By Zephyria 
Like fingers lifting from piano keys.
The lingering resonance of black and white notes gradually faded into silence, leaving behind a room so quiet it felt almost stifling.
Though the man’s voice wasn’t particularly striking—easily drowned out in the surrounding noise—it didn’t stop the nearby Team members from directing at least some of their attention toward Ren Congmian.
Red Hair’s pupils trembled with shock.
He sat frozen for a long moment, so stunned that his voice faltered for several seconds before he managed to stammer out, “So… you’re MianMian’s husband?”
“Mn.”
“The lunchboxes he brings every noon… you made them?”
“Yes.”
“And the person who’s been picking him up all this time was also…”
“Also me.”
…
The room grew even quieter.
Unlike the reactions of ordinary fans or passersby encountering a top-tier celebrity, beyond sheer astonishment, the first response from these young players was near speechlessness.
Their Team’s beloved little mascot—whose husband’s very existence had often been questioned—was actually Ren Congmian?
Ren. Cong. Mian?!
What kind of imagination would it take to connect these two together?
…
No wonder Ren Congmian had exposed his identity in public for Sheep’s sake.
No wonder MianMian, though always open with them, rarely spoke about his lover.
No wonder MianMian lived in that famous Maple Leaf residence.
Looking back now, all the clues seemed to fall into place.
Even so, the members remained steeped in shock. After a long silence, they still hadn’t fully recovered.
Jing Mian slowly picked up his blueberry juice.
Hands trembling, he took only a small sip.
The ticking of the wall clock was drowned out by the gradually rising chatter.
No one even noticed when the room had returned to its usual clamor.
Jing Mian barely touched his food. Glancing sideways, he quietly noted that Mr. Ren hadn’t eaten much either.
As the gathering neared its end, Xuan Rui approached Jing Mian and leaned down slightly, lowering her voice. “MianMian, are you heading back with Mr. Ren later?”
Jing Mian paused, then nodded. “Why do you ask?”
“Nothing much. It’s just… Mr. Ren had some alcohol, right?” Xuan Rui smiled gently. “We have a team bus coming soon, and it passes by Maple Leaf. Would you like to hitch a ride?”
Jing Mian suddenly understood.
Mr. Ren had indeed drunk his share earlier.
Waiting for their driver would take a while.
After checking with the man—who didn’t mind taking the bus—Jing Mian called their chauffeur, sending their location via WeChat so the car could be retrieved later.
The night grew deeper.
A cool breeze enveloped the lush trees and asphalt roads, under a serene and captivating moonlight.
The city remained vibrant and aglow.
The bus slowly pulled up near the esports arena.
Once aboard, Jing Mian effortlessly found his usual spot—the second-to-last row by the window.
The Team traveled often, and this seat was ideal: less prone to motion sickness, and unless it was a post-finals victory celebration, the players rarely crowded the back for rowdy festivities. Plus, the wide windowsill perfectly framed the nightscape reflected in his eyes.
Except this time,
his lover sat beside him.
Mr. Ren’s family background and profession meant that the man had little reason to ride on a bus carrying esports players under normal circumstances. So this was likely not only his first time but also probably his last.
Jing Mian hugged his backpack as the bus moved smoothly, the air conditioning emitting a pleasantly cool breeze that made his eyelids feel heavy.
“Sleepy?”
Mr. Ren’s voice asked.
Jing Mian answered softly, “No.”
The faint, tender lilt in his voice made the listener’s gaze deepen, the scattered shadows darker than the night.
“If you’re sleepy, you can lean on me and rest for a while.”
Mr. Ren’s voice was slightly deep as he spoke.
His tone was unreadable.
Jing Mian pressed his lips together.
He hesitated, silently realizing that using Mr. Ren’s shoulder as a pillow might not be appropriate.
The boy said, “No need, thank you, Husband.”
Ren Xingwan didn’t respond.
Ten minutes later.
Jing Mian’s fingers slipped from the edge of his backpack strap, resting against the man’s thigh. The boy’s eyelids relaxed, drowsy and soft.
As if he had fallen deeply asleep.
Strands of his hair brushed against the man’s shoulder, tangling lightly with the folds of his collar.
Ren Xingwan lowered his gaze.
He watched Jing Mian silently, as if he had been doing so for a long time. The moonlight was equally still and soundless, until the man reached out and covered Jing Mian’s hand.
His fingertips pressed against Jing Mian’s palm, and with his movement, the boy’s slender, pale hand was lifted bit by bit.
“Jing Mian.”
Ren Xingwan called his name.
Jing Mian didn’t respond.
His fingers remained soft.
Interlacing their fingers, Ren Xingwan’s knuckles brushed against the boy’s ring finger—where the ring shimmered brilliantly in the night, its outline gentle and moving.
……
“You only call me Brother when you’re flustered.”
The man’s voice was magnetic, deep, almost inaudible.
Lost in the clamor of passing traffic.
The bus slowly came to a stop.
Tonight, the lingering excitement among the players had been replaced by shock at the appearance of Jing Mian’s lover. So when Maple arrived, aside from the few players who had fallen asleep, the remaining team members in their jerseys all got off to see them off.
Chen Xi was among them.
She watched as Ren Congmian took off his coat and draped it over their young player.
Though the man’s expression remained indifferent, his aura so cold it made one’s heart race, his movements were as natural as flowing water. His broad, pale palm rested on the boy’s shoulder, pulling him close.
Ever since that unexpected moment on the stage tonight, a bold speculation had surfaced in her mind, lingering stubbornly.
The key was, Chen Xi had a faint suspicion—
This truth might be something even Jing Mian himself didn’t know.
But her intuition had never been wrong before.
So this inexplicable thought that had popped into her mind, despite having little evidence, inevitably made her heart flutter with restless excitement.
According to previous rumors, that man often played games with Sheep, and even the nickname “MianMian” had spread from his lips. But later, the two went their separate ways—the man went abroad, and this unfulfilled “be” left countless players sighing in regret.
After all, the two who had once duo-queued were now like strangers.
And in the near future, they might even face each other in the national tournament.
If they were long-lost rivals on stage but secretly wore wedding rings as husbands in private…
If Ren Congmian really was…
Then such a story of reconciliation would be far too romantic and explosive.
Jing Mian bowed slightly, bidding them farewell.
Not only to thank tonight, but also his teammates who silently accompanied him until the very end during the first match.
As the two turned to leave, Chen Xi’s throat tightened, and she suddenly called out to Ren Congmian, quickly stepping in front of him. Her voice softened slightly: “Sorry, may I ask a presumptuous question?”
“Perhaps… does Mr. Ren also play Glory?”
Jing Mian’s heart skipped a beat.
Though there was no particular reason.
Given Mr. Ren’s personality, if he had no connection to Jing Mian, he probably wouldn’t even be interested in what Glory was, let alone immerse himself in the game.
Though the question seemed out of place, Jing Mian noticed his husband pause.
The hand resting on his shoulder subtly slid down, settling around Jing Mian’s waist beneath the black overcoat.
Expressionless, Mr. Ren simply replied, “Why do you ask?”
Chen Xi saw that the man hadn’t answered her directly—
He hadn’t even acknowledged the question.
She swallowed slightly.
…
No way.
Could it really be?
Does Jing Mian know??
Or does MianMian actually know who Mr. Ren is but has kept it from them due to some concern about his identity?
The growing suspicion in her chest intensified, stirring her increasingly erratic heartbeat.
It seemed that after tonight, there would be no way to confirm it.
As if compelled by some unseen force, she steeled herself and asked:
“Are you Dawn?”
…
Jing Mian froze.
Ren Xingwan looked down at her. Only when Jing Mian faintly sensed the temperature around them drop slightly did he hear the man speak coldly:
“I’m not.”