AFM 110

Jing Mian stood frozen in place.

The world seemed to float in a hazy echo.

Everything around him appeared suspended, the noise from the private room sealed away. He could hear only his own breathing, slow, distant, his exhales burning hot.

His mind was blank.

It took him a long time to find his voice again: “…How?”

The moment he spoke, he realized his throat had gone dry, his words hoarse.

“How could it be you?”

The shock was overwhelming, overturning everything he had ever known in an instant. Jing Mian couldn’t react, his trembling gaze tracing the man’s cold, striking features, those pale eyes overlapping with the ones in his memory.

Familiar, yet foreign.

As Mr. Ren stepped closer, the shifting light cast shadows across his figure, obscuring his outline yet sharpening the angles of his face. “From the very beginning, there was never any other possibility,” he murmured.

“MianMian, it had to be me.”

“It could only be me.”

A shiver ran through him.

His fingers clenched around his phone, knuckles whitening.

In this world, he was probably the last person who would ever connect his husband with Ash.

After all, these two seemingly unrelated figures had shaped his life, both the fleeting and the enduring parts of it.

Ash, who had just lowered his mask to reveal his face, carried a scent that was achingly familiar and comforting to the boy. He knew Jing Mian loved blueberry juice, knew he couldn’t stand ice-cold beer. And right before his eyes, he had answered the call Jing Mian made to his husband.

Countless disjointed possibilities had once swirled in his mind, but now, they all shattered.

Even the subconscious denial had no escape.

Panic surged in its place.

Ash was the undisputed legend of Glory.

His husband had founded ME.

His husband was Ash.

…

At some point, his phone screen had gone dark. Suddenly remembering something, he looked up, only to find the man already standing unbearably close. His fingers trembled as he asked, “Months ago, when Ash suddenly logged in without warning and challenged Greek to a PK…”

“It was because of you.”

The man lowered his lashes, his voice quiet. “Someone was bullying you.”

“Ash was the most efficient solution.”

…

Jing Mian pressed his lips together.

His heartbeat roared in his ears.

With just a corner of the past tugged loose, memories rushed forth like scattered stars, as if everything suddenly made sense. His throat moved slightly. “That day in the café, when the fake Ash met me… That night…”

“The person you reached out to was also me.”

Jing Mian didn’t voice the next question.

Of course he hadn’t forgotten, after that, he had matched with Ash in a game. It had been the most exhilarating night of his life. So even back then, it had been…

As if sensing his thoughts, the man murmured, “It was always me.”

No further confirmation was needed.

His mind still reeled from the storm, as if unable to reconcile Mr. Ren with Ash.

“Did you always know about Sheep?”

“I did.”

Leaning back against the wall, Jing Mian finally regained some strength. He noticed his husband was wearing clothes he’d never seen before, his tone both unfamiliar and intimately known. The man said softly, “Not only did I know, Sheep was the reason I got involved with Glory in the first place.”

Jing Mian’s pupils slowly constricted.

The man was speaking the most romantic words in the world, in the most understated tone.

“All of Ash’s inexplicable motives were because of Sheep.”

The brother who grew up with him, the lover he married by arrangement, the unwavering faith that ran through his youth, all of it turned out to be the same person.

Which meant—

He had actually married Ash?

The boy’s forehead slowly burned as he felt utterly lost.

In the deserted corner of the hallway, their conversation was hidden in the dim light, yet every word rang clear.

Jing Mian looked up, stammering as he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me all this time?”

…

The other man fell silent for a few seconds.

Just as Jing Mian thought he wouldn’t get an answer, he heard Ren Xingwan speak.

“Because I was greedy.”

Under the boy’s puzzled gaze, Ren Xingwan continued, “I didn’t just want you to like me.”

“I wanted to be your first choice too.”

“I didn’t want Ash’s identity to influence your answer.” The man lowered his eyes, his voice deeper this time, almost hushed. “That would’ve been no different from cheating.”

“…”

A look of surprise flickered across Jing Mian’s face.

In that instant, everything suddenly made sense.

All the clues fell into place.

So, Husband had kept everything hidden until that night in the rental apartment, when he heard Jing Mian’s confession, only then revealing the gaming identity he had always idolized.

What if Jing Mian had never confessed his feelings?

Then Mr. Ren would have kept his secret identity tightly concealed.

…

Jing Mian lowered his head.

He’s so adorable.

This is the real foul play, Husband.

The boy suddenly felt grateful that he had mustered the courage to speak up back then. Not only had he responded to those feelings, but he had also dispelled the last of the man’s unease and doubts.

They stood in silence for a few seconds before Ash suddenly lowered his gaze and reached out, his thumb brushing against the boy’s flushed cheek. “Just like your reaction right now.”

Jing Mian swallowed lightly.

No one could stay calm in a situation like this.

Softly, he murmured, “Husband.”

“Whether I knew or not, my answer wouldn’t have changed.”

He thought his words were romantic enough, but Mr. Ren’s attention was elsewhere. Bluntly, he asked, “Then why have you been avoiding eye contact?”

Jing Mian pressed his lips together, slightly embarrassed, and explained, “Maybe it’s just… hard to believe.”

Mr. Ren’s hand slid down, gripping the boy’s wrist. Before Jing Mian could react, his own hand was pressed against the man’s cheeks, cool to the touch, gradually warming as his palm brushed against the side of his face, his ear. “Does this feel more real now?”

Jing Mian’s ears burned hotter.

His heartbeat was completely erratic.

Who said Mr. Ren didn’t know how?

Mr. Ren knew exactly what he was doing.

Pinned against the corner of the wall, Jing Mian watched as Ash lowered his dark, distinct eyes, the light flickering faintly behind his long, delicate lashes.

The greatest surprise in the world could be nothing else.

The man’s voice was low. “I’m your husband.”

“Your brother.”

The hand around his wrist moved forward, pulling the boy’s arm tighter. He wrapped his arms around Mr. Ren’s neck, his lips soon meeting the other’s, breaths mingling, soft and scorching.

“And I’m also your Ash.”