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The music thins when the tension starts.
The stadium’s roars are drowned out by in-game noise. The background sounds were of muted rustling; only now, sharp swings and swiveling winds take over, followed by deafening cracks. Sound effects of battle. An unbreakable lance versus seven-figures-worth of silver equipment. The former drills forward at the speed of light, and the latter is…
Broken.
That much holds true when the shoulder pad sees a foreboding crack. The berserker character stumbles backward, and the lance-wielder, this damned battlemage, spares no mercy.
The lance impales like quicksilver. Over and over again, the sharp tip drills into the berserker like he’s a plaything. Poor Desert Dust – speared like a cotton plush, entrails flowing out and all, blood spurting out because well, censorship was left behind in this championship arena match.
The battlemage’s user – whichever infuriating motherfucker on the other side of the screen – even has the nerve to send out a quick chat message.
One Autumn Leaf: :-)
An emoji. A single emoji that seeps mockery.
And keep in mind, Desert Dust is by no means a deadweight – this is a god-tier character the alliance preens over, and its user, Han Wenqing, is not deadweight. Conversely, he is a hulk with unnecessarily toned muscles, eight-packs-of-abs-too-many for a pro gamer, and calloused hands that are, at the moment, slamming against the keyboard in rage.
It must hurt – for the keyboard, that is – as Han Wenqing’s veins bulge from how furiously he’s striking his fingers against the keys. An APM to rival the gods. The e-sports circle would have a fun time deciphering the spike, and consequently, deciphering Han Wenqing’s sudden spike in blood pressure.
Desert Dust is floating in the air now.
One Autumn Leaf is skipping along the foresty grounds, vanishing in his steps – how is that possible, even, for that bulked-up character to make no noise when moving?
Every action of his is barely visible to the human eye – and since when did Glory implement such an epileptic battle sequence? The battlemage, carrying some sort of divine glow, strikes the screen into chromatic aberration.
Han Wenqing’s fingers fly. ‘Fuck you,’ he types in the chat, ‘don’t you dare disres—”
His health bar drops from red to zero. But the battlemage isn’t done mocking him yet, because his ragdoll berserker is now uprooted and speared into a tree, left like a sacrifice to the birds. Han Wenqing is left to witness gray, cumulus skies.
Before his screen grays out completely, the battlemage stands in glory. There is laziness in the opponent’s form – sort of a self-assured stance, one of greatness, poised in his right. Perhaps, there could be a well-imagined smirk on that king’s avatar.
One Autumn Leaf: haha
The screen dithers out. Defeat.
Season three marks the fall of Tyranny once more.
“Glory!” the broadcaster screams out amidst the roaring crowd. The stadium lights flicker on, and the entire front section is excessively brightened in glowing red. It’s Excellent Era’s color, and the fans have long sprung up from the edge of their seats, their hands waving in celebration.
The broadcaster continues with an elaborate analysis of the gameplay, but not many are listening in the aftermath. The home stadium is replaying the finishing moves over and over, and the lucky crowd gets to see just how much Desert Dust was wrecked in a flurry of strikes. The battleground is covered in soot; in its tranquility, the forest trees waver. A single leaf falls, and flutters to the grass.
“764!” the broadcaster highlights to the crowd. “Unbelievable! Look at that hand speed! Look at that number! He’s broken the record! One Autumn Leaf!”
Indeed, the APM is more than inhuman, and the opponent is…
Confetti pops loudly onto the stage, skittering down where the championship team stands. Excellent Era, the reigning champion with now three consecutive trophies, has but six members. Captain Wu Xuefeng, a glasses-wearing young man, holds the trophy high in his hand. He’s supported by a kid standing at his side.
Indeed, to Han Wenqing, the vice-captain of Excellent Era was but a child. Sixteen? Eighteen? It matters not, because this Sun Xiang is all looks and no substance. Yellow hair, blue eyes, fair skin – no wonder Excellent Era is raking in cash. Surely, the sponsors would kneel to be in his favor. An arrogant smirk rests on his youthful face.
Sun Xiang is slated to be captain after Wu Xuefeng retires – probably, the first headline will run tomorrow morning. A prodigy, they call him.
Was he hired to be a vase?
And this dumb kid is behind One Autumn Leaf?
Han Wenqing had to give a cold snort. There was a reason One Autumn Leaf never showed his face – it appears that the reason was publicity. At this moment, all the cameras are pointed at the dazzling young prodigy, carrier of three crowns. It is the best moment for him to be revealed. The stage is lit in his fervor.
All those online articles aside, Han Wenqing had truthfully never seen the kid in person either. The first tournament, this Sun Xiang was never there. Han Wenqing also left before the meet-and-greet. Too bothersome. Bright lights, blinding full-cinema monitors. An army of thousands of spectators who numb his old brain.
Mind you, Tyranny’s Captain Han is at a ripe age of 23. Mentally, he is in his eighties. People younger than him look like embryonic sacs.
Well, two years ago, it wasn’t his championship win anyway, and he hadn’t stayed.
Then, the second tournament… when his berserker was pummeled to the ground, health sapped and equipment destroyed, Han Wenqing was immature enough to exit the stage altogether.
Presently, Han Wenqing watches on the sidelines, and watches some more as Tyranny goes to pay respects to the crowned champions.
The two teams shake hands.
Han Wenqing’s face is steeled into a tight frown. His eyebrows take an angular shape, permanently stamped onto his stone-cold face. For a person who plays games for a living, he certainly doesn’t look the part. He stares at Sun Xiang as though the latter were no more than dirt beneath his feet.
“One Autumn Leaf?” He speaks. The little kid looks up at him with raised brows. Han Wenqing’s dark eyes trail over that haughty face. And then he says, “You are still too green.”
The stadium is quelled to silence. Han Wenqing’s words are picked up clearly by the mic piece and broadcasted all over the excessively large venue. The confetti is still falling in waves, dropping down to his delinquent face that screams ‘meet me after school.’
The people are shocked, of course, because Han Wenqing not only lost the one-on-one duel, but also had the audacity to taunt the winner.
Wrong.
Han Wenqing – somehow, he knows. The stage lights do not dim, and at this angle, Han Wenqing catches the young kid’s features in full.
It’s not him.
There’s a characteristic laziness to One Autumn Leaf’s approach. The way he wields that lance, the way he carries himself – goddamn it, his aura is overpowering enough to get Captain Han on his knees. And this greenhorn, Sun Xiang, has very little of that. Sun Xiang displays arrogance, but he doesn’t display it well.
Han Wenqing’s intuition – somehow, he knows.
---
“As we’ve agreed upon,” the club CEO says as he counts a wad of cash, neatly placing the bills into an envelope, “ten thousand.”
Tao Xuan is a despicable character. He is a businessman, for one, and he fiddles with his employees on puppet strings on the tips of his leather gloves. But he doesn’t delve into any illegal dealings of the sort – it’s only the poor, the unfortunate, and the desperate who willingly follow.
Ye Xiu fits every category.
Ten thousand for a championship win – not terrible, but far from enough.
Pale, slender fingers reach for the envelope. The young man stuffs it in his jacket pocket in a seemingly careless manner. Ye Xiu’s always had an air of nonchalance to him – a slouched posture, a hood over his raven-black hair, all signs that show he doesn’t quite care.
“Next season's playoffs,” Tao Xuan tells him with a deceptive smile. “Sun Xiang has yet to reach your skill level with One Autumn Leaf, and we’ll trouble you to be his substitute player for one more season. Or perhaps, if you’re willing, I’d give a long-term offer to be a training partner?”
“I’ll pass.” Ye Xiu hands him an account card. One Autumn Leaf. “I’m not interested in the pro scene.”
“It’s a pity, you are aware,” Tao Xuan says, gesturing to the arena stage, beckoning for him to take a splendid look. The place they’re in is right behind the curtains, and the audience is still screaming congratulations to the winning team. There’s a post-interview celebration now. “Ye Qiu, we would’ve liked to bring you in as captain, were you not opposed to fame.”
The backdrop is dark. The stage lights do not reach this corner, where the two are hidden from public view.
Ye Xiu returns his attention to the man. He gives a wave of finality. “Congratulations.”
Tao Xuan smiles. “Take care.”
Ye Xiu leaves.
And then five minutes later, as he’s leaving through the back exit, he rams into a block of muscle. Ye Xiu’s head had been bowed to accept a cigarette in his mouth, and unfortunately, he did not see a massive brick coming his way. His pack of smokes skids twice before falling flat on the ground, right next to a black baseball cap.
The man he ran into – labelled scariest gamer alive, top ten ‘people to run away from’ and runner-up for ‘scariest school bully’ – Han Wenqing, of course.
The man has mugshots plastered all over the city billboards (alright, the photos are commemorating his skills, but he’d been dropped from every celebrity endorsement for his resting bitch face). Han Wenqing looks pissed – but how exactly is it Ye Xiu’s fault when the man is standing right in front of the door like a club bouncer?
Also, again, when is there a time Han Wenqing doesn’t look pissed? The man glares at him, acting as though Ye Xiu ate his breakfast, lunch, dinner, and subsequently murdered his family for dessert.
Ye Xiu is quite certain he didn’t.
“My fault,” he says anyway, waving a hand in apology.
He bends to pick up the fallen pack of cigarettes, but surprisingly, Han Wenqing gets to it first. Their hands brush accidentally. Ye Xiu’s fingertips graze against a tough palm – the calluses on it are unbefitting of a man who plays video games for a living.
Also surprisingly, it seems Han Wenqing is quite the gentleman…? Or so, initial thoughts hold, until the man pulls the cigarette pack away abruptly, causing Ye Xiu to stumble backward.
“What are you doing?” Ye Xiu asks with his unfiltered mouth, “Are you here to extort my lunch money, after all?”
Han Wenqing raises an eyebrow. It is uncertain if the man’s gaze is one of murder or something else, but Han Wenqing certainly takes his time studying Ye Xiu’s fingers.
“I haven’t seen you before,” Han Wenqing comments, his eyes now peering straight into Ye Xiu’s soul. “No one uses this exit unless they’re players. Your name?”
---
Very dainty.
This person’s fingers, that is. And no, Han Wenqing does not admit he has a hand fetish of any sort, but is there seriously a man who takes such meticulous care of his fingers? From the phalanges to the cuticles, and from the beds to the carefully-shaped nails… This young man looks like he’d just gotten a manicure at the Glory Professional Alliance championship stadium.
The young man exhales, cigarette smoke penetrating into Han Wenqing’s lungs.
“You’re coming on a little too forward, aren’t you?” the stranger asks.
He looks about twenty. His black hair flutters, the evening breeze catching onto a few soft locks. His appearance isn’t all that special at first glance – average features, light brows, thin eyelids that are just a bit condescending if looked at closely.
But there’s just something about him that makes Han Wenqing kind of… really pissed off. Is it that smug expression he has on? Call Captain Han sensitive, but it is easy to tell that this person (half his size) is making fun of him. There is more to the stranger beyond those tea-colored eyes.
The young man’s lips quirk up.
Han Wenqing didn’t imagine it this time – definitely, he’s being teased.
“Ye Xiu,” the person introduces, lifting his arm up for a lazy handshake. “Janitor.”
Janitor? With those hands that don’t look to have scrubbed a single floor tile?
“…Han Wenqing.” He shakes his hand anyway. “But I don’t have to introduce myself, do I?”
Ye Xiu (a menace, by first impressions alone) tilts his head. “And why should I know you?”
“You’re employed by the Glory Alliance,” Han Wenqing states with a frown that hasn’t left his face since six o’clock this morning. “And I am a pro player.”
Ye Xiu squints. “Come to think of it, you might be familiar?”
Han Wenqing doesn’t want to entertain him any longer. With a cold huff, he turns away. The temperature is abnormally high tonight, and he finds himself sweating underneath his one tank top. His ears see a light flush, crawling to his cheeks.
Han Wenqing must look a little pathetic right now – a pro player, a god of Glory, leaving the very venue he had lost in just half an hour prior.
Before he leaves, however, he hears a light laugh.
Airy, just like the young man’s voice.
“You’re in a bad mood, Captain Han?” Ye Xiu stubs his cigarette bud against the adjacent wall. “I can understand why. Your performance in the last half was lacking.”
He drops the snarky comment just like that. And then he waves, the sleeve of his hoodie dipping lower to reveal skin paler than a vampire’s. “Have a safe trip back.”
Han Wenqing remains still for some seconds before walking away into the confines of night.
But has Han Wenqing ever mentioned that he has a very keen intuition? Somehow, their first meeting feels like their hundredth.
---
Excellent Era’s captain, Wu Xuefeng really did retire.
The next morning, the headlines are blasted in every noticeable square of the city. The championship team brought on a new roster – very skilled supporting players who would bring forth Sun Xiang’s alarming potential, and usher Glory into a new era.
There are many who celebrate such a dominating team (yesterday’s match replay only highlighted how much of a powerhouse ‘Sun Xiang’ is), and then there are a few who are too jaded to care.
One of them being Han Wenqing, who has absolutely confirmed that this young punk is not the original user of One Autumn Leaf.
For one, he’d encountered the battlemage in game and requested a duel, only to have it be declined five times. One Autumn Leaf would have jumped at the offer, and very willingly taken a chance to crush Han Wenqing into smithereens (alright, in Han Wenqing’s defense, their record is 6-20, not yet a clean sweep).
Secondly, he’d watched One Autumn Leaf barrel himself into the virtual city square, decked in gilded armor, waving a shiny lance, actually conversing with the starstruck common players and – what the fuck? When had One Autumn Leaf ever cared to flaunt his popularity?
The manner of speech was incredibly off-putting too, because Han Wenqing is used to one-word mockeries and smiley face emojis, not full sentences.
He logged off.
Now, Han Wenqing is browsing through some gossip forum, skipping the thousands of posts that have emerged following Tyranny’s third consecutive loss (rather, Excellent Era’s third consecutive win). He also skips the fan posts that have placed Sun Xiang’s ‘charming’ face onto a field of flowers. Han Wenqing would not like to see those.
This is a terrible way to spend his one-hour break, he thinks, as he scrolls through waves of community rambling.
[CLICK for match replay +1 prayer for desert dust]
[season 3 finals screenshots +2 prayers for desert dust]
…
[+92 prayers for desert dust]
[how to maximize your dps – battle god edition p.s. i was personally coached by god sun xiang]
[s> golden caviar knuckles, a.s. 4, atk 550, serious inquiries only@@@@]
[blue brook guild is full of f*king scrap pickers @tastemyblade69 mf*ker meet me at g city if you dare]
[@MASSIVED1ck hahahahaha stfu loser and pkpkpkpkpkpkpkppkpkpkpkp]
…
Han Wenqing wonders if the common Glory scene has always been so… utterly mundane. He scrolls some more because, well, he does have some time to waste after an intensive workout.
…
[photogenic spots in gui gui town]
[cherry blossoms date! p.s. marriage update when??]
…
There are all kinds of players – professionals, wannabes, casuals, and even artists looking to capture references. Interesting. There’s another interesting topic that has gained quite a bit of traction in the last hour – ten thousand views a minute.
[han wenqing beat me up in high school W/ EVIDENCe]
The person of topic, Han Wenqing himself, expressionlessly flags the thread. He’s about to close the forum page when a title catches his eye.
[MUST WATCH vanishing step! god ye is streaming live NOW, clearing a dungeon MUST WATCH MUST WATCH MUST WATCH MUS]
The thread starter was so eager they’d even surpassed the word count. Han Wenqing, fueled by something inexplicable, navigates to the linked site. Vanishing step? He has quite the experience with it, but it would be entertaining to be tutored by a ‘god.’ He snorts.
It links to a livestream platform.
And it is just about the lowest-effort livestream he’d ever stumbled upon. Han Wenqing isn’t one to watch a bunch of deadbeat gamers, but even then, he has some sense of tact to know that, firstly, the setup shouldn’t be this amateur; secondly, the camera is minimized to a good one percent of the screen, invisible if the viewer isn’t furiously squinting; and lastly, the camera lighting should at least be good enough to showcase something.
All that’s visible is a blurry pair of hands, color desaturated by a hundred, typing at the speed of an old lady with a mobile phone.
The keyboard is on a desk that looks to be taped with construction paper, looking like the tackiest, lowest budget setup possible. In fact, Han Wenqing can bet that the camera itself is a scrap item manufactured in the 1990s, clipped onto the desktop monitor with thumb tack.
And the category of the stream isn’t set to ‘gaming’ but to ‘housekeeping’ for Glory’s sake. This person is just about the laziest, most disreputable streamer he’d had the misfortune to see. Han Wenqing will never trust the internet again.
[Unrivaled Super Hottie is live now.]
But the number of viewers is boggling.
And the live chat, for reasons unbeknownst to him, is absolutely thriving.
Immediately, it’s swarmed with followers, fans and bored internet trolls, all of them who have been apparently setting camp on this Unrivaled Super Hottie’s streaming channel for a whole decade.
OneInch: Senior Ye, welcome back!
TasteMyBlade69: first
TasteMyBlade69: person above me, go away, thank u
TasteMyBlade69: person above me, fuck off, i’m first, i’m first, i’m first, i’m first i’m first i’m
[TasteMyBlade69 has been timed out. Reason: spamming.]
TheMagician: Control yourself.
TheMagician: First.
zzkxxx: Tomorrow?
xxxzzktl: My colleague would like to cordially extend you an invitation for a corporate dinner tomorrow evening.
The deadbeat streamer, Unrivaled Super Hottie, can be heard stifling a yawn. The old microphone picks up noise. One of his hands leaves the keyboard, and light scratching could be heard. Then, soft rustling is followed by a very lazy male voice.
“I’m here. Don’t spam. No cursing. No undecipherable account names. I won’t read chat much today, so behave yourselves.” Another yawn, and this Unrivaled Super Hottie really doesn’t sound like he wants to be here. “Running a dungeon today… Hmm? Vanishing step? When did I say I’d teach it? Don’t falsely advertise my stream. Banning you.”
UwUWenzhou: Is my account name too undecipherable, Senior Ye? ^-^
TheMagician: @UwUWenzhou Please see yourself out the door.
TasteMyBlade69: @TheMagician fuck u big eye wang
OneInch: ; w ; Senior Ye, what is happening today?
TasteMyBlade69: @OneInch fuck u one inch dick
[TasteMyBlade69 has been banned. Reason: cyberbullying.]
Pale fingers slide back onto the keyboard. The streamer curls them to stretch. Even through the 72-dpi resolution and the terribly grainy black and white, there’s a very distinctive… feel? Whatever the case, Han Wenqing focuses on him far too much. And when the streamer speaks again, his voice registering sotto voce, something clicks in Han Wenqing’s brain.
“For thirty minutes only,” the streamer drawls out listlessly. “I took a tiring trip yesterday. Thank you, TheMagician. No need for more donations.”
Another barrage of poppers fills the screen, and the streamer lets out a light, airy laugh. Han Wenqing can recognize that voice anywhere.
“No, no need. UwUWenzhou, take your girlfriend out for a meal instead.”
It’s Ye Xiu, that janitor who he bumped into last night, the skinny twig who looked like he could snap with a blow of wind. And contrary to Unrivaled Super Hottie’s extremely lazy manner of speech, once he enters the game dungeon, his speed changes considerably.
His iron-clad knight waltzes through the high-level dungeon like it’s child’s play. The skill specialization is that of tank – no flashy moves, no lethal attacks, but Ye Xiu handles the boss mob effortlessly. He talks amidst the sounds of combat, “Triggering Black Wyvern Boss’s enraged state. The condition is two hundred consecutive combos and red health. The chances for hidden material drops are higher.”
He sweeps the dungeon clean. Ashes to dust. The swamp becomes a playground of carcasses.
Han Wenqing finds himself glued to the screen even at the last minute of the stream, when Unrivaled Super Hottie mops the floor in an arena match. Effortless, just like his personality. The chat messages fly, and Han Wenqing recognizes a few diehard regulars.
zzkxxx: Unspecialized?
xxxzzktl: My colleague is asking if you plan to play your unspecialized character today.
EatMySword96: old ye old ye old ye old ye pk me with ur unspecialized pkpkpkpkpkpkpkp
[EatMySword96 has been banned. Reason: annoying.]
Han Wenqing raises a brow. It’s the first he’s heard of an unspecialized character – but well, professional players don’t often pay attention to in-game trivialities.
“Unspecialized?” Ye Xiu pauses in the middle of logging out. There’s an emotion Han Wenqing cannot discern in the streamer’s voice. “…Alright. I suppose I have a bit of time today. What do you want to see?”
One minute later, a foreign character is logged on. A red scarf glides with the wind; steel-like armor glints underneath a radiant sky; Lord Grim steps on Glory soil like he would a red carpet. The terribly clashing outfit, however, only shows just how strikingly Ye Xiu plays.
The silver umbrella mimics the fortitude of a fist, sharpness of a blade, lethality of a lance, and Han Wenqing is very, very certain of who he is. Perhaps it isn’t very obvious to anyone besides Han Wenqing, though.
There is a certain beauty in the way One Autumn Leaf plays. It is the crudest, most cutting style, but the opponents speared on the tips of his lance would catch a glimpse of a smile. Predatory but absolutely breathtaking.
Lord Grim and One Autumn Leaf. The connection is stinging in Han Wenqing’s mind. But the one behind the current One Autumn Leaf is a dumb brat, when the rightful owner is here in full competency.
Oh, Han Wenqing will see to finding out why.
His pulse spikes in adrenaline, and before he knows it, he’s done something very strange.
[Sullen Kitten sent you a friend request.]
The words pop up on Lord Grim’s screen. The streamer pauses for a bit before continuing to snap a goblin’s bones in half. Han Wenqing purses his lips and tries again.
[Sullen Kitten sent you a friend request.]
[Sullen Kitten sent you a friend request.]
Ye Xiu sighs, the poor-quality microphone picking up static noise. “No spamming, or I’ll close off friend requests again.”
Unfortunate. Han Wenqing is not one to be deterred so easily. He creates an account on this streaming platform that is one-hundred percent not targeted to boomers like himself.
SullenKitten: Accept my request.
SullenKitten: You’ll regret it otherwise.
Alright, it definitely came off a lot more foreboding than intended. The live chat floods with colorful curses (‘who the fuck are you, meow meow, to harass our god?’). But unexpectedly, the streamer lets out a low chuckle. The sound travels prettily to Han Wenqing’s ears, the effects coursing to his cheeks, then down south.
“…” Han Wenqing pulls off one side of his headphones and rubs his ears. “…What the fuck…”
The streamer speaks again, and Captain Han immediately readjusts his headphones properly.
“How scary,” Ye Xiu says with a tiny hitch in his syllables. It hints of tease. “Alright, Sullen Kitten, don’t be so upset. I wouldn’t want you to be after my life, so we may settle our debts in game.”
---
Ye Xiu laughs.
It is obvious, really, that this is Han Wenqing. If first impressions didn’t give it away, then his matter of speech, his aggression, his absolutely wrecking playstyle definitely give it away. Han Wenqing is really trying to hint to him, under the hilarious guise of Sullen Kitten, that he is ‘Han Wenqing, pro player, god-level player, Captain of Tyranny.’
They run a dungeon together, in which they grinded everything to dust. The stream viewers are shocked; even his regular watchers have started a war on who the man is, and how much they’d pummel him to the arena grounds.
UwUWenzhou: This playstyle is familiar.
TheMagician: Indeed.
My69thSword: fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck who the fuck is he fuckfuck arena room 9420 meet me next door
…
Ye Xiu takes a sip of water and watches as Sullen Kitten carries him through the rest of the dungeon map. The swamp slushes beneath their feet, but Lord Grim remains fixed in one location, leaning idly against the wall. The umbrella weapon dips downward, the tip sinking in muddied waters.
In his idle, his striker partner sends one private message.
Sullen Kitten: Continue?
Ye Xiu pauses, a cigarette stick dangling between the tips of his fingers. Stinging pain runs from his fingers down to wrists, burning the entirety of his forearm. There’s a slight tremble to his movements that reflect onto Lord Grim, the unspecialized avatar tilting back and forth in strange motions.
“Ending the stream,” Ye Xiu says in an exhale of smoke. “I’ll be busy for a while, but see you next time.”
TheMagician: Have a good rest today.
OneInch: Byebye, Senior Ye!
My69thSword: old ye old ye old ye old ye notice me notice me
RightHandOfGod: fuck, already? missed ur stream bc i was on the run
UwUWenzhou: Take care of yourself, Senior Ye ^-^
zzkxxx: Love.
xxxzzktl: My colleague wishes to convey that he is in love.
xxxzzktl: With your streams.
…
When the livestream ends, Lord Grim is still standing in a swamp field with Sullen Kitten, who has most definitely caught onto a few irregularities. For one, Ye Xiu has started slacking halfway through the scenario, leaving the bulkier mobs to the striker. Ten minutes in, Ye Xiu has started cutting down the unspecialized repertoire of skills, opting to use simple heals and long-range casts.
His health points have dropped to yellow.
Sullen Kitten activates voice chat, and a gruff-sounding, no-nonsense male voice echoes in the swamp. “A hand speed of 764 and you’re cast aside for the likes of that brat?”
Ye Xiu’s room is dark. He sits on an old swivel chair that is as rundown as the rest of this apartment complex. To Ye Xiu, it hardly matters whether the living space is a penthouse or a warehouse, so long as he can stay. Blue light dithers off the computer screen, casting crystalline flecks down his cheeks.
There is no décor here, unless the cardboard boxes count. To the side, placed with utmost neatness on his desk, is a photo frame. Two young teens stand smiling with a younger sister.
Ye Xiu massages his hands and replies lightheartedly, “Captain Han, do you watch me? It must be why you were so interested when we first met.”
“As if.” A cold snort. Talking to Han Wenqing is like talking to an angry old man with a gun. “Why don’t you go pro? And I mean within spotlight.”
“Sold my account,” Ye Xiu says. “Have you heard of One Autumn Leaf?”
“…” Talking to Han Wenqing is quite entertaining too. Ye Xiu could imagine the scowl on his face. “How much?”
“Enough to pay the bills.”
“Ye Xiu.” The man talks like he’s attending Ye Xiu’s funeral. The contents of the eulogy, however, are a bit strange. “I want you.”
Ye Xiu blinks his eyes.
Well, that was unexpected.
---
In his team, Han Wenqing meant. It’s recruiting season. The words came out very, very differently than intended.
Han Wenqing reflects on his social incompetency.
But now, as he stares at Ye Xiu’s contact information on his phone, Han Wenqing is uncertain what had happened. Ye Xiu is a very nice name. The digits of his cellphone are very nice too. But who in the right mind would include a goddamn address as well?
Is this an invitation? And if so, was Ye Xiu inviting him over to settle a past vengeance? Inviting him over for conversation at dinnertime, for a date, or…?
Han Wenqing’s ears flare red.
---
“…so if you take advantage of i-frames, there’s a split window you can use to step backward. Follow up with a dashing jab. You have to make up the distance, of course, but you know all this.”
Ye Xiu’s posture is slightly slouched. His fingers dance along the keyboard, tapping well past 300 beats a minute. He’s on low energy mode though, and he’s dressed in winter pajamas despite it being a swelteringly hot evening. He turns away from the desk at the finishing combo, and swivels his chair to face Han Wenqing.
“Tao Xuan would pay me some thousands a month to coach his golden cash cow, but I’m doing this free of charge for you, Sullen Kitten.” Ye Xiu rests his head on one arm, half of his face pressed lazily against the back of the chair. “I do expect some acts of gratitude, and what a pity you hadn’t come here with food.”
Reiterated, it’s a swelteringly hot summer evening, and two young men are spending it in the confines of Ye Xiu’s apartment building. The place looks like it’s been run over by a hurricane. It’s too small for one person, even, and Han Wenqing had struggled to fit himself in. Hence why the older man is crammed in between cardboard boxes, shelves, cluttered junk… and also hence why the both of them are in suspiciously close proximity.
Moonlight trickles in through the half-drawn window shades. Ye Xiu’s tea-colored eyes take the hue of gold. He smiles, and they take the shape of crescents to match.
“Captain Han, have you not been listening?”
Han Wenqing, being the most amazing conversation partner there is, looks at Ye Xiu like he’s disposable trash. “One Autumn Leaf,” the man nearly barks out. “Is that you?”
Han Wenqing looks angry. Ye Xiu squints.
Oh, he changes his mind. It’s just Han Wenqing’s default face.
“Ye Xiu,” the younger man introduces himself once more with a lift of his brows. “Other times, I go by Ye Qiu. Is there anything more I can do for you?”
“Did you really invite me here to share a meal with you?”
“Captain Han,” Ye Xiu replies with characteristic laziness, “do you have another proposal for a good time?”
Han Wenqing sighs and picks up a large plastic bag. “I did bring food.” He places the takeout containers neatly on the computer desk. “Chinese takeout. It’s only because I notice you’re the size of a shrimp.”
Ye Xiu laughs. “Sullen Kitten, you’re much more of a gentleman than I’d expected.”
“Don’t call me that,” Han Wenqing replies, his face twitching comically. “It’s a club account.”
Ye Xiu eats just as lazily as he does anything else that isn’t Glory. Han Wenqing opts to sit on the edge of the adjacent bed (the only seat available) and… watch him eat. What a strange atmosphere – dinnertime with an almost-stranger Ye Xiu invited to his own home. The stranger seems ten times more uncomfortable than the homeowner is.
Ye Xiu is more than just relaxed. After two bites, he lets out a quiet yawn. “Alright, go home now.”
Han Wenqing does not look amused. “I traveled three hours to get here.”
“H City isn’t very big on tourist destinations,” Ye Xiu says as he stretches his limbs. Light stings are felt on his wrists, but he hides the pain without so much of a hitch. “It’s too bad the night life isn’t very active here, but I suppose there are KTV clubs down the district. Other diversions include, hm, cinemas, amusement parks… Ferris wheel?”
“Cut the crap.” Han Wenqing ends the mundane conversation. He gets up from the bed, his brows angled so far down they might merge. “I don’t know what Excellent Era is doing, Ye Xiu, but you should know it is illegal to not announce the players in an official match. Should I remind you it is a championship match? The penalty is severe. You’ll be kicked from the scene, and the brat Sun Xiang is in no better position.”
Ye Xiu is in the same uncaring position, slouched on the chair.
“You’re jumping to conclusions,” he says. “Excellent Era never confirmed it was Sun Xiang who played, despite the articles who think otherwise. Today is his debut stage, that’s all. I get paid to perform, and I did perform.”
He waves a hand. “You can recheck the roster later. ‘Ye Qiu’ is listed as a valid substitute player. Tao Xuan has his ways, but well, some people have already picked up on the inconsistencies of One Autumn Leaf in the game. But of course, no confirmations. I tried to match Sun Xiang’s style as much as I could, anyway.”
“With an APM of 764?” Han Wenqing snorts coldly, now walking closer. His footsteps thud in the emptiness of the room. “Were you playing aggressively on purpose?”
The floor tiles creak, and Han Wenqing is suddenly less than an inch away from him, his delinquent face hovered so closely that Ye Xiu can make out peach fuzz. The man scents of aftershave and woody cologne.
Han Wenqing juts a finger onto his chest. “You want to be noticed.”
Ye Xiu’s lips curl up. “Desert Dust, are you that upset you lost to me for the third time?”
Really, Ye Xiu is no stranger to confrontation, but neither is Han Wenqing. The man hoists him up by his shirt collar, one muscular arm lifting him up and off his feet.
“Stop playing around and accept my invitation already,” the man snarls like the feral dog he is. “Join Tyranny. It’ll be better for someone of your skill level.”
Ye Xiu is unbothered. “You’re also not allowed to say a word about my substitution, Han Wenqing. The one in trouble will be me.”
“Why?”
“Hmm… contract problems?” Ye Xiu gestures for him to let go. “I can’t play professionally anyway.”
“And why is that?”
Ye Xiu gives a light hum. When he regains his footing, he dusts off the lint on his hoodie and changes the topic completely. “Captain Sun was injured, and a substitute player took over in his stead. That’s the excuse if they’re ever revealed. It’s on the gray line of legality, but we did have a contract signed, and stipulations covered.”
He continues, “Of course, Tao Xuan’s public relations team will deal with all negativity and slander. By the time the truth comes out, Sun Xiang will be a seasoned pro player who can genuinely prove his worth. In a few years’ time, he will surpass my skill with One Autumn Leaf.”
Han Wenqing snorts. “Doubtful.”
“Don’t bully the young, Captain Han,” Ye Xiu says teasingly. “He does have potential.”
“He’s arrogant.”
Ye Xiu smirks.
He’s catlike in the way he talks, moves, acts. A simple smirk on him adds layers of complexity to his character. Ye Xiu is quite average in looks – but a keen-eyed soul would catch true beauty in his poise. Thin eyelids that curve alongside his bowed lips, long lashes hidden under hooded lids, high-tipped nose that is just short of the industry standard of perfection.
There is no perfection to him, but the way he carries himself has power in every way.
“Arrogant?” he murmurs, tiptoeing to see Han Wenqing face-to-face. “And I am not?”
Han Wenqing stiffens in place and does not reply.
“I’ll ask, Captain Han,” Ye Xiu drawls out, his breaths lingering closely to the man’s flushed ears. “Did you really come here to share a meal with me?”
---
Upon closer inspection, Han Wenqing notices all these little details.
Such as, the color of Ye Xiu’s skin is some hue between vampire and pale porcelain, like he hasn’t caught a single dip of sunlight in the last decade and a half.
Such as, Ye Xiu’s tea-colored eyes sparkle at the sight of Han Wenqing, and Han Wenqing isn’t quite sure why – not until Ye Xiu actively rubs himself against his side. The young man’s lips are more upturned when he speaks.
“Arrogant?” There is a purposeful lilt to his syllables. Pale fingers reach to turn off the computer monitor, and Glory’s login screen no longer reflects off his vampiric features. Ye Xiu drapes an arm around Han Wenqing’s shoulder, the phantom of a smile ever-present. “And I am not?”
He is, and Han Wenqing would like to fix that.
Han Wenqing stares a while too long at the shape of his lips. The color of them is a bit too pale, but they do look smooth, and Han Wenqing wonders how they’d look rosed and bitten, rubbed indecent. Han Wenqing also wonders how Ye Xiu looks like underneath the ten full layers of clothes. The temperature is over 30 degrees Celsius, but the young man is having a great time without air conditioning.
Han Wenqing, on the other hand, feels his tank top sticking against his skin.
And are these thoughts showing on his face? Because if not, why else would Ye Xiu be carrying a shit-eating grin, looking up at them through fluttering lashes?
“I’ll ask, Captain Han,” Ye Xiu drawls out, tiptoeing so his lips could graze against Han Wenqing’s ears that have been flushed for the past hour. “Did you really come here to share a meal with me?”
Well, what an invitation.
Something in Han Wenqing snaps – it’s the last thread of patience, and fuck, how difficult it was for him to stay calm in front of this overly arrogant asshole. One Autumn Leaf, the same person who had pummeled his striker onto the ground, is this skinny twig right in front of him.
Han Wenqing’s arms shoot forward. He grabs Ye Xiu by the waist – lifts him up with no effort, really – and throws him down the too-small bed. It’s where Ye Xiu belongs – underneath Han Wenqing, that is. Light brown eyes widen in slight incredulity, and Ye Xiu bounces twice on the mattress before Han Wenqing pins him down.
“Is it fun to tease me?” Han Wenqing practically growls out, slamming a fist downward, purposefully missing the younger man’s head by a harrowing inch. “I will see to shutting you up.”
Ye Xiu blinks slowly – once, twice – before raising both hands in surrender. “…Wow,” he says a while later, still just as composed. “Sullen Kitten, I can see why the Alliance is scared of you. If it weren’t for your mildly handsome looks, I’d think you’re trying to beat me up behind closed doors and—”
Han Wenqing crashes their lips together.
It’s a forceful liplock – all teeth and sloppy slides, Han Wenqing biting those lips raw and red. Ye Xiu reciprocates lazily, as though he had expected this (of course he did anyway, him being a master tactician and all). Han Wenqing had to give a cold snort, before diving in deeper, slipping in a tongue, curling against Ye Xiu’s teeth.
Han Wenqing does not pride himself in being a good kisser. He’s not gentle with his advances, not merciful either, when he begins to slide a hand up Ye Xiu’s undershirt. “Get these clothes off,” he grunts out, his syllables thickening with fever and more. “Why the fuck are you wearing ten shirts during summertime?”
“Two shirts and one sweater,” Ye Xiu corrects, raising a hand to slide up Han Wenqing’s tank top in imitation. “Well, no rush, Captain Han,” he continues, lazily stroking rows of muscles, feeling their dents against his pretty fingers. “Be gentle with me. You’re my first.”
Han Wenqing snorts. “Bullshit.”
Luring him into this rundown apartment building? Inviting him inside the bedroom, and onto a bed that’s hardly big enough for one? Who knows how many he had lured in with a siren’s maiden song. If Ye Xiu is a virgin, Han Wenqing will gladly give up his left nut.
The impatient Han Wenqing starts stripping off the younger man’s clothes, first unzipping the hoodie, then pulling off his sweater vest, then ripping the buttons off that dress shirt. To hell with being gentle, when Ye Xiu is opting to lie back down and enjoy the process.
With a cold huff, Han Wenqing throws a full weekend’s laundry onto the uncleaned floors. “You’re driving me fucking insane,” he snarls, leaning down to lick on a pale patch of skin. He enjoys the way Ye Xiu shivers under his touch. “Do you always act like this?”
“Like how?” Ye Xiu breathes out, his back arching backward. Han Wenqing would like to see just how flexible he is. Every stroke against that fair maiden body has Ye Xiu jolting in need. The young man doesn’t seem to have worked out a single day in his life, but he’s skinny enough for muscles to form. Flat stomach, thin waist, a very tight body that Han Wenqing would like to break very, very much.
“Like this,” Han Wenqing replies, grazing his teeth across a flushed nipple. “Offering yourself like this. Luring every man to sleep with you.”
Simultaneously, impatiently, his hand does a smooth glide downward, dipping underneath Ye Xiu’s trousers, cupping the full of Ye Xiu’s ass. Han Wenqing gives a low hum of approval. “Condoms and lube?”
“You haven’t brought any, Captain Han? Even though I’ve laid my intentions thick?” Ye Xiu replies, still so composed, and oh, Han Wenqing would like to fix that. “Drawer.”
Rows upon rows of rubber come into view, alongside an assortment of very interesting items – vibrators, light cuffs, binds, cock rings. Han Wenqing gives the young man a look that screams volumes, but Ye Xiu returns the look with a small teasing smile of his own.
But already, Ye Xiu has opted to sit up from the bed and crawl his way forward – half-naked and flushed. Then, in the time Han Wenqing has warmed lubed in between his fingers, Ye Xiu is calmly unzipping Han Wenqing’s damned pants, cupping a pretty palm against his forming bulge.
“Would you like me to suck you off?” Ye Xiu murmurs, his voice practically dripping of eros. It’s the way he says it that catches Han Wenqing off guard, each syllable rolled smoothly off his pretty tongue. “I’ll do a good job.”
Fuck. Han Wenqing would like that very much, yes.
So sue him if he allows Ye Xiu to tug his erection free. The young man takes his sweet time with the rubber condom, rolling it in an unhurried manner around his engorged shaft. Slender fingers wrap around his cock. Ye Xiu is just as infuriatingly slow with the blowjob as he is in his daily mannerisms – kittenish licks, light sucks, small hums that vibrate at the tip.
Han Wenqing will learn to not trust Ye Xiu again. Warmth envelops him, but he is shorted over and over again. Losing every ounce of patience, Han Wenqing grabs a fistful of Ye Xiu’s hair, and thrusts deeply into that sinful mouth.
Ye Xiu takes it rather well at first – though after some seconds more, his lips are rubbed raw and red. His eyes are scrunched, teary; his lashes catch onto droplets, reflected amber-yellow by the nightlight. Han Wenqing is, well, quite merciless, and it must be noted that he is very well-endowed.
Ye Xiu strains to take the erection fully in his mouth. The tip presses against the back of his throat, and he chokes, unable to bear. Han Wenqing feels shaky fingers gripping onto his muscular thigh, and it is only with some prompting that he stops his merciless thrusts.
Ye Xiu slides off with a low gasp, his lips smeared with saliva and lubricant. His vampiric features glow in the dark, and on his cheeks is a blossoming flush. Finally.
“—Captain Han,” he says coarsely (how nice it is to see him debauched), “I suppose the rumors are true.”
“Rumors?” Han Wenqing is already pulling off his own shirt and pushing the younger man back down onto the bed. “What is going on inside that head of yours?”
Ye Xiu is still taking short breaths. “The rumors that you fuck just like how you fight.”
At that, Han Wenqing has to stifle a laugh. “Well, I suppose you can find out yourself.”
---
Han Wenqing really lost all self-control.
Ye Xiu’s face is pressed against a pillow stained full of sweat. The bedsheets are crumpled beneath his bare body, linen fabric gathered by his bent knees. His ears take the same color as his cheeks, and his cheeks mirror the countless red marks on his skin. From collarbone to down, the love bites adorn like pretty accessories.
Ye Xiu’s hips are lifted. There is no second of rest before an engorged member rubs along his rim, and slams inside heatedly, drilling all the way up to the hilt. Ye Xiu – at the moment, the only sounds out of his mouth are low moans, pained gasps, pretty purrs of Han Wenqing’s name.
“—ah—Captain Han—" His back arches; his entire body shakes to receive more. Han Wenqing is a beast in human form, Ye Xiu had come to realize tonight as he’s fucked senseless onto the mattress. “Slow—slowly—"
“How are you still so—” the man growls, slotting himself deeper, “fucking tight.”
An explosive hit to his prostate has him seeing in inkblots, and Ye Xiu tells to slow, but begs for more. “Han… Wenqing,” he rolls the name off his tongue like honey, “you’re very… nn… aggressive, hm…?”
He gets a bite on his ear in return. “I promised you wouldn’t move for a week,” Han Wenqing growls, “so stay put under me, and spread your legs.”
Wow. Ye Xiu didn’t expect the dirty talk (he wouldn’t admit, either, that it sends flaming signals down south), but he obeys, spreading himself wider to receive. He doesn’t get to speak before Han Wenqing picks him up and bounces him on top of two thick thighs. In this position, the intrusion prods deeper, harder, much weightier than before, and the sensation has Ye Xiu positively shutting up.
‘As you should,’ Han Wenqing told him, not easing on the thrusts at all. ‘Wanted to fuck you like this, fuck you so hard you wouldn’t say anything else out of that pretty mouth of yours.’
Ye Xiu likes a challenge anyway.
“Sullen Kitten,” he purrs out as he’s on top of Han Wenqing’s cock, “you’re in love with me, aren’t you?”
“You are in love with me,” the man says, absolutely guttural. “Why else have you invited me here?”
“—Hm,” Ye Xiu gasps out, feeling the prominent bulge in his belly. Sweat trickles from collarbones to down, mixing with the semen on his skin. Han Wenqing has the fiercest grip on his waist, and no doubt, the fingerprints would be left for days. “—Why don’t you find out?”
It is extremely easy, really, to rile up Han Wenqing. Be it a product of his striker mind, Han Wenqing does not take kindly to teasing nor lighthearted jokes. Ye Xiu is manhandled, forced to take in ruthless slaps against his skin; and the sounds forced out of him are foreign even to his own ears. He climaxes at a particularly cruel thrust, his body shaking and spasming in the aftermath.
He’s whining slightly as he’s placed on his back, the pillow cushioning his fall.
“…Not done yet?” he asks, staring up with hazed eyes. The night lamp casts a healthy flush on his skin. Ye Xiu looks absolutely wrecked, his black hair curled in all directions. Wispy strands fall against the pillow.
“Would you like me to be done?” Han Wenqing asks, leaning down and taking ahold of Ye Xiu’s wrists. It’s Han Wenqing who flashes a smirk this time, his lips curling up handsomely. “Can’t keep up, One Autumn Leaf?”
Ye Xiu’s wrists are bound by the headboard; but Han Wenqing was a little too rough. He feels a painful pull of his tendons. It is the slightest flinch, the slightest quiver of his lips that gives anything away, and Han Wenqing immediately releases him.
The man stares, his brows knitted, his eyes eaglelike. He drags a calloused finger alongside Ye Xiu’s carpal bone, pressing testingly at all the sore spots. “What’s wrong with your wrists?”
“Injury,” Ye Xiu responds matter-of-factly, not an ounce of care in his tone. “It was long ago.”
“How?”
“Car accident?” He says it like an inquiry. Lighthearted.
“You can’t play professionally because of this?”
“Once in a while is fine.”
Han Wenqing looks at him – is that concern on that perpetually angry face? Ye Xiu can’t tell as of yet. But amber colors really do go well with the man’s skin tone, the flickering lamp adding extra sophistication to his character. He’s magnificent, as Desert Dust is.
Ye Xiu stifles a yawn, his senses dulled from post-coital.
“Will you continue or not?” Ye Xiu asks, raising a hand up, lazily tracing up golden eight-pack abs. Han Wenqing is well-endowed in many aspects, it seems. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
---
A light ping stirs Han Wenqing awake.
There’s warmth at his side and it takes the form of a sleeping Ye Xiu – naked, flushed, curled up by his chest like a small animal. The room scents heavily of air fresheners, musk, and a hint of mint. Ye Xiu had passed out last night after one too many rounds, and yes, Han Wenqing is very much proud of that. The aftercare was no hassle but…
Morning with Ye Xiu by his side is foreign.
Slivers of sunlight peek through the window shades. Sunrise lights the terribly-cluttered bedroom in shades of gold. Han Wenqing hadn’t taken the time to observe his surroundings the night before – he was, needless to say, very preoccupied. Now that he takes a closer look, the place seriously lacks personality.
It’s a home rented from the shadiest online marketplace, stacked to the brim with junk from (inferred) the landowners previously. Boxes to the side, shelves racking up in dust, a single chair, and then a desk with (now confirmed) the lowest budget streaming gear. To think One Autumn Leaf is living in a dump like this… Han Wenqing has mixed sentiments.
Well, actually, the place lacks personality except for a few spots – Ye Xiu isn’t one for clutter, but he is one to not care the slightest about home décor. Ye Xiu also doesn’t seem to be one to care for sentimentality either, so Han Wenqing is caught rather off guard at the one item on his desk.
A photo frame, placed neatly to the side of the computer monitor. It’s of a young girl and two young teenagers – Ye Xiu being one of them, with his signature relaxed smile, hands tucked into his jacket, casualness to his posture.
Han Wenqing sits up from the bed (takes a moment too long to stare at Ye Xiu’s sleeping face because, fuck, isn’t he quite cute now that Han Wenqing focuses on the little things, like the long lashes casting shadows down his cheeks, his high-tipped nose, his lips parted for a subconscious hum—).
Now isn’t the time to allow his thoughts to be led astray, however, when he hears a light ping again. The sound comes from Ye Xiu’s smartphone that’s thrown sloppily by the pillow.
Han Wenqing is just trying to check the time, of course, and no way is he immature enough to spy on someone else’s mobile device like a possessive hound boyfriend, and no way is he immature enough to bypass the (lack of) lock screen and read the incoming messages.
He lied.
SuMuMu: ye xiuuu
Han Wenqing’s eyebrows take a sharp climb up.
Not at this particular morning message, but at the ones just before. They were typed by Ye Xiu himself and sent only a few hours prior.
YeXiu: you’re right
YeXiu: han wenqing has an eight-pack
YeXiu: he says he’ll pay for my transfer to tyranny, haha
SuMuMu: told you ;) he’ll get on his knees if you asked, hehe
SuMuMu: so what did you offer our captain han~~
…
Han Wenqing’s brows twitch. He vaguely remembers that last night, he did propose an offer to transfer. There was a conversation in between lewd noises.
…
YeXiu: my fair maiden body
YeXiu: i knew my virginity can be a weapon
…
Oh, Han Wenqing is pissed. Is he an ATM? He continues to scroll up furiously through the chat, his veins visibly popping up from his forehead.
…
YeXiu: i deposited the funds into your bank account
YeXiu: it should cover for muqiu’s care for a month
SuMuMu: and for your wrist surgery?
…
There wasn’t a response until an hour later.
YeXiu: it’s fine
…
Oh, Han Wenqing is pissed, and for a different reason.
---
“I’ve thought about it.”
Han Wenqing has Ye Xiu trapped on the bed. The headboard creaks against his weight. Han Wenqing is dressed, and Ye Xiu is not. The latter had just woken up.
It’s peak afternoon hours and Ye Xiu looks like he had run through a tropical storm. His hair is sticking up in all odd directions; his eyes are weighed down to dark circles; his body is marked in pinkish bites; and frankly, he looks just about ready to topple down and die.
“Your contract problems, that is,” Han Wenqing says, reaching inside his pockets to pull out a crisp leather wallet. It reeks of designer. “You are in need of money.” He slips out a black card in between calloused fingers. “Hence I brought this.”
Ye Xiu blinks.
He talks a long moment later, not quite registering the situation. “…Is this a bribery, Captain Han?”
“It’s an exchange,” Han Wenqing says, holding the card obnoxiously close to the other’s face. “Yes or no?”
Ye Xiu is in a state of contemplation. Never had Han Wenqing seen One Autumn Leaf in such a deeply pensive state – the battlemage is always, always one step ahead, standing like a king on the field, poised in his rightful throne. But come to think of it, Ye Xiu is younger than him in reality. Han Wenqing should have the power here.
He should, but he’s become familiar with Ye Xiu’s catlike nature, his mannerisms, his arrogance… and then there’s the characteristic laziness Han Wenqing can never unlearn.
The young man laughs, an airy little sound, before springing up and pushing Han Wenqing onto the bed. In a sudden display of boldness (and power), Ye Xiu climbs on top of him, slides a hand under Han Wenqing’s pants…
And then drawls out, “Well, what can I do for you?”