The tree-lined path outside the window was illuminated, sparkling like a brilliant, endless night.
Looking down from the floor-to-ceiling window, it felt like a small, enchanting world of its own.
The young man was pressed against the entryway, bending down for a kiss when Ash cornered him in that spot, leaving him unable to move. He had no choice but to wrap his arms around the other’s neck to keep himself from falling.
Then, he was lifted up in return.
His back met the cold glass of the window, and Jing Mian shivered slightly, vaguely noticing the changes outside, the quiet, gentle night now painted with holiday hues, making everything feel warm and touching.
But soon, he could no longer spare a thought for the scenery.
The arms holding him were slightly cool, yet the undeniable connection between them left his entire body burning. Even a moment’s distraction was quickly noticed, and the rarely attempted position pinned him deep and hard.
Trembling, tears continuously dripped onto the other’s shoulders, but they didn’t earn him any mercy. He could only sway uncontrollably, rising and falling.
With his toes curling and flushed red, the young man suddenly remembered a question he had never gotten the chance to ask since joining the club.
“Husband.”
“Hmm?”
When Jing Mian was carried out of the bathroom, he was too exhausted to lift a finger. After a moment’s thought, he asked softly, “When you founded the club back then… why did you name it ME?”
Team names often carried deeper meanings, abbreviations, codenames. Though ME was concise and striking, ever since learning that his husband had been the one to establish the club, Jing Mian had been curious.
But shortly after asking, his lashes fluttered, and his eyelids grew heavy, drowsiness pulling him under.
The man leaned down, pressing a light kiss to the young man’s damp nose bridge, and answered in a deep voice:
“Because you are my moon.”
The next morning.
Jing Mian forced himself out of bed to wash up.
Toothpaste foamed in his mouth, the refreshing taste spreading, but his legs trembled slightly. Without a word, he silently braced himself against the sink to steady himself.
Husband was downstairs, he had heard the sound of running water earlier, along with the faint clatter of a pan. The man was probably making breakfast.
Because they had agreed in advance that Jing Mian had pre-match training today, they had only done it once. Even so, the young man still felt overwhelmed.
Even now, it didn’t feel real.
His husband was Ash.
Ash was his lover.
Jing Mian silently set down his toothbrush, rinsed it, and began washing his face.
The cold winter water was quite effective at clearing one’s mind.
After breakfast, bundled up in a hat and scarf, Jing Mian was sent off to the base, warm and snug. Passing by a fire safety mirror, he realized he looked like a neatly wrapped rice dumpling.
With the global tournament approaching, the tense atmosphere at the base grew increasingly palpable, affecting every player indirectly.
[Only a few hours left until Christmas Eve!]
[Merry Christmas Eve, little one!]
[Merry Christmas Eve!]
[Did MianMian eat an apple?]
Jing Mian wasn’t particularly sensitive to holidays, only remembering when reminded by the chat. Earlier, passing by small roadside shops, he had seen tables lined with colorful paper-wrapped “peace apples.”
“Merry Christmas Eve,” he said.
Then added, “Haven’t eaten the apple yet.”
Sheep entered the arena. Since it was a practice round specifically for map training, it wouldn’t count toward rankings. The map was straightforward with minimal cover, and the positions were extremely tight. Sheep swiftly aimed at the earthen ruins as bullets raced toward moving enemies, one headshot after another.
[So slick!]
[Is that flick speed even human?]
[His form is rock solid today]
Sheep ended his stream early that night.
Jing Mian quietly put on his jacket and left the club.
Though the base wasn’t in the city center, there was a high school nearby, so festive decorations were everywhere. Jing Mian walked along the street until he reached a small shop with neatly arranged apple bouquets on a table outside.
The young man thought for a moment before buying a few sheets of decorative wrapping paper.
Next, he headed to a fruit stand.
In the end, he washed the apples he bought and clumsily wrapped a few into bouquets. The patterns weren’t particularly refined—no matter how he looked at them, they paled in comparison to the ones sold in stores.
Jing Mian distributed the apples to the club members, keeping only the most beautifully wrapped one for himself.
There was someone he wanted to give it to.
Xuan Cheng bit into his apple, savoring its crisp sweetness, and seemed surprised when Jing Mian asked him a question. “The origin of ME.’s name?”
The young man nodded.
Red Hair crunched into his apple. “Isn’t it just ‘me’?”
Jing Mian hesitated before pressing, “No other meaning?”
“There is,” Xuan Cheng said, as if straining his memory. “I think it came from a foreign poem.”
Jing Mian blinked. “A foreign poem?”
That was completely unexpected.
“Don’t remember the details,” Xuan Cheng admitted. “Just a vague impression. Back then, trademark registration was strict, and since it was such a common name with high overlap rates, the logo had to include the full name underneath.”
“Something… about the moon, I think.”
Jing Mian froze.
His heart skipped a beat.
He remembered Mr. Ren saying something similar last night.
He Jing perked up with interest. “What moon?”
“Captain, can you dig up the old logo? Show us.”
Xuan Cheng tossed the apple core aside and wiped his hands. “Sure, wait here.”
After two hours of intermittent searching, the captain came up empty-handed.
When he turned around, his two teammates had already returned to their computers, silently resuming training.
Xuan Cheng, who had wasted his efforts: “…”
Kids these days had the attention span of goldfish, less than seven seconds.
That night, when Jing Mian returned home, Mr. Ren still hadn’t come back.
The man’s schedule had been packed the past few days, and the sound of the door unlocking never came before 11 p.m.
So even after returning from the base, Jing Mian would spend two or three hours alone at home. Sometimes he streamed, sometimes watched replays of past global tournaments, and sometimes curled up on the living room couch to nap.
But for the first time in a long while, he stepped into Mr. Ren’s study and picked up a book to read.
Mostly foreign classics.
Some were translated, some weren’t, but Jing Mian went through them all, flipping through anything that caught his eye.
If he found something interesting, he’d read intently for dozens of minutes, engrossed. If it was incomprehensible or dull, he’d still skim the remaining pages before closing the book.
Until he found the one he liked best.
The narrative unfolds against the backdrop of war in a foreign land, where the protagonist searches for their missing lover, leaving their homeland behind and wandering adrift. Upon finally returning home, they find only ruins, with ashes swirling in the air.
Though the page count isn’t extensive, the weight of the story is still staggering. Jing Mian would unknowingly read late into the night, even forgetting his original purpose—to uncover the origin of Team “Me.”
By the third day, the story finally neared its end.
He saw the protagonist return to their homeland once more, a full moon rising in the sky as their lover appeared in the distance, the dust settling.
Just as he was about to turn to the final page, the sound of the door lock clicked.
Jing Mian looked up and realized it was already eleven.
Placing the book on the corner of the desk, he slipped on his slippers and went downstairs.
The hum of the air conditioner drifted in, lifting a slightly curled corner of the page.
The last page turned, revealing the story’s conclusion, underlined by the book’s owner—
Ash dissipated.
The ruins faded away.
Moon emerges.
The moon appeared.
You are radiance in the ashes.
You are the glimmer within the ashes.