SITS CH52

Chapter 52: Together

Slamming the birthday cake onto the table in fury, the boss declared: “Starting tomorrow, I’m adding a strict ban on office romances to the club’s rulebook!”

Zhao Rui murmured darkly: “Boss, if you add a rule like that, will anyone even dare join our ACE?”

The boss choked on her words.

Fair point. Adding a clause like that screamed guilty conscience; what esports club on earth prohibited office romances? It was a rule that grew more terrifying the harder one thought about it.

“Then what am I supposed to do?!” the boss wailed.

Zhao Rui said, “If they’re dating, let them date. Are you really going to strip people of their freedom to love?”

The boss eyed Zhao Rui with deep suspicion: “Zhao Rui, hearing you talk like that makes me suspicious. Don’t tell me you’re dating someone too?”

Zhao Rui lifted his chin proudly: “Hmph, I happen to be dating someone super pretty!”

The boss felt a wave of doom wash over her. Somehow, the thought of Zhao Rui dating felt even more horrifying than Xu Zhouye and Shen Man getting together. ACE winning the World Championship should have been a joyous occasion, yet this barrage of shocks gave her the distinct hallucination that her club’s days were numbered.

“Dating isn’t a big deal,” the boss said grimly. “The real problem is, what happens if they date and then break up?”

Zhao Rui said, “Then they break up.”

The boss pressed: “If Xu Zhouye and Shen Man date, get into a fight, and split up, tell me—will Xu Zhouye still be willing to body-block ultimates for Shen Man?”

Zhao Rui: “…”

The boss continued: “Will Shen Man still be willing to funnel minion waves to Xu Zhouye?”

Zhao Rui: “…”

The boss said, “Tell me—”

“Alright, alright,” Shen Man grew irritated. “Shut up. We’re not dating.”

The boss let out a breath of relief—though that breath hadn’t even fully left her lungs before Shen Man tacked on: “If we do start dating later, you’ll be the first to know.”

Boss: “????”

Outside the room, a waiter knocked cautiously on the door and poked his head in: “Excuse me, should we start serving the dishes?”

Shen Man said, “Bring them in.”

Once the food arrived, everyone finally returned from comedic melodrama back to reality.

Two large banquet tables filled the private room as more guests arrived one after another—mostly close friends of Shen Man’s, along with a few acquaintances of the boss.

With over twenty people gathered, the atmosphere was lively and warm.

Thanks to his rascal teammates’ theatrical stunts, Shen Man’s seat was positioned right beside a cascading waterfall of red roses. With him and Xu Zhouye seated side by side, onlookers couldn’t shake the urge to offer congratulations to the newlyweds.

Shen Man sat there expressionlessly. Everyone knew his temperament well; those less familiar only dared offer brief greetings. Truth be told, sitting there with a stony face really did make him seem unapproachable…

Which conveniently spared him a great deal of social hassle.

In stark contrast, Xu Zhouye beside him looked like a bright, sunny golden boy, capable of striking up a lively chat with anyone.

Written across the massive cake were both of their names, crowned by four candles forming the numbers 19 and 22.

“Happy birthday to you~ Happy birthday to you~” In the darkened room, candlelight flickered with a warm glow as Shen Man and Xu Zhouye closed their eyes to make their wishes.

Exchanging a quick glance, they lowered their heads in unison, blowing out the candles with effortless synchronization.

After dinner, cutting the cake, and taking group photos, the party wrapped up. Though Shen Man voiced no complaints, Xu Zhouye easily picked up on the signs that his social battery was completely drained.

Leave? Xu Zhouye blinked meaningfully at Shen Man.

Having set his chopsticks down long ago to scroll through his phone, Shen Man caught Xu Zhouye’s signal, nodded, and stood up.

Bidding farewell to the boss, the two slipped quietly out the door.

By the time they returned to the base, night had fallen. Yawning as he walked toward the entrance, Shen Man paused when Xu Zhouye suddenly halted, smiling: “Ge, Happy Birthday.”

“Mm, happy birthday,” Shen Man replied.

“Did you forget something?” Xu Zhouye asked.

“Forget what?” Shen Man drew a blank.

Xu Zhouye said, “Forgot that I still haven’t given you your birthday gift.”

Shen Man truly hadn’t remembered. With so many guests and piles of presents, he hadn’t bothered unwrapping any of them, simply tossing the whole lot into his car trunk.

“So what did you get me?” Shen Man asked.

Reaching slowly into his backpack, Xu Zhouye pulled out a bound notebook and handed it to Shen Man.

Taking it, Shen Man realized it was a photo album. He didn’t think much of it until he flipped open the very first page.

On that first page, he saw a young boy clutching a trophy, beaming with a radiant smile.

That boy was fourteen-year-old Shen Man.

Everyone assumed the very first trophy Shen Man ever hoisted was the HCC Summer Championship years ago.

Yet nobody knew that long before that, he had once lifted a trophy in an entirely different tournament.

It was a tiny internet cafe tournament—so insignificant that virtually no one remembered it—yet only Shen Man knew that this minor competition had rewritten the trajectory of his life.

At fourteen, Shen Man’s grandmother had passed away suddenly, shattering his otherwise peaceful existence.

Unable to reach Lu Ni, and aided by kind neighbors, Shen Man had handled his grandmother’s funeral arrangements entirely on his own.

From that day onward, the home others yearned for became the place he feared most.

He was terrified—terrified that pushing open the front door would replay that nightmare, forcing him to see the person he loved most lying cold and unfamiliar on the floor.

With nowhere else to turn, Shen Man wandered into an internet cafe.

Back then, internet cafes weren’t strictly regulated, and students sneaking in to play was commonplace.

Sitting down at a terminal, Shen Man clicked open the icon for Heart of the Wasteland for the very first time, unlocking a brand-new door in his life.

Some gifts, if not granted at birth, could never be acquired in a lifetime—talent was precisely such a thing.

Fourteen-year-old Shen Man spent a single month learning the game’s mechanics; within three months, he climbed into the top ten of the premier CN Server 1.

At the time, going pro had never crossed his mind; he only knew the game allowed him to immerse himself completely, drowning out agonizing memories he couldn’t let go of.

A few days before his birthday, Shen Man was abruptly flagged down by the attendant at his regular internet cafe. She was a pretty young woman who blinked her large eyes and waved him over.

Walking up to the counter, he was handed a printed flyer.

Printed on the sheet was an advertisement for a local internet cafe tournament.

“Kid, you’re so cracked at the game—want to enter a tournament?” the attendant asked. She knew Shen Man well; every day the moment he logged in, the cafe’s automated system announced over the speakers: Terminal 56 is now active—welcoming Legendary player ranked #6 on Server 1: Holy Light City! Enjoy your gaming! Inevitably, every customer in the room would crane their necks to stare at seat 56.

The apex tier on each server was capped strictly at 199 players; for one person to climb in, another had to be knocked out, making the rank extraordinarily prestigious—especially on the fiercely competitive Server 1.

Over time, everyone in the cafe knew there was a kid who played at a godlike level.

“There’s a two-thousand-yuan cash prize,” the attendant said. “If you want in, I’ll register you.”

Pinching the flyer between his fingers, Shen Man stayed silent for a moment before nodding: “I’ll play.”

Thus, she submitted Shen Man’s name onto the roster.

It was hardly a formal competition. Tossing together a pickup team, Shen Man dismantled the bracket with overwhelming skill, effortlessly claiming first place.

On the day they won, the internet cafe hosted a modest award ceremony.

It was a cheap, flimsy plastic trophy. Standing among his teammates, fourteen-year-old Shen Man stood on tiptoe to hoist it alongside them.

Sparse applause echoed around the room. Sweeping his gaze across the crowd, in a momentary daze, Shen Man caught sight of a familiar silhouette standing in the corner. He couldn’t stop himself from calling out: “Waipo—”

Naturally, no voice answered. Snapping back to reality and staring at the empty corner, Shen Man tightened his grip around the plastic trophy.

He suddenly remembered that today was his birthday. If only waipo were still here…

If only…

That night, Shen Man finally gathered the courage to return home.

Inside the hollow, silent apartment, everything sat unchanged. Sitting on the sofa and staring at the bare floorboards, he finally broke into choked sobs. The thin, solitary boy wept alone, his tears falling into the hollow cup of the plastic trophy, pooling like bitter wine.

This was the story of fourteen-year-old Shen Man—a story in which his solitary shadow stood alone from start to finish. As years slipped past, those memories had gradually blurred; Shen Man had never imagined that one day, someone would lay this forgotten chapter right before his eyes.

The boy in the photograph smiled with youthful greenness, lifting the trophy of honor with both hands. Though the image quality was grainy, it couldn’t hide his pure joy. Back then, he had no way of knowing this marked the dawn of his destiny.

Shen Man stared at the photograph for so long that Xu Zhouye grew slightly nervous before he finally spoke in a soft voice: “Where did you get this?”

Xu Zhouye said, “Take a guess?”

Too lazy to guess, Shen Man merely fixed his eyes on Xu Zhouye.

Rubbing his nose, Xu Zhouye admitted: “Tracked down the owner of that internet cafe and asked for it.”

Shen Man asked, “The cafe owner? How did you even know about this?” The tournament had been minuscule; barely a handful of people knew it existed. How on earth had Xu Zhouye dug it up?

Xu Zhouye said, “That’s what you don’t know. You’re actually famous back in your hometown. Right outside the internet cafe where you won, they still have a giant poster of you hanging up.”

Shen Man: “…”

“And I happened to strike up a chat with the owner,” Xu Zhouye continued. “The owner started bragging about your history. I told him I didn’t believe it, so he insisted on pulling out this photo to prove himself…”

Shen Man raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t an idiot; Xu Zhouye made it sound effortless, yet nothing in the world fell into place that conveniently. First, how had Xu Zhouye known which internet cafe he had won at? Second, how had he just “happened” to bump into the owner and chat him up?

“Tell the truth,” Shen Man warned, unwilling to be brushed off. “Otherwise I’m treating you as a stalker.”

Realizing he hadn’t fooled him, Xu Zhouye scratched his head sheepishly: “Well, I looked up your old CN server ID…” Shen Man had used that exact ID back in the cafe tournament; fragments of match history could still be unearthed online, though almost no one knew that account belonged to Shen Man.

Shen Man let out an “Oh.” That made sense, though it raised another question: “How did you know my old ID?”

Xu Zhouye fell silent for a beat before muttering darkly: “Even if I tell you, you won’t remember.”

Shen Man said, “How do you know I won’t remember if you don’t tell me?”

Xu Zhouye said, “The year after you won that cafe tournament, on the night of February 18th… did you play a jungle game as Mad Hound on Server 1?”

Shen Man’s gaze drifted blankly.

Xu Zhouye flared up: “I knew you wouldn’t remember!”

Helpless, Shen Man sighed: “How could anyone remember a random game from years ago?”

Who on earth remembered a single match played years back?

Clearly reading Shen Man’s thoughts, Xu Zhouye snapped: “I REMEMBERED!!”

Shen Man: “Huh?”

Xu Zhouye said, “That day was a Saturday, the night right before my birthday. My mom let me play online for a bit, so I logged in and happily queued up for a match…”

He was playing Marksman in the bot lane that game, hoping to unwind and have fun—only to be brutally slaughtered six times in under ten minutes of laning.

Xu Zhouye was barely eleven years old at the time, having just entered middle school. The slaughter inflicted severe psychological trauma on his young soul. He held back at first, before finally breaking down, weeping uncontrollably at his monitor while trying to keep playing.

Before he could even wipe away his tears and snot, his screen went gray once more.

To make matters worse, his mother happened to be standing right behind him watching the spectacle, pouring salt straight into the wound by asking: “Son, why are you playing a black-and-white game now?”

That single question shattered young Xu Zhouye’s martial spirit completely.

Seething with a child’s grudge, he glared venomously at the enemy Jungler’s ID on screen—Little Snail—carving those two characters into his mind over and over, swearing he would remember this person for the rest of his life and never, ever forget.

A prophecy fulfilled in the most unexpected way.

Eleven-year-old Xu Zhouye never could have imagined how he would end up remembering him.

Years later, he discovered that Little Snail had gone pro under his real name, Shen Man, competing under the tag ACE.SLOW.

Xu Zhouye watched every single one of Shen Man’s broadcasts—initially praying to watch Shen Man lose. Yet the more he watched, the more his feelings shifted. The moment Shen Man stood atop the World Championship stage hoisting the trophy, sitting in the live arena, Xu Zhouye experienced the flutter of romantic infatuation for the very first time. Clutching his chest over a heart hammering wildly for Shen Man, he turned to his mother beside him and declared: “Mom, I’m going pro!”

As Xu Zhouye recounted the memory, Shen Man listened quietly beside him, not daring to utter a peep.

“See? I knew you wouldn’t remember,” Xu Zhouye accused the heartless culprit. “You have no idea how long I cried that night.”

Recalling Xu Zhouye’s terrifying mastery over Mad Hound, Shen Man briefly suspected he might accidentally deserve partial credit for forging that monster.

Faced with Xu Zhouye’s accusing stare, Shen Man calmly averted his gaze, continuing to flip through the album. There were eight photos in total, each looking vaguely familiar. Realizing something, he slipped one out and flipped it over. On the back was Xu Zhouye’s familiar handwriting: [Year/Month/Day], [Location], Shen Man at age 15.

[Year/Month/Day], [Location], Shen Man at age 16… 17, 18… all the way to 21.

It was a complete collection of his portraits from every missing year; god knew how much effort Xu Zhouye had poured into tracking every single one down.

Shen Man looked up at Xu Zhouye.

Under Shen Man’s steady gaze, Xu Zhouye suddenly grew bashful, clasping his hands behind his back and lowering his head to murmur softly: “I just thought… if our laolao were still here, she definitely wouldn’t have missed a single year.” She had loved Shen Man so deeply; how could she ever bear seeing her beloved child hurt like that?

After she passed, who remained to ache for her Man-man? Who would chronicle his growth year after year just as she had, carefully treasuring every passing season spent together?

That interrupted photo album had felt like an interrupted thread of love, something Xu Zhouye couldn’t let go of. Unable to step into Shen Man’s past, he still wished to mend the missing pieces of love—wanting to tell Shen Man that he loved him, willing to lay his entire heart bare without reserve.

Yet meeting Shen Man’s serene eyes, Xu Zhouye faltered once more.

He was scared—scared Shen Man would see through his heart, scared of rejection, scared their bond would never return to what it was.

Turning the pages one by one, Shen Man examined every photo with quiet care. Finishing the last page, he lifted his eyes, locking directly onto Xu Zhouye’s gaze.

In the night air, the boy looked less like the blazing sun and more like a melancholic moon—still radiating light, though unlike warm sunlight, it was soft and cool, like a translucent veil draped over a lover’s eyes.

Xu Zhouye’s heart wasn’t difficult to read. Vaguely grasping what was running through his mind, Shen Man tilted his head toward the sky. It was a clear, crisp night devoid of clouds, with a single full moon suspended across the heavens.

The moon was a dying sun.

Shen Man couldn’t bear letting Xu Zhouye’s warmth grow cold.

“When you blew out the candles earlier, what did you wish for?” Shen Man asked abruptly.

Xu Zhouye blinked: “Hm?” He didn’t understand why Shen Man was suddenly asking.

“Did it have anything to do with me?” Shen Man pressed.

Coming from anyone else, the question would have sounded unbearably narcissistic, yet coming from Shen Man it felt entirely natural. Caught red-handed, Xu Zhouye ducked his head: “Not telling you…”

Tilting his head slightly like a feline observing human behavior, unhurried yet resolute on landing a decisive strike, Shen Man said: “Actually, I prepared a birthday gift for you too.”

Xu Zhouye looked up: “What is it?”

Shen Man said, “A custom headset with your name engraved on it.”

After browsing endlessly for days, he had helplessly concluded that peripherals were the only practical gift between pro players.

Xu Zhouye smiled: “Ah, thank you, ge.”

“Except right now, that gift feels a bit inappropriate,” Shen Man said. “So… I want to swap it for something else.”

As if steadying his nerves, he paused mid-sentence, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Crushing the flavor capsule, he lit one and took a slow drag.

Shen Man looked strikingly graceful when he smoked.

Slender, fair fingers held the cigarette loosely near his lips; parting his thin mouth, he exhaled a wisp of mint-scented smoke, eyelids half-lowered with a teasing glint—like an enchanting spirit ensnaring the soul.

Though Xu Zhouye disliked seeing Shen Man smoke, he had to admit Shen Man looked dangerously captivating doing it.

“Swap it for what?” Xu Zhouye asked.

“How about this,” Shen Man said. “Tell me your birthday wish, and let’s see if I can grant it.”

Xu Zhouye thought to himself: No way am I falling for that. What if I actually say it and you turn on your heel and bolt? Making something up on the spot, he blurted: “My birthday wish is to learn how to smoke!”

Shen Man: “…”

Xu Zhouye: “…” Even he found his own excuse slightly ridiculous.

Letting out a long sigh, and then another, Shen Man took a drag of his cigarette, looked squarely at Xu Zhouye as if making a final decision, and crooked a finger to beckon him closer.

Baffled, Xu Zhouye leaned forward.

A pair of fingers hooked suddenly beneath his chin. Xu Zhouye watched Shen Man’s face rapidly close the distance—no, Shen Man had leaned straight in—

His lips were sealed by something cool and impossibly soft. The tip of a tongue gently pried open Xu Zhouye’s parted lips, passing a breath of cool, mint-scented smoke straight from Shen Man’s mouth into his own…

Xu Zhouye froze solid as if turned to stone, before doubling over in a violent fit of coughing—

Looking down at him from above, Shen Man clicked his tongue: “Can’t smoke, and can’t kiss either?”

Coughing until his face turned beet red, Xu Zhouye slapped a hand over his mouth, staring at Shen Man in utter disbelief. What just happened? Shen Man kissed him? Shen Man kissed him? Shen Man—kissed him!

SHEN! MAN! KISSED! HIM!

Shooting a hand forward, Xu Zhouye seized Shen Man’s shoulders.

Shen Man knitted his brows: “Hurts.”

Pulling Shen Man fiercely into his embrace with overwhelming strength, Xu Zhouye slid one hand behind the back of Shen Man’s head, pressing his lips hard against his own.

It was a kiss brimming with the urge to devour him whole. Shen Man was pushed nearly breathless; by the time Xu Zhouye finally pulled back, Shen Man’s thin lips were flushed crimson and swollen, his dark eyes glistening with moisture.

“Shen Man, Captain… ge…” Unsure of what title to even call him, Xu Zhouye buried his forehead against Shen Man’s chest, wrapping both arms tightly around his waist. “I like you, I like you so much… I… I love you.”

Not mere liking, but love—an emotion willing to restrain every selfish impulse.

Shen Man let out a soft sigh: “Be gentle… you’re going to snap my waist.”

Acting like an overexcited giant puppy with zero sense of his own strength, Xu Zhouye had already bitten his lip raw during the kiss, and now held him tight enough to practically crush his ribs.

Xu Zhouye refused to let go: “No, no, my birthday wish hasn’t been granted yet.”

Shen Man: “…”

“I’m clumsy; I won’t learn it on my own,” Xu Zhouye murmured. “I need ge to teach me properly… teach me slowly…” Lowering his head, he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to the corner of Shen Man’s lips. “Teach me for the rest of our lives.”

Shen Man: “…Mm.”

An absurd, petulant demand like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum—was astonishingly granted.

Dizzy with overwhelming euphoria, Xu Zhouye felt the surreal shock of buying a two-yuan lottery ticket on the street and winning ten million, needing to stare at the numbers repeatedly just to verify he wasn’t dreaming.

Sore from the bear hug, Shen Man warned: “If you don’t let go soon, my herniated lumbar disc is going to flare up.”

Only then did Xu Zhouye loosen his grip.

Tendonitis and lumbar disc herniations were the twin occupational hazards of pro gamers; Shen Man had zero desire to spend his off-days in physical therapy.

“Th-Then can we hold hands?” Xu Zhouye asked, staring at Shen Man with eager puppy eyes.

Licking his slightly abraded lip, Shen Man briefly couldn’t figure out whether his hands or his lower back mattered more—yet before his brain finished deliberating, his body made the choice on its own, extending his hand forward.

Fingers interlocked tightly.

Holding hands openly and proudly, the scorching warmth of Xu Zhouye’s palm flowed steadily into his skin, filling Shen Man with an unexpected, profound sense of peace.

“Ge,” Xu Zhouye muttered, “what do you think will happen if the boss finds out about us…”

Recalling the boss’s horrified expression when they joked around earlier that day, Shen Man answered with cold-blooded nonchalance: “It’s fine. She has high mental resilience.”

If the boss actually found out, she would undoubtedly camp outside his bedroom door weeping for three days and three nights, pointing an accusing finger at Shen Man’s nose and wailing: You literally told me in the afternoon that you weren’t together, how did you end up dating by nightfall?!

To which Shen Man would probably reply without batting an eye: The contract never banned dating. Why do you care when I confess?