By Zephyria 
Both the players and the barrage in the live stream fell into an unspoken silence at this moment.
Faint dust drifted slowly under the light, and the audience seats were deathly quiet. People stared fixedly at the screen, utterly unable to tear their eyes away.
Just one step away from the red door, Sheep, the player dragged into the abyss by the puppet, left only a trail of blood in the game’s footage, a sight for the spectators.
Along with the splatter of blood as the player was torn apart, the sickening crunch of bones.
Yet it was more than enough to horrify.
Sheep’s health bar plummeted rapidly—
[21%]
[19%]
[15%]
[10%]
…
[0%]
Sheep’s avatar frame turned gray.
Without delay, the system issued its final notification before the match concluded:
[Player “ME.Sheep” has died.]
No surprises, no reversals, not even a sliver of hope for salvation.
The audience bore witness, with stark clarity and shock, to the fall of a player who had fought tooth and nail, only to perish inches from victory.
The light of the door, in the end, did not linger on the player who had given everything.
Any Glory player who had cleared this map knew, the colossal puppet that appeared in the final moments of the Puppet Factory stage was the ultimate boss of this round.
Against unarmed players, the sheer disparity in size and strength meant being torn apart was as effortless as the puppet lifting a finger.
Thus, within the game’s design, players who couldn’t fight back had only two choices: become puppets themselves, or flee. Escaping through the red door was the sole path to survival.
And for those caught, it meant being utterly defenseless.
A death sentence.
Yet now, though the spectators understood this perfectly, it seemed no one could accept the reality of it.
The game’s screen zoomed in, the surroundings blurring into darkness as the system slowly displayed its prompt. The glowing text was sharp and vivid, projected onto the massive screen at the venue:
,[AUB Victory!]
Shock’s remaining 8% health meant that even though he hadn’t moved from his spot, even though he hadn’t successfully exited the red door, he became the sole surviving player within its bounds.
Though he hadn’t made it through, his narrow advantage ultimately secured AUB Team’s victory in the finals!
At this moment, jets of white steam erupted from the vents as AUB’s players threw off their headsets and holographic gear, leaping to their feet. The stage lights bathed them in brilliance, and the audience erupted into thunderous cheers, wild and fervent.
AUB’s fans rose to their feet, shouting, jumping, waving flags emblazoned with the team’s logo from the corners, screaming AUB’s name.
Substitutes rushed onto the stage, joining the huddle of players as cheers roared on, so intense that even viewers through the live stream could feel the exhilaration and joy.
“AHHHHHHHHH!!!”
“We won! We won!!”
“Shock! Shock!”
“AUB is unstoppable!”
“AUB is unstoppable!!”
AUB’s banners cascaded down, replacing the blank backdrop of the arena. The team’s logo appeared in every corner of the stadium’s screens, a symbol of the champion’s glory and honor.
And in stark contrast to AUB’s triumph, there was Team ME on the other side of the stage.
Several members sat in their seats, their headsets removed and placed on the edge of the table. They lifted their heads slightly, gazing at the long, grand, and fervent arena before them, yet no one spoke or reacted for a long time.
Sheep’s expression remained unchanged.
The young man sat there, his lashes lifting slightly. The black mask covering his face made it impossible to discern his emotions.
Even a minute after the match ended, the live viewership showed no signs of decreasing, with comments flooding the screen:
[I said AUB would win before the match, but now that they’ve actually won, it feels different from what I initially expected…]
[Probably because this victory carries too many regrets.]
[I feel like crying.]
[Me too.]
[The dorm outside is going wild, but I can’t bring myself to be happy.]
[My heart feels so heavy.]
[They were so close.]
Breaking the chaotic noise in the venue were the voices of the commentators, who were speaking nonstop.
“What an exhilarating and spectacular match!”
“Let’s congratulate AUB!”
“The first Team in Glory’s national tournament history to win three championships!!”
“Congratulations!”
“Congratulations!!”
……
The commentators briefly recapped the match, but inevitably, the topic shifted to the unforgettable rookie player.
“The Factory of Dolls map has countless playstyles, but who would’ve thought two players would attempt high-difficulty strategies in the finals, and both succeeded.”
“Sheep was so close.”
“Indeed. As a rookie, this was Sheep’s debut in Glory’s national tournament. We’re grateful for the countless brilliant plays he delivered on the field. It’s a shame ME. narrowly missed the championship.”
“Just one step away.”
“Yeah.”
One commentator, who had been silent for a long time, finally spoke with regret in his voice:
“This rookie, who fought his way through countless obstacles,
ultimately couldn’t create his own legend.”
……
【But Sheep looks so calm.】
【I was about to say that!!】
【Hey, upstairs, MianMian is wearing a mask, how can you see his expression?】
【Do you need X-ray vision? You can tell just by looking at his eyes.】
【Right, not a single tear.】
【Look at Red Hair, Big Brother, even Mole… all the other players have red-rimmed eyes.】
【Even though he’s still a kid, I’m surprised, he’s such a composed and steady player.】
【Bullshit. Seeing this result, even a tough guy like me wants to cry.】
【Heartbroken +1.】
【I cried too.】
【+1, my hands are still shaking, and my feet are ice-cold.】
[Tonight will haunt me for years.】
【Exactly. How is this composure? More like he doesn’t give a damn about the match.】
【Only we fans are emotionally invested.】
【Typical of streamers, no sense of Team spirit or passion for victory. Win or lose, nothing affects him.】
Glory’s national finals broadcast shattered previous viewership records, reaching an unprecedented peak in recent tournament history.
The organizers watched the skyrocketing engagement, not even needing to buy trending hashtags, the thrilling finals had already climbed to the top three on the charts purely through organic hype.
Even passersby outside the e-sports circle couldn’t help but stop to watch the highlight reels, with netizens passionately discussing the event, so much so that it overshadowed other entertainment news:
【This is heartbreaking even for outsiders】
【Who is this masked young player? Someone get me his name, age, stats, and background in one minute! NOW!!】
【AUB won the championship twice before? That’s insane, successfully defending their title.】
【Never played Glory before, but after watching the finals, my hands are itching to try.】
【But Sheep was just one step away from the championship】
【My heart aches through the screen】
【Saw a hot take on the gaming forum saying Sheep was too calm, like he didn’t care about the match. I think the opposite is true. As an outsider, I can’t even accept this outcome, let alone Sheep, who personally experienced the championship slipping through his fingers.】
The e-sports arena is never short of regrets.
Despite the bitter defeat, time marched on mercilessly. The organizers dimmed the stage lights, preparing for the upcoming award ceremony.
Jing Mian felt a hand ruffle his hair, and then he was pulled into a tight embrace. His teammates held him close, offering comfort. Mole whispered:
“MianMian, you did your best.”
Song Xianyang added, “Brother Mianmian, even if we didn’t win the national championship, we still have the global tournament ahead.”
Red Hair chimed in, “Yeah, second place is still amazing!”
“We’ll fight again next year.”
Song Xianyang, participating in such a national event for the first time, asked curiously, “If the champion’s trophy is gold, does that mean ours is silver?”
Red Hair hesitated before replying, “Second place only gets medals, no trophy.”
Countless people wanted Shock to defend their title and stand once more on that lofty, exhilarating podium. But just as many hoped to see Sheep lift the trophy, using Glory to wash away the hardships of his journey.
Yet that dazzling golden rain fell for only one Team.
After the third-place winners took the stage, Me’s members stepped up to receive their awards before the final champions. They donned their medals under the glare of countless live cameras and flashing lights. As a once-faded veteran Team that had injected fresh blood in just a few months, they now stood as the runners-up of the Glory National Finals.
The third and second-place winners moved to one side of the podium after receiving their awards.
Then, under the most magnificent and anticipated spotlight, AUB’s members took the stage.
Jing Mian watched quietly.
The live broadcast deliberately panned its camera toward Sheep, lingering on the young man’s face.
The shimmering golden rain reflected in Sheep’s pupils as the massive trophy, like wings, was presented to AUB’s captain amidst the radiant downpour.
As the host’s voice crescendoed, AUB’s members stood at the center of the screen. Under the glittering golden rain, they raised the trophy high, jumping and shouting AUB’s name before the eyes of millions.
And so, the National Finals came to a close.
After the awards ceremony, the audience filed out in an orderly manner, while the players prepared for post-match interviews.
Under the cameras and microphones, Red Hair’s eyes reddened as he said, “If we’re fortunate enough to qualify for the global tournament, I hope we’ll be even stronger than we are now.”
After the interview, everyone followed Xuan Cheng to the dinner gathering as originally planned. They returned to the hotel late after finishing their meal.
The hotel reservation was set to check out at noon the next day, so the team members could choose to stay overnight or go home on their own.
Before parting ways, Xuan Cheng seemed to remember something.
He retrieved a bag from his room, opened it, and revealed a stack of black caps inside.
Picking one up, he showed the ME team logo printed on it.
Xuan Cheng said, “The seller and I designed these together. Nothing fancy, just our team logo.” He joked, “You can wear them when you want to look cool.”
The members unanimously took the plain black caps, with the simple ME logo sitting atop the brim—hardly any design to speak of.
While everyone teased the captain about his taste, each of them still took one and put it on.
Jing Mian adjusted his cap. As his teammates chattered noisily in the hallway, he leaned against the doorframe, lowered his gaze, and quietly opened his phone.
The light gradually illuminated the young man’s lashes.
At the top of his contacts list was “Husband.”
He typed a message:
,[It’s over.]
Within just over ten seconds, a reply popped up.
,[I’ll come pick you up.]
His husband didn’t ask about the match results.
Perhaps their finals outcome had already spread across major platforms, and even without asking, he might have already seen it himself.
Jing Mian stared at the words for a long moment before raising his fingers to type carefully:
,[No rush, I still need to pack.]
With that, he slipped his phone back into his pocket.
Jing Mian found his key card and entered his room. He hadn’t brought much when he came, his husband had packed for him, and everything fit into just one backpack.
But it would still take some time for his husband to arrive. Jing Mian lay on the bed for a while, playing Candy Crush while waiting for a reply.
Soon, however, Xuan Cheng called him, asking if he knew where Cen Xian was.
Jing Mian hadn’t seen Cen Xian since the post-match interview and said he didn’t know. He asked Xuan Cheng what was wrong.
Xuan Cheng replied, “I lent him a brand-new pair of noise-canceling earplugs the other day. I need them tonight, Xiao Jingzi snores.”
Jing Mian sat up, phone in hand. “We’re close by. I’ll go ask at his room.”
“Alright, just have him bring them over if you find him.”
After hanging up, Jing Mian recalled that Cen Xian’s room was in the same hallway as his, just four or five doors down.
He checked the group chat for the room numbers and stopped in front of “3025.”
Just as he raised his hand to knock, he noticed the door was slightly ajar.
Not fully closed.
Hesitating for a second, he knocked and pushed the door open a crack.
At that moment, he heard an odd sound, faint but unmistakably intense.
A sliver of light fell into his vision. Jing Mian froze as his gaze landed on a pale hand, slightly curled, its wrist pinned against the wall by a much larger, darker hand, veins faintly visible under the skin.
The wall’s engraved patterns stretched downward from the pressure.
The sight was jarring.
From the sounds, Jing Mian realized someone had another person pressed against the wall by the door, kissing them deeply.
On the carpeted floor, an ME-logo cap lay discarded, crumpled in the disarray.
Jing Mian recognized that the one being kissed was Brother Cen Xian.
However, before the young man could fully process his shock, in that split second, he also recognized the other person—
It was Shock.
The sound of the door opening seemed to startle the two inside. The grip on his wrist loosened, leaving behind faint red marks where it had been held.
All three froze.
After a few seconds of locking eyes with the two, Jing Mian pressed his lips together and silently raised his hand.
He tugged his cap downward until it completely covered his eyes.
Then, he retracted the foot that had been about to step inside, turned around, and attempted to exit the scene without a trace.
But before he could successfully carry out this plan, Cen Xian grabbed his arm. “MianMian.”
By the time Jing Mian was pulled into the room and seated on the edge of the bed, he was still dazed.
Cen Xian’s eyes were tinged red at the corners, his tear mole strikingly pronounced, yet it didn’t stop him from raising his hand and delivering a sharp slap to Shock’s face.
Jing Mian heard Cen Xian say, “You scared our kid.”
Jing Mian: “…”
He lowered his head, the brim of his cap shielding his lashes.
Shock didn’t seem bothered. “He’s wearing a ring, isn’t he married? He’s probably seen worse than us—”
Cen Xian crouched down, ignoring Shock, and looked at Jing Mian seriously. “I’m sorry.”
“Did it scare you?”
Jing Mian shook his head slightly.
Rather than being scared, he was more stunned and embarrassed.
The two stood before him on either side of the bed, one crouching, the other with arms crossed, both looking down at him.
…As if coaxing a child.
Jing Mian swallowed silently and spoke softly, “Can I leave?”
Cen Xian: “…Of course.”
Jing Mian didn’t forget his mission. “And Brother Xuan Cheng’s earplugs.”
Cen Xian grabbed the earplugs from the nightstand and handed them to Jing Mian.
He asked, “Are you okay?”
The young man realized that, though Cen Xian didn’t say it outright, the question didn’t seem to refer to the scene he had just stumbled upon.
But rather, the finals that had just ended.
Jing Mian paused slightly. The cool air seeped into his skin, and though his expression remained unchanged, his voice came out slightly hoarse. “Yeah.”
Shock was silent for a few seconds before speaking to the boy. “Sorry for what I said before.”
His voice was deeper than expected, a contrast to the usual impression people had of Shock. He wore a serious expression as he said to Jing Mian, “Sheep, you’re a respectable opponent.”
“Even though our Teams aren’t in the same division, I look forward to facing you in the next playoffs.”
Jing Mian’s pupils trembled slightly.
He pressed his lips together and nodded.
The night deepened.
A black car slowly pulled up beside the esports stadium.
The venue was massive, its surrounding pedestrian areas stretching all the way to the commercial district’s intersection, bordered by neat curbs and steps.
Most ticketed spectators and staff had already left, leaving only the glow from the floor-to-ceiling windows as a faint light source in the late-night darkness.
When Jing Mian stepped out of the stadium with his backpack, the boy in his cap looked up and immediately spotted Mr. Ren leaning against the side of the car.
The night outlined the man’s tall, striking figure, casting a dim shadow on the ground untouched by moonlight.
Jing Mian’s footsteps faltered.
Just as his gaze met the man’s.
The young man quickened his pace slightly, then gradually slowed as he drew near, because the man had already stood up and was walking toward him.
Jing Mian pressed his lips together tightly.
“Have you been waiting long?”
“No.”
The man lifted his backpack, and Jing Mian felt the weight ease from his shoulders as the straps slid off and into the other’s grasp.
“Why didn’t you wear a thicker coat?”
Jing Mian explained, “The team jacket is warm enough.”
“Did you eat dinner?”
Jing Mian nodded. “Yeah, we had a team meal.”
…
None of their conversation had anything to do with the match.
After their brief exchange, Jing Mian moved to follow the man into the car, but his path was suddenly blocked. His fingers stiffened slightly.
“Why didn’t you take off your cap?”
The man’s voice was low, close to him.
Jing Mian had kept his ME team cap on the entire time. With the brim shielding his face, even Mr. Ren, standing right in front of him, couldn’t clearly see the boy’s expression.
“…”
Jing Mian’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
Just as he reached for the car door, his hand was caught, and his waist was pulled in. At the same time, Jing Mian heard the sudden, rapid pounding of his own heartbeat.
The next second.
Mr. Ren lifted the boy’s cap.
Pale moonlight spilled down, soft and soundless as it fell.
…
The man’s pupils constricted slightly.
Beneath the brim, Jing Mian’s face was flushed and damp with tears. Large droplets rolled down his cheeks, gathering at his jawline.
Plop.
One of them landed on the man’s hand.