Yan Yibing played games all day, causing a severe headache. As his performance worsened and his concentration faded, he grew increasingly restless, breaking out in cold sweats.
In the end, he decided to rip off the already ineffective ice pack, vigorously rubbing his temples.
Coincidentally, at that moment, the housekeeper knocked on the door.
“I made some egg and minced meat porridge for you, Bing Bing; it’s in the pot. Later, Han Mo said he’d come to make red bean dumpling soup.”
Yan Yibing, propping his elbow on the table, massaging his temples, asked with his head turned, “When did he say that?”
Auntie replied, “Just now. Han Mo called several times, and seeing you practicing so diligently, I didn’t want to disturb you, so I answered for you.”
Yan Yibing looked around for his phone and realized it wasn’t nearby.
It dawned on him that he left it on the dining table when he went to the kitchen to get warm water at noon.
He paused, “He called many times?”
That Little Beast wouldn’t be angry because he didn’t answer all this time, right?
“About five or six. It’s also because of your nickname that was a bit…” Auntie smiled shyly, “I was hesitant to answer initially, but when I did, I realized it was him.”
Yan Yibing licked his lips, feeling awkward, “My nickname… what did you say?”
“That young man seemed quite aloof, but he’s actually quite talkative in private. He mentioned that you both like to give each other nicknames. He said he calls you ‘no conscience,’ and I told him that your nickname for him is ‘Little Beast.'” The housekeeper covered her mouth shyly, as if feeling that uttering such words was quite inappropriate, “Let’s not talk about it. I need to go home to see my grandson.”
Yan Yibing: “…”
He didn’t care whether Han Mo thought he had no conscience or not, but now Han Mo knew he referred to him as Little Beast.
Damn.
Yan Yibing felt his scalp tingling.
Little Beast is truly a beast, but he probably wouldn’t appreciate this literally fitting nickname.
As the housekeeper left, Yan Yibing considered whether to lock Han Mo out.
Ideals are beautiful, but reality is harsh.
When Auntie was putting on her shoes to leave, Han Mo happened to knock on the door. The two smoothly exchanged, giving him no chance to intervene.
Just as Yan Yibing dragged himself to the stairwell, Han Mo was already bidding farewell to Auntie.
Yan Yibing: “…”
He glanced over, turned around, and prepared to go back to his room.
Han Mo casually said, “Master, where should I put the milk?”
Yan Yibing could only halt his steps and slowly come down, “In the basement storage cabinet. I’ll do it.”
Han Mo lifted the milk crate and handed the small dumplings to Yan Yibing, “The milk is too heavy. Put this in the fridge; it might crack if boiled directly after thawing.”
“Okay.” Yan Yibing held the small dumplings, feeling the pleasant chill.
He opened the fridge and stuffed them into the refrigerated section.
While closing the fridge, he observed Han Mo from the corner of his eye.
Han Mo’s expression remained unchanged, his eyes slightly downcast, facial muscles relaxed, with only his hair showed signs of dampness due to the hot weather.
Han Mo’s breathing was steady, sleeves rolled up, naturally carrying the milk to the basement. It seemed like he wasn’t angry at all.
Could it be that he himself also fully accepts the title of “Little Beast”?
The layout of the villas in the community is similar, and without Yan Yibing’s guidance, Han Mo knows where the storage cabinets are.
Compared to his own home, Yan Yibing’s family makes excellent use of the basement.
In addition to the storage cabinets that come with the villa, Mama Yan seems to have added another cabinet.
He’s not sure which one it is.
After a moment’s hesitation, Han Mo still opened the built-in cabinet in the villa.
Glancing inside, he noticed piles of old items that had accumulated over a long time.
An ancient Digimon toy, yoyos, remote-controlled cars, rollerblades in a bag, a dusty skateboard, and a worn-out tennis racket, along with the once-popular pogo stick from over a decade ago.
It seems these are all things Yan Yibing used when he was a child.
Mama Yan can’t bear to throw them away, preserving these memories.
As Han Mo looked at them, his gaze softened, his lips curling into a gentle smile.
He picked up the Digimon toy and pressed the buttons, but it had long run out of battery.
Yan Yibing was six years older than him, and by the time Han Mo started watching anime and learned about these little toys, the once popular toys were already out of production.
Of course, his childhood passed quickly.
From being obsessed with small toys and cartoons to never touching them again, it seemed to happen in an instant.
He measured the size of the rollerblades with his hand.
It’s less than a palm’s length.
This must be something Yan Yibing played with when he was four or five years old.
At that time, he hadn’t even been born yet.
He imagines what his master looked like as a child in his mind.
Surely very beautiful too.
With fair skin, almond-shaped eyes that are watery and bright, jet-black hair, and lips with a rosy tint, he must have looked clever and obedient.
However, it’s better now.
Now he can hug and kiss him.
After admiring the items, Han Mo prepared to close the door.
In the moment just before the light disappears, he catches sight of an inconspicuous transparent box placed in the corner.
He gave it another look, and then, the smile in his eyes dissipated.
On the box, it’s written—
Baby A-Yi’s Love Letter Box.
Through the transparent box, one could see various colorful postcards, heart-shaped envelopes, paper cranes symbolizing love, and starry bottles inside.
Some are straightforward, written directly on postcards in large fonts.
【Yan Yibing, will you be my boyfriend? I love you.】
Quite gentle and affectionate indeed.
He kept all these love letters throughout these years.
Thinking about the past years when he wasn’t there, and Yan Yibing seriously received other people’s love letters, returning home to consider whether to be together or not, made Han Mo’s chest ache.
He places the milk in the newly installed cabinet and goes upstairs.
Yan Yibing was just unscrewing a yogurt drink.
With his mouth unable to open wide, he sipped the yogurt in small amounts, unable to control the pace, causing it to dribble from the corner of his lips, hastily using his tongue to lick it.
Han Mo’s eyes darken, and he says in a low voice, “I’m sweaty; I’ll go back to take a bath and change clothes first. Remember to check your temperature.”
“Okay,” Yan Yibing leans against the refrigerator, nodding listlessly.
“And… forget it.”
Before leaving, Han Mo squints his eyes, meaningfully scans Yan Yibing, fixes his gaze for a few seconds, then looks away.
Yan Yibing’s eyelids tremble inexplicably, and he touches his nose.
Han Mo washes up quickly, in just over ten minutes; he returns with damp hair, wearing a dark blue short-sleeved shirt.
As soon as he enters, he asks, “What’s the temperature?”
Yan Yibing’s gaze drifted. “Around 38, similar to usual.”
Actually, it’s 38.5 degrees.
He hasn’t rested much today, and playing games requires high concentration. After being overly tired, his temperature easily rose. Also, the fever medication he took in the afternoon didn’t seem to work.
Han Mo grabbed two bags of milk, took the small round dumplings from the refrigerator, lit the stove to boil water, and placed the dumplings in it to cook.
After about five or six minutes, he controlled the water, poured milk and red bean paste into the pot, simmering it on low heat. Once the red bean paste completely dissolved in the milk, he turned off the stove, poured it into bowls, and placed them by the window to cool.
“Have the porridge first.”
Han Mo served Yan Yibing the porridge.
Yan Yibing lay on the dining table, silently retrieving his phone from the table.
After being busy for half a day, Han Mo must have forgotten about the nickname.
Forgetting would be best; it’s better never to remember.
Yan Yibing opens his mouth, blows on the hot porridge, then sips it in small mouthfuls.
Although he had an eating disorder due to the illness, because Han Mo prepared various delicious meals for him these days, he didn’t find it too hard to cope.
After finishing the porridge Auntie made, and with the dessert cooled down, Yan Yibing drinks another bowl of small dumplings.
The sticky little dumplings can be swallowed with a flick of the tongue. The milk and red bean paste were also sweet and delicious. After finishing, he subconsciously sucked on the spoon.
Han Mo casually asked, “I heard Master played games today?”
Yan Yibing lowered his eyes casually. “Yeah, played for a while.”
He wasn’t too satisfied.
In the later rounds, his hands were weak, his head was spinning, and a grenade exploded beside him before he realized it, leading to a sudden decrease in points.
Han Mo says, “I’ll check the replay later.”
Yan Yibing alertly raised his eyes. “Why do you want to watch the replay?”
Han Mo put down the spoon, seriously saying, “Of course, to assess Bing Shen’s performance. We’re going to start cooperative training soon, and I need to have an idea.”
Yan Yibing frowned slightly, giving a light “Hmm.”
Han Mo’s request wasn’t unreasonable.
As four people accustomed to being the core of the team, they must understand each other well and coordinate with each other to play well in matches.
It’s not a big deal for Han Mo to take a look, except that the games he played today really don’t represent his true level.
After dinner,
Yan Yibing opened his laptop in the living room and logged into his account.
Retrieving the match history, Yan Yibing glanced at it and turned his face away in embarrassment.
B+, SSS, SSS, S, SS, A, A, B, S, SS, B, A.
Absolutely awful.
Han Mo went through it from top to bottom, silently making mental notes.
Playing twelve games at such a high fever while he was away. Moreover, they were all high-level matches on the Korean server, which consumed both time and energy.
He was almost catching up with his daily training volume.
Suppressing his anger, Han Mo opened the replay of the first B+ game.
Shrinking into the second circle, Yan Yibing drove straight to the hill for a loot.
This place was too close to the airport, almost a battleground, and an ambush on the hill was inevitable.
But Yan Yibing clearly harbored resentment during these few days of free time, deliberately challenging high difficulty.
As he drove up, gunfire could already be heard from at least three different directions.
Yan Yibing parked the car beside a large rock, using it as cover, jumped out, and killed two people.
After that, he experienced calculated movements to change his position.
After all, the car standing there was too conspicuous.
However, his position had long been exposed; someone was shooting at him from the front, and there was a sniper on the opposite hill.
No matter how skilled a player is, it’s challenging to dodge a distant sniper.
Moreover, he couldn’t continue hiding behind the car, as it would explode with a few shots.
Thus, Yan Yibing obtained a B+.
Yan Yibing began to break out in a cold sweat again, staring at the screen for a long time, making his physical condition worse.
He simply leaned against the sofa, hugging a cushion, not bothering to accompany Han Mo in watching.
After watching several replays in a row, Han Mo closed the replay and turned his head.
He casually said, “Bing Shen, how can you be someone else’s master when you are beaten like this?”
Yan Yibing blushed, feeling a bit frustrated, “This doesn’t reflect my true skill; I just ran out of energy later on.”
With a single hand, Han Mo closed the laptop, his eyes slightly narrowed, his voice low and steady as he said, “Really? In the first match, making such a rookie mistake, in our Prince team, the captain would make you stand for an hour as punishment.”
Yan Yibing swallowed hard, pursing his lips, inexplicably feeling ashamed.
Han Mo, however, acted indifferent, lowering his voice, “Do you know how to stand for punishment? Stand at the entrance of a training room, hands behind your back like a primary school student, not allowed to let go, not allowed to lean against the wall. Letting all the staff who come and go see who didn’t play well, a grown person yet punished to stand.”
Yan Yibing’s breathing became rapid, palms sweaty, tightly clutching the cushion.
He felt his face burning hot, flushed with embarrassment.
As Han Mo’s former master, it’s quite embarrassing to be scolded by his disciple.
“We at Zero don’t resort to physical punishment.”
Han Mo chuckled, “Is standing as a punishment a form of physical punishment? It’s just a lesson for unruly team members. But as the team captain, the coach and manager would probably be reluctant to punish you.”
Yan Yibing gritted his teeth and said slowly, “I’ve already said, I’m not in good condition due to the fever.”
Han Mo nodded thoughtfully, asking, “When Bing Shen was teaching his disciples, could he accept such an excuse?”
Yan Yibing tightened his lips, staring at Han Mo, with deep folds in his eyelids.
Although Han Mo was deliberately picking faults today, when he used to inspect the youth training camp, he indeed turned a blind eye to any excuses. He even trained Han Mo, not accepting any excuses like catching a cold or having a fever. If you didn’t perform well once, you would have to practice twice as much until the actions became muscle memory, and you could play even with your eyes closed.
Of course, that was an exaggeration. He never expected that one day he would be on the receiving end of this treatment.
With a poor condition, no matter how much he trained, it would remain the same.
Seeing that Yan Yibing didn’t answer, Han Mo asked again, “Since master knows he has a fever and is not in good condition, why not rest properly? Why waste time playing games and losing points all day?”
Yan Yibing was slightly startled.
Suddenly, he realized that this was what Han Mo wanted to convey.
It wasn’t a question of how poorly he played but rather anger that he was pushing himself to train in such a state.
So… he was concerned about him?
Yan Yibing’s eyelids drooped slightly, his thick lashes unfurled, and his face reddened a bit.
But the feeling of embarrassment had completely vanished, replaced entirely by the fever.
He could feel that his body temperature had risen even more, and it was becoming more challenging to stay awake.
Indeed, he shouldn’t have trained. In two more days, it would have been a week; he could have waited.
Feeling guilty, Yan Yibing’s voice was very soft, “Got it, I won’t practice for these two days.”
Han Mo nodded, squinting slightly as he leaned closer, “Now that this matter is settled, should we discuss the issue of the nickname?”
Yan Yibing: !!!
Sure enough!
This petty man would never let this matter slide!
Muttering to himself, Han Mo said, “Little Beast.”
Yan Yibing: …
He really wanted to say, “Listen to my explanation,” but he seemed to have nothing to explain.
He had labeled Han Mo as Little Beast in his Weibo, WeChat, and phone contacts.
Vivid and straightforward.
Han Mo said, “I come every day to cook for you, help you with massages, peel oranges. Do I run back and forth between the club and your home like a little beast? Or is it that I care about you, like you, and think of you whenever I see something good, like a little beast?”
Yan Yibing pressed his teeth against his tongue, his eyes trembling.
Han Mo clearly changed the concept!
Clearly, it was him hugging, kissing, going crazy, not even caring about infectious diseases that made him the Little Beast
But Han Mo was adept at stirring people’s hearts.
It was false to say these things didn’t move him. Besides his parents and Han Mo, no one took care of him like this.
So Yan Yibing whispered, “Alright, alright, I’ll change it, okay?”
He reached for his phone, opened his contacts, and before he could change it, Han Mo asked, “Change it to what?”
Yan Yibing replied, “Han Mo, what else would you want it to be?”
Han Mo smiled, the corners of his eyes lightly bending, his gaze bright.
“Master, are you sure you want me to say it?”
He spoke softly, teasingly, as if it were a matter of course, “How about changing it to ‘husband’?”
Husband? Yan Yibing’s fingers froze, and his eyes suddenly widened.
He took a deep breath, and the shattered light in his eyes seemed like pebbles hitting a calm lake.
“Han Mo, you…”
You bastard! Damn it!
You are a fucking little beast!
You’re more of a beast than a beast itself!
The beast immediately gives you this title and bows to you!
Han Mo’s eyes showed regret, and he said leisurely, “If you don’t want to.” He paused and elongated his tone, “That’s fine too. I’ll do some truly beastly things, and Master won’t have to change it.”
Yan Yibing: ?
Han Mo grabbed Yan Yibing’s ankle, lazily resting on the sofa, and said sourly, “Master has received so many love letters from childhood to now, enough to fill a whole box. In matters of love, Master shouldn’t be clueless.”
Yan Yibing felt warmth on his ankle, and small bumps appeared on his body.
“Who told you that I…”
He remembered.
His mother did indeed organize a box for him, specifically for the love letters he had received since childhood.
She said it was for the memories of youth, the innocent sweetness, just in case he couldn’t find a girlfriend later on, so he could catch up on missed experiences.
His mother had this sentimentality, but he didn’t.
The box was placed in the basement, and he had never looked at it once.
Many of the letters he received in the past remained unopened since they were mostly repetitive and uninteresting.
Han Mo leaned closer, and the strength of his hands increased.
“Has Master ever held hands with a girl? There are so many girls, you wouldn’t have never held hands with any of them, would you? It’s so easy to study, you’ll always get first place. Have you never thought of falling in love? Have you ever hugged or kissed a girl in the school garden?”
Yan Yibing indeed hadn’t.
He was late in understanding love. As a child, he was slightly proud, and pampered by his teacher. He was that kind of aloof academic genius who would stroll through the teaching building with hands in his pockets, pass by the board listing his name in first place with indifferent expressions, and then vaguely hear whispers of admiration from the girls. He would respond with a lazy smile.
Thinking about it now, it was pretty cringey.
But at that time, that was who he was. He never thought of establishing a romantic relationship with someone, and no one dared to recklessly pursue him.
“It’s none of your business! Let go!” Yan Yibing kicked hard, catching Han Mo off guard and releasing his grip on Yan Yibing’s ankle.
With a sullen face, Yan Yibing got up to leave.
However, his body felt weak, and he couldn’t match Han Mo’s strength.
Han Mo hooked his waist with his hand, pulling him back onto the sofa.
Han Mo looked at him, like a hungry little wolf.
With a little force, he firmly held Yan Yibing’s hands.
“Damn it!” Yan Yibing angrily cursed and tried to kick.
Han Mo directly lowered his knees between Yan Yibing’s legs.
Yan Yibing’s movements stopped.
With a vital part threatened, he didn’t dare to move recklessly.
His disheveled hair fell over his face, some parts of his abdomen peeking from his oversized shirt.
Han Mo’s breath fell heavily on Yan Yibing’s face, his Adam’s apple rolling.
“If Master doesn’t change the contact name, I’ll really act like a beast?”
Yan Yibing shivered, biting his lip tightly, and his ears burned.
He couldn’t imagine how crazy Han Mo could be.
As if he had been confined in a temple for too long.
Getting angry wouldn’t work, and he couldn’t beat Han Mo.
Yan Yibing, feeling angry, had no choice but to change his strategy.
He relaxed his strength, shrunk his body, and carefully avoided Han Mo’s knees by bending his legs.
Then, he furrowed his brows, slightly parted his lips, and feigned weakness, panting weakly.
“Han Mo, you can’t do this. I have a high fever. In the afternoon, it was 38.5 degrees. It must be higher now.”
“My head hurts so much. Is it possible to get complications of meningitis?”
“My throat also hurts, and the swelling behind my ears is uncomfortable. I feel like vomiting.”
“It’s so uncomfortable; I’m going to die.”
After saying that, he closed his eyes, tilted his head, and wrinkled his nose, letting a few strands of hair messily fall on his face, resembling a dying little animal.
Han Mo paused for a few seconds, indeed releasing him and reaching out to touch his forehead.
It was indeed burning hot.
His face also showed an abnormal flush, his lips were a bit dry, and the back of his ears was swollen, almost touching the earlobes.
It seemed that today’s training had placed a heavy burden on his body.
Han Mo got down from the sofa, half kneeling on the ground, pushed away his messy hair, and took advantage of Yan Yibing closing his eyes, leaning in to gently kiss the corner of his curled eyelashes.
Han Mo chuckled softly, somewhat helpless. “Alright, Master acting spoiled can also be considered progress.”
Author’s Message:
Han Mo: I want to be called husband.
Yan Yibing: …
Thank you for reading! 
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