Han Mo swallowed the taro, gazing silently at Yan Yibing without uttering a word.
Apart from slightly moist eyes, a faint redness around the corners, and the overpowering smell of alcohol that couldn’t be concealed, he didn’t look like a drunkard at all.
His expression was clear, his movements composed, but there was something slightly different from his usual self.
He no longer bothered to hide his emotions.
He looked at Yan Yibing, meaning he still wanted to eat.
Yan Yibing couldn’t help but feel both amused and exasperated. He lightly tapped Han Mo’s warm face with the pinky finger that hadn’t touched the sugar threads.
“How old are you to still want to be fed?”
Being touched on the face by Yan Yibing, Han Mo didn’t resist. Instead, he gently shook Yan Yibing’s wrist.
He wished for Yan Yibing to continue feeding him.
Yan Yibing took a deep breath, glancing at the wrist captured by Han Mo. “How can I feed you if you’re holding onto me?”
For the first time, he regretted his slender frame, allowing Han Mo to firmly grip his wrist without any resistance.
Han Mo’s palm warmth lingered on his skin.
Han Mo understood, nodded earnestly, and whispered, “Sorry.”
He slowly released his grip, leaving it suspended, as if waiting for Yan Yibing to reach over before grabbing it again.
The more composed and rational Han Mo appeared, the more intoxicated he must be.
After restraining himself for so long, he even refused to lose control when drunk.
Yan Yibing, seeing his straightforward and undisguised hints, felt a bit stifled.
“What kind of person still acting so crazy with alcohol.”
Muttering to himself, he retrieved another piece of taro and offered it to Han Mo’s lips.
“Considering your bad mood today, have more sweet stuff; it’ll cheer you up.”
Sure enough, Han Mo once again grabbed his wrist. This time, Yan Yibing’s eyelid twitched, but he didn’t pull away.
Han Mo lowered his eyes, his long eyelashes seemed denser and longer under the dim light, with a faint, slender trace on his eyelid.
This time, the taro wasn’t as hot, but a sugar thread inadvertently dropped onto the base of Yan Yibing’s finger.
After finishing the taro, Han Mo’s eyes dimmed. Suddenly, he leaned in even closer and licked the base of Yan Yibing’s finger.
The sugar thread disappeared.
Caught off guard, Yan Yibing didn’t have time to dodge.
His eyes widened suddenly; the tingling sensation seemed to be imprinted on his skin, lingering for a long time.
This is going too far.
“Are you a cat? Licking everything?”
Yan Yibing’s fingers trembled slightly, a sense of alarm flickering within him.
If the sugar strands from the taro dropped elsewhere, he was certain that, given Han Mo’s intoxicated state, he would undoubtedly lick that too without hesitation.
Drunk Han Mo lacked basic judgment.
Han Mo, however, furrowed his brows and solemnly informed him, “There’s no cat in the zodiac. Don’t you remember what sign I belong to?”
Yan Yibing sighed and decided not to argue with him any further.
You couldn’t reason with someone who had drunk too much.
“Why did you drink so much?”
Han Mo’s eyelids fluttered, his thin lips tightened, and his gaze turned somewhat pitiful.
“Today, many bad things happened, but fortunately, there’s one good thing.”
Yan Yibing knew what he referred to as the bad things.
The anniversary of his mother’s passing was already heartbreaking enough, but his father was another type of person altogether.
Not only had he failed to comfort Han Mo, but he also attempted to take advantage of their father-son relationship for his benefit.
Although Yan Yibing hadn’t seen Han Tang in person, the disdain in Sun Tianjiao’s tone revealed the man’s stinginess.
Yan Yibing grew up in a harmonious and happy family, making it hard for him to imagine how much hardship Han Mo had endured over the years.
The most infuriating type of person wasn’t just an outright villain but someone unaware of their own wickedness, shamelessly causing even greater pain to the victims.
“Tell me about this good thing. I want to hear it.”
Yan Yibing’s eyes were typically refined, gentle, and mild, a trait characteristic of people from the southern regions. His thin eyelids and slightly curled eyelashes displayed natural creases, and his eyes weren’t overly elongated, creating a perfectly balanced shape.
His irises were a watery ink color, particularly clear and bright due to spending too much time in front of screens, making his eyes sensitive and prone to tearing.
It was this kind of subtle tenderness that captivated Han Mo, rendering him unable to extricate himself.
He stared at Yan Yibing, swallowed, and with a low yet firm voice, said, “You.”
“Hmm?” Yan Yibing was momentarily taken aback.
Han Mo repeated, “The good thing is you. Only you.”
Yan Yibing fell into a brief silence, forgetting even to pull his hand back.
After contemplating for a moment, he smiled with understanding, “Are you referring to the caramelized taro I brought you? How hungry were you? If I hadn’t brought it, you might have starved to death. Then, I am really a good thing.”
Han Mo lowered his gaze without explaining.
It wasn’t what he truly thought, but he didn’t want to refute Yan Yibing’s words.
Yan Yibing thought that Han Mo, being drunk, probably wouldn’t remember tonight’s events tomorrow.
He still had some questions and wanted to take the opportunity to clarify.
Yan Yibing leaned in closer, gesturing with his eyes toward the taro in his hand. “We’ll eat more later. I have some questions for you. Let go of me for now.”
Han Mo hesitated for a moment, nodded, and let go of Yan Yibing’s wrist.
As he let go, he instinctively rubbed it, as if afraid he had hurt Yan Yibing.
Yan Yibing decided to pay no more attention to this hand. Whatever he went through tonight, he’d consider it a dream.
Yan Yibing looked up and gently asked, “Back then, when you needed money for medical treatment, why didn’t you come to me? You should know, I’m not lacking in money.”
Han Mo’s pupils suddenly contracted, seemingly startled by his question.
He subconsciously tried to step back, but Yan Yibing directly grasped the back of his neck, applying some force to prevent him from evading.
Yan Yibing spoke each word slowly and deliberately, his gaze fixed and unrelenting, leaving Han Mo no chance to escape.
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
Just two hundred thousand, it was nothing to him, and for Han Mo’s sake, he would definitely lend it.
But unfortunately, it was these two hundred thousand that, like a butterfly flapping its wings, changed everything.
Han Mo’s jaw tightened, his lips quickly pursed a few times. He lowered his eyes, his gaze like a lake surface shattered by a stone, full of fragmented light.
He finally muttered, his tone somewhat desolate. “Not just two hundred thousand.”
“I don’t know how much I needed, it was too late, the doctor said it was too late.”
“You would lend me two hundred thousand, what about four hundred thousand, or a million?”
“Our relationship is just… like this. Someday, you’ll come to hate me.”
“If, in the end, you hate me, it’s better for me to…”
Han Mo didn’t finish his sentence.
He had indeed drunk a lot, and the more he spoke, the more incoherent he became.
But Yan Yibing understood his meaning.
Yan Yibing chuckled bitterly; that feeling of anger and powerlessness surged within him once again.
“Are you looking down on me, or are you looking down on yourself? Just wait a little longer, and Sun Tianjiao will sign with you immediately. You’ll be the core of the entire team, with an annual salary of at least two million for the first team. You’ll also have income from live streaming. No matter how much money I lend you, I believe you can repay it.”
Han Mo fell silent and, after a moment, slowly said, “At that time, I didn’t expect so much. Two hundred thousand was too huge for me.”
Yan Yibing suddenly felt a bit deflated.
Yeah, what’s the point of venting these feelings now? Everything was in the past.
But these words should have been made clear back then.
Yan Yibing softened his tone, tugged at Han Mo’s shirt collar, and asked forcefully, “When I drove you away back then, do you hate me? How much do you hate me?”
Han Mo’s chest slightly rose and fell. He nodded, then shook his head, and finally, his eyes reddened.
He whispered, “Sorry.”
Yan Yibing frowned, released his grip, and smoothed out the creases in his collar.
“Why another sorry? How many apologies are you going to say tonight? Hate me if you want. I’m not oblivious.”
However, Han Mo, with red eyes, mumbled to himself, “I didn’t want to bully you, or make you retire. I just wanted to keep playing matches with you. I wanted to play matches with you forever. I was afraid you’d forget about me, that you’d be too indifferent to even hate me.”
Yan Yibing was momentarily stunned, realizing Han Mo was talking about the exhibition match from two years ago.
So every apology he made tonight was for what happened back then?
Han Mo lowered his head, carefully tugging at the hem of Yan Yibing’s clothes, only daring to pull a little.
His Adam’s apple rolled up and down, the constant swallowing actions exposing the tension in his emotions.
“You blocked me on all platforms, ignored me backstage, didn’t even look at me. You weren’t angry, upset, or disappointed. Even when I went to Prince, you didn’t react at all. You kept Lei Ming, and then you didn’t want me at all.”
Yan Yibing took a deep breath, feeling like his lungs were about to explode from the suffocating pressure.
He avoided Han Mo’s gaze and looked around.
The lighting was dim, the night was deep, and in the chilly living room, only the caramelized taro emitted faint warmth.
A sensation of warmth and moisture welled up in his eyes, a bitter and sour feeling in his chest.
He had no idea Han Mo felt this way.
He never expected that Han Mo’s dependence on him would be so profound.
He always thought that when Han Mo was around, it was him who relied on Han Mo.
Yan Yibing suddenly became irritable. “Where did you get all these self-pitying thoughts? Ever heard of the silent treatment? I ignored you because I was mad. If I really didn’t care, I could have reported you for insulting opponents, got you banned for half a year, fined tens of thousands. You still complain about me keeping Lei Ming on the team?”
Han Mo blinked slowly, a trace of confusion flickering in his eyes. “You’re mad at me, not that you no longer want to deal with me?”
Yan Yibing laughed out of frustration and lightly slapped him on the head, scolding in a low voice, “So I should report you for insulting opponents, have the organizers ban you for half a year, and fine you over ten thousand just to make you think I care about you? Are you a masochist, Han Mo?”
Han Mo didn’t mind being hit; he just lifted his damp eyes to look at Yan Yibing.
The knot in his heart that had been blocking him slowly dissipated.
He liked seeing Yan Yibing vent his anger. If Yan Yibing could get angry, it meant he still considered him one of his own.
“Sorry. That day, I turned eighteen and just wanted… a birthday gift.”
Because Yan Yibing had promised. He had promised.
But he didn’t wait for it.
Hearing his apology, Yan Yibing’s anger quickly subsided.
He remembered Han Mo kneeling before him, that restrained yet fragile plea, “Didn’t we agree to wait until I turned eighteen?”
Yan Yibing closed his eyes.
That sentence was truly heart-wrenching.
He had missed all his promises to Han Mo.
The promises were genuine when made, but later, he couldn’t fulfill them, which was also genuine.
Eighteen was indeed a day worth celebrating.
But evidently, that day wasn’t pleasant for either him or Han Mo.
Yan Yibing remembered that he had prepared a lapel pin, which was designed by a foreign jewelry designer, and the aqua gold lapel pin was embedded with a glittering white diamond.
He remembered it was Han Mo’s birthday that day, but due to their rift, he couldn’t bring himself to give it.
He heard Song Tang reminding about Han Mo’s birthday.
After all, they were peers, so there was some friendship. It was customary to acknowledge a birthday, even if just sending a WeChat red packet.
So, Yan Yibing casually passed by and threw the pin to Song Tang, saying, “Don’t be so stingy when giving gifts. Use this small thing the sponsor gave us.”
Song Tang thought Yan Yibing might get angry if he knew it was for Han Mo, so he nervously tucked away the pin without saying much.
However, due to the unexpected incident during the exhibition match, causing a rift between Zero and Prince, the pin clearly wasn’t given.
Yan Yibing sighed, feeling soft-hearted. Unable to resist, he asked, “What gift did you want back then?”
Han Mo’s eyes darkened, and he stared at him without looking away.
Yan Yibing pursed his lips, leaned against the wall, and lazily said, “I can make up for it.”
Han Mo unexpectedly leaned in, hands on either side of Yan Yibing’s head, blocking any escape routes.
Then, at lightning speed, he leaned in, closed his eyes, and lightly touched Yan Yibing’s lips with his own.
A shallow, gentle, and cautious peck.
A kiss without any lust or oppression, just a simple and straightforward expression of long-suppressed affection.
He swiftly retreated and murmured hoarsely, “This.”
Author’s Message:
Han Mo: I can do it; I’ve made my move.
Thank you for reading! 
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