Yan Yibing looks troubled and waves Sun Tianjiao over. Resting his chin in his hand, he gazes at Sun with a look of desperate curiosity, “What do you usually give Mr. Bian for his birthday?”
Sun Tianjiao, while cracking seeds, shakes his head, “My method won’t suit you, just give up on that.”
Yan Yibing, unable to restrain himself, pounces to tickle Sun: “Tell me!”
Sun Tianjiao squirmed as Yan Yibing tickled him relentlessly. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you!” He got up, brushed off the dust from his clothes, cleared his throat, and said solemnly, “The birthday present I give to Mr. Bian is… telling him what I want for my next birthday.”
Yan Yibing looks unimpressed, “Does he even need you to tell him? What do you expect? Gold bars, shares, Bitcoin, or some stable investment?”
Sun Tianjiao keeps a straight face, “What are you implying? Am I such a money-grubber?”
Yan Yibing raises an eyebrow, “Aren’t you?”
Sun Tianjiao grins, “I am!”
After the jokes, he becomes serious again, “Ah, Mr. Bian lacks nothing, and he’s so mature and stable. We focus more on spiritual connection. Birthday gifts? They’re less exciting than the stock market. Not like your young and vigorous ‘Little Wolf’, Han Mo.”
Yan Yibing sighed deeply as he typed on the keyboard. “I’m mature and steady too. So, what does a young and vigorous ‘Little Wolf’ like?”
Sun Tianjiao teased with a suggestive eyebrow raise. “Why don’t you figure that out in bed?”
Yan Yibing glares at him, “Get lost!”
After much thought, Yan Yibing really can’t figure out what Han Mo might lack. They’re not frugal with money and generally buy whatever they want. Han Mo’s unused garage is even converted into a storage room.
If he wanted to make the birthday special, he had to rely on heartfelt gestures.
Yan Yibing plans to make a birthday cake for Han Mo by himself. Though not expensive, for him, who is not usually hands-on and ignorant about cooking, it’s a grand gesture.
Initially, Yan Yibing had hired a famous pastry chef from Magic City, and after several hours of work, he was quite pleased with the product, although the chef, rubbing his back and holding a glass of water, complained, “Do you really have the cheek to say you made this? In your esports circle, this would be like idling in a game—It was me using your account to grind experience!”
After careful consideration, Yan Yibing realized the pastry chef was right. He couldn’t make something this good. So, he made a firm decision to take the ingredients back home and make one entirely on his own. It might not look great, but as long as it was a cake, Han Mo would surely appreciate it.
As Yan Yibing surveyed the chaotic mess he made in the kitchen and looked at the things he baked, he pondered how to make this lump of stuff look like a cake.
Han Mo had just finished training at Prince and even stopped by a barbershop for a quick hair wash, having been tipped off by Sun Tianjiao that Yan Yibing had been plotting his birthday gift for a week.
He knew he was coming home to a surprise.
However, he didn’t expect to open the door to find Yan Yibing somewhat disheartened, sitting on the couch with several disastrous cakes displayed in the kitchen. The only presentable one was under the guidance of a professional pastry chef, clearly not made by Yan Yibing himself.
Although he excelled in gaming, Yan Yibing indeed lacked culinary skills. Besides, Han Mo usually cooked at home, so he never had the opportunity to cook.
Seeing Han Mo return, Yan Yibing tried to cheer up, chuckling, “Happy Birthday! Luckily I had the foresight to bring the cake made at the shop, otherwise you might not even have a place to put the candles.”
Han Mo set down his backpack, glanced at the most beautiful cake, and then his gaze fell on the others, misshapen and odd.
Yan Yibing subtly shifted to block those failed attempts.
Han Mo chuckled, “Master spent the whole day making cakes for me? No wonder my calls went unanswered.”
Yan Yibing couldn’t stand the embarrassment of admitting his mushy act, bluffing, “It wasn’t all day, just a bit here and there. I had my phone on silent, didn’t hear it.”
“It’s fine, Master, I love whatever you do.” Han Mo walked over, scooped a piece of the misshapen cake with a spoon, and unblinkingly popped it into his mouth.
“Hey! Eat the good one, these are all disasters!” Yan Yibing couldn’t help but get anxious.
He had of course tasted his creations, hoping they’d be unsightly yet delicious. But as it turned out, they really weren’t meant for human consumption.
Han Mo chewed thoughtfully for a moment.
Han Mo: “…” He decided to go easy on himself.
“Ahem, at least the frosting isn’t bad.” Han Mo grudgingly offered some objective praise.
Yan Yibing pouted, tapping his toes on the floor, “I told you to eat the good one.”
Han Mo walked over, leaning his hands on the couch, encircling Yan Yibing in his arms: “I knew right away that the good one wasn’t made by you, Master. What if I only want to eat what Master made?”
Yan Yibing, grabbing Han Mo’s collar and tilting his head back, declared righteously, “What if what I make doesn’t taste good?”
Han Mo looked genuinely concerned, nodded seriously, pondered for a moment, and then said earnestly, “Hmm, it seems there’s not much good food left at home.”
Yan Yibing’s eyes sparkled, “So I also prepared a Plan B. How about I take you out to eat instead?”
Han Mo frowned, “But I’m hungry now.”
Yan Yibing blinked. “Then shall we go now?”
Han Mo’s left hand skillfully slid into Yan Yibing’s cream-scented hoodie, gently biting his earlobe, whispering, “Why don’t I just eat it now?”
Thank you for reading! 
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