When the Lights Go Out

It was supposed to be the biggest day of Peng Yunfei’s life—the day he finally stepped away from the "Great General" persona to become a husband. Instead, it became his most public defeat. Left at the altar because of a cruel bet, Yunfei is ready to disappear into the shadows until Luo Siyuan—the "King of the Jungle" and his fiercest rival—knocks on his car window.

What follows is a frantic, three-day rescue mission involving a remote mountain cabin, Diamond-rank smurf games, and a storm that forces them to face the truth. While Siyuan plays the part of the tireless protector, his own body is reaching its limit. Between a mountain fever and a viral scandal, Yunfei realizes that while he was busy planning a future with a stranger, his real home had been sitting across the tournament stage from him for years.

Sometimes, the person who steals your jungle buffs is the only one who can save your life.

Work Text:

The altar was supposed to be a beginning, not a punchline.

Peng Yunfei stood motionless, the heavy scent of lilies from his bouquet feeling more like a funeral shroud than a wedding celebration. The murmurs from the pews—filled with teammates, rivals, and family—vibrated against his skin like static. He felt every pair of eyes tracing the sharp lines of his suit, waiting for a groom who would never walk through the doors.

His phone felt heavy in his palm. The screen was dimmed, but the words were burned into his retina:
"I'm done. I don't really like you anyway, it's just a bet. You fell for it, Hook Line Sinker. Who wants to marry a professional esports player, anyway? A professional gamer. What a joke."

He didn’t remember leaving. He didn’t remember the drive. He only realized he was alive when he found himself gripped tightly to the steering wheel of his car in the back of the venue’s parking lot.

As Fly, he was the side-laner who stood his ground against entire teams. He was the tank; he was meant to take the hits so others didn't have to. But there was no armor for this. The "professional gamer" jab hurt the most—it was the world he had built his soul upon, dismissed as a "joke" by the person he thought was his sanctuary.

He slumped forward, resting his forehead against the cold leather of the wheel. The silence of the car was suffocating until a soft, rhythmic thump-thump echoed from the glass.

Peng Yunfei fumbled for his glasses on the passenger seat, his vision blurred by a heat he refused to let spill over. He slid them on and rolled down the window, expecting a prying reporter or a disappointed manager.

Instead, he found Luo Siyuan.

The younger man was still dressed in his formal guest attire, his hair slightly windblown as if he’d been running through the lot to find this specific car. As a jungler, Luo Siyuan—known to the world as HuaHai—was used to finding targets, but his expression held none of his usual competitive fire. It was soft, raw, and aching with a sincerity that Peng Yunfei wasn't prepared for.

"Are you okay?" Luo Siyuan asked.

The voice was a gentle strike to the cracks in Peng Yunfei's heart. For a man who spent his life defending others, having someone finally check on his safety felt like the final blow to his composure.

Peng Yunfei tried to speak, but his throat felt like it was filled with dry sand. No sound came out—just a shaky, shallow breath that caught in his chest. He looked at Luo Siyuan, the light from the parking lot lamps reflecting off Siyuan’s worried eyes, and for the first time in his professional career, the "Great General" of the side lane had no counter-play.

Siyuan didn't wait for an answer. He reached through the open window and unlatched the door from the inside. "Move over," he said, his voice firm but laced with a tenderness that brooked no argument. "I’m driving."

Usually, Peng Yunfei was the one in control, the one leading the charge and making the calls. But the weight of the suit, the sting of the "bet," and the crushing silence of the altar had drained every bit of his stamina. He obeyed without a single word of protest, clumsily climbing over the center console into the passenger seat.

As Siyuan climbed into the driver's seat and adjusted the mirrors, he glanced over at Yunfei, who was staring blankly at the dashboard.

"Lean the seat back," Siyuan commanded softly, starting the engine. The hum of the car was the only thing filling the space between them. "Close your eyes, Yunfei. Sleep. I’ve got the map from here."

Yunfei wanted to ask where they were going, or what people were saying online, but his eyelids felt like lead. He leaned the seat back, the leather cool against his neck, and let the rhythm of the tires on the asphalt lull him into a dark, dreamless void.

When Yunfei’s eyes finally fluttered open, the sun had long since set, replaced by the artificial glow of a familiar underground parking complex. He realized with a start that they weren't at his home or the team facility. They were at Luo Siyuan’s apartment building.

Beside him, the blue light of a phone screen illuminated Siyuan’s face. His thumb was flying across the screen, his expression focused and uncharacteristically grim. He was deep in a chat, his brow furrowed as he read through a long string of messages.

"Siyuan?" Yunfei’s voice was hoarse. "Who are you talking to? Is it... is it the news?"

Siyuan flinched slightly, quickly locking his phone and dropping it into the cup holder. He turned to Yunfei, his expression softening instantly into a practiced, calm smile.

"Don't worry about that," Siyuan said, reaching over to briefly pat Yunfei’s shoulder. "It’s just some logistics. Everything is handled."

"But the team... the wedding guests..."

"I said don't worry," Siyuan interrupted gently, his gaze steady. "Right now, your only job is to exist and breathe. Don't look at social media. Don't look at the groups. Just think about yourself for once. Can you do that for me?"

Yunfei looked at his friend, seeing the fierce protectiveness in the younger man's eyes. For a jungler like HuaHai, protection usually meant clearing the path so his teammates could shine. Here, in the quiet of the car, it felt like Siyuan was building a wall between Yunfei and a world that had suddenly turned cruel.

The walk from the elevator to the door was a blur. Luo Siyuan kept a steady hand on Peng Yunfei’s elbow, guiding him like a navigator leading a damaged ship into port. When the door clicked shut behind them, the silence of the apartment felt like a physical weight, finally muffling the imaginary sound of the wedding guests' whispers that had been ringing in Yunfei’s ears.

"You’re safe here," Siyuan said, tossing his keys onto the entryway table. He turned to Yunfei, scanning his pale face. "Look, you’re exhausted. Take the couch or the guest bed—wherever you feel comfortable. If you’re hungry, there’s food, and if you need a drink..." Siyuan paused, glancing toward the kitchen. "Alcohol or otherwise, everything is in the fridge. Help yourself. Don't ask for permission."

Siyuan lingered for a moment, as if wanting to say more, but he simply gave Yunfei’s arm a supportive squeeze. "I need to take a few more calls in the bedroom. Shout if you need me, okay?"

With a final, lingering look, Luo Siyuan disappeared down the hallway, leaving Peng Yunfei alone in the middle of a room he had never set foot in before.

Yunfei exhaled, a long, shaky breath that seemed to deflate his entire body. He stripped off the heavy suit jacket, the expensive fabric now feeling like a costume from a play that had been canceled mid-act. He wandered toward the kitchen, his throat parched, but he stopped before he could even reach for the fridge handle.

The refrigerator door was a collage of a life lived in the light.

There, held up by colorful magnets, were dozens of polaroids and printed photos. Yunfei stepped closer, his heart squeezing for a reason that had nothing to do with his ex-fiancé. It was a gallery of their circle—rivals on the stage, but brothers off it.

There was a photo of the two of them from an overseas trip, standing in front of a neon-lit street in Tokyo, both of them clutching giant crepes and laughing so hard their eyes were closed. There was another of a large group dinner after an Honor of Kings World Champion Cup, where players from three different teams were piled onto one booth, messy and happy.

In every single photo where they appeared together, Luo Siyuan was looking at the camera, but his body was always angled toward Peng Yunfei.

Yunfei reached out, his finger hovering over a photo of them at a beach. He had always thought of Siyuan as his "best rival"—the jungler who kept him on his toes. He hadn't realized how much of their history Siyuan had curated and kept on display. While Yunfei had been trying to build a life with someone who viewed him as a "bet," Siyuan had been quietly keeping a record of a friendship that was actually real.

The sight of their smiling faces made the "professional gamer" insult feel a little less sharp. Here, on this fridge, being a pro wasn't a joke—it was the foundation of the only genuine bonds he had.

The snap of the beer tab echoed loudly in the silent kitchen. Peng Yunfei took a long, cold swallow, the bitterness of the alcohol grounding him. With the can in hand, he wandered deeper into the heart of Luo Siyuan’s home, his socks sliding quietly over the polished floor.

He stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass door that led out to a private balcony. The city lights of the skyline twinkled in the distance, but his attention was caught by the greenery closer to home. Even in the dim light, he could see rows of potted plants—succulents, a small lemon tree, and lush ferns—all looking vibrant and meticulously cared for. It was a side of Luo Siyuan he hadn't seen; the fiery, aggressive jungler who dominated the map was apparently the same man who had the patience to nurture delicate things into blooming.

Yunfei leaned his shoulder against the glass frame, but he didn’t open the door. The night air looked cold, and he wasn't ready to face the open sky yet.

As he took another sip of his beer, his thoughts drifted toward the one thing he usually used to escape reality: the game. He was supposed to be in the middle of a two-week hiatus for his honeymoon—a "honeymoon" that was now a hollow concept. His team, Wolves, would be expecting him back for scrims and tactical meetings eventually. They were heading into a major tournament season, and the pressure on a veteran like Fly was always immense.

He looked back toward the hallway where Siyuan had disappeared. Siyuan’s team, eStar Pro, was likely on the same grueling schedule. They were rivals for a reason; their seasons were mirrors of each other.

The realization hit him with a fresh wave of guilt. Siyuan wasn't just his friend; he was a top-tier professional athlete with responsibilities, a brand to protect, and a team that needed their captain. Yet, here he was, skipping his own rest or practice time to drive a heartbroken rival across the city and hide him in his guest room.

Siyuan was risking his own peace to stabilize Yunfei’s chaos.

Yunfei stared at his reflection in the glass. He looked tired—his eyes still slightly red behind his glasses—but the crushing weight in his chest had shifted. The person who left him had called his life a "joke," but looking at Siyuan’s home, the photos on the fridge, and the carefully tended plants, Yunfei realized he was part of a world that was very much real. He just wasn't sure if he was ready to step back into it yet.

The soft click of a door handle announced Luo Siyuan’s return. He had shed his formal dress shirt for a loose, oversized black hoodie, looking less like a guest at a wedding and more like the formidable captain of eStar Pro. He spotted Peng Yunfei leaning against the glass door and walked over, leaning his own shoulder against the frame beside him.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. They just watched the city lights.

"The meta is shifting," Siyuan said suddenly, his voice low and casual. He didn't look at Yunfei; he kept his eyes on the distant traffic. "The latest patch notes dropped an hour ago. They’re buffing the jungle items again, but they’re tweaking the gold scaling for the side lanes. Your hero pool is about to become the most contested part of the draft."

Yunfei blinked, the mention of gold scaling and hero pools cutting through the fog in his brain. It was a jarring transition from the heartbreak of the afternoon, but it was a familiar one. "They're buffing the tanks?" he asked, his voice still a bit rough.

"Directly," Siyuan nodded. "If you don't stay on top of it, someone else is going to claim that lane before the tournament even starts."

Yunfei looked down at his beer. "I'm supposed to be on leave, Siyuan. I’m not even supposed to have a phone in my hand for another ten days."

Siyuan finally turned to look at him, a mischievous, sharp glint in his eyes—the look he got right before he initiated a perfect team fight. "Who said anything about using your official accounts? I have two smurfs sitting in Diamond rank. No names, no history, no fans watching the replays. Just two players who need to blow off some steam."

Siyuan stepped closer, his tone turning serious. "The world is screaming your name right now, Yunfei. But in the game? When the match starts? You aren't 'Fly' the guy who got stood up. You’re just a player who needs to protect his tower. Let’s go kill some time so you can forget the rest."

The proposal was absurd. They were two of the highest-ranked players in the world, and Siyuan was suggesting they go "smurfing" in the lower tiers just to hide. But as Yunfei looked at Siyuan’s outstretched hand, he realized this was Siyuan’s version of a lifeline. He wasn't offering him a shoulder to cry on; he was offering him a shield to hide behind.

"Diamond rank?" Yunfei let out a small, huffed breath that was almost a laugh. "You're going to make those kids cry, Siyuan."

"Only if you don't carry me," Siyuan teased, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Well? You want to stay here looking at my plants, or do you want to show me why you're still the best side-laner in the league?"

The living room was dark, illuminated only by the frantic, colorful glow of two smartphone screens. The rhythmic tapping of fingers against glass was the only soundtrack to the night. On the screen, the legendary "Fly" and "HuaHai" were ghosts in the machine—anonymous accounts with default avatars, systematically dismantling their opponents.

Luo Siyuan moved with his signature aggression, his jungler carving paths through the map with surgical precision. Beside him, Peng Yunfei was an immovable wall. Every time Siyuan dove into a risky skirmish, Yunfei was already there, his tank hero absorbing the brunt of the damage and peeling away threats before they could touch his friend.

"Double kill," the game’s announcer echoed through the quiet apartment.

"Nice follow-up," Siyuan murmured, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Your reaction time hasn't slowed down a bit, even in a suit."

Yunfei felt a strange, warm hum in his chest. It had been a long time since they had played on the same side of the map. In the KPL, they were the "Grand Slam" rivals, the two pillars of different dynasties. But as they synchronized their ultimates to wipe out the enemy team, Yunfei’s mind drifted back to Riyadh.

He remembered the heat of Saudi Arabia and the surreal feeling of wearing the same jersey as Siyuan during the international invitational. The "KPL Dream Team" had been a lightning strike in the esports world—a collection of superstars who were usually trying to outplay each other, suddenly forced to work as one. That summer, they hadn't just been rivals; they had been brothers-in-arms, representing their entire league on the world stage.

Back then, the chemistry had been instant, a natural alignment of two of the greatest minds in the game. Now, sitting on a couch in the middle of the night, that same spark was there. It was effortless. Siyuan didn't even have to ping the map; Yunfei knew exactly where he was going.

"Victory" flashed across both screens in brilliant gold.

Yunfei let out a breath he felt he’d been holding since he stood at the altar. For thirty minutes at a time, he wasn't the man who was "just a bet." He wasn't the "joke" of a professional gamer. He was a champion. He was half of a duo that felt invincible.

He set his phone down on his knee, the heat of the device seeping into his palm. He looked at Siyuan, who was already queueing them up for the next match, his face focused and calm.

"We haven't played like this since Saudi," Yunfei said softly.

Siyuan’s thumbs paused for a fraction of a second. He didn't look up, but his voice was steady. "I liked that summer. It was the only time I didn't have to worry about where you were on the map, because I knew you’d be right where I needed you." He finally looked over, his gaze lingering on Yunfei’s tired eyes. "I’ve always liked being on your team better than playing against you, Yunfei."

The win streak climbed into the double digits. As the clock ticked past 3:00 AM, the heavy, suffocating atmosphere of the afternoon had been replaced by the familiar click-clack of high-speed gameplay and the low hum of competitive strategy.

"Siyuan, if you dive that tower without a minion wave again, I’m letting you die," Peng Yunfei teased, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he positioned his hero to intercept the enemy's reinforcement. "I don’t care if you’re 'the' Jungler of the century; my shield has a cooldown."

Luo Siyuan chuckled, a bright, melodic sound that filled the living room. "You say that every time, Yunfei, and every time, you flash-shield me at the last second. You’re too soft-hearted to let me take a hit."

"It’s called tactical preservation," Yunfei countered, though a small, genuine smile finally tugged at the corners of his mouth.

It was the first time he had felt the muscles in his face relax since he’d stood at the altar. The sharp, bitter words of his ex-fiancé were still there, buried somewhere in the back of his mind, but they were being drowned out by the thrill of the hunt. In this digital world, he wasn't a victim; he was the "Great General" again.

During a particularly intense team fight near the 'Dragon' pit, Yunfei executed a perfect crowd-control combo, locking down three enemies at once. Siyuan swooped in instantly, his fingers a blur as he secured a Triple Kill.

As the "Ace" banner flashed across the screen, Yunfei glanced sideways. He caught the expression on Siyuan’s face—a triumphant, soaring smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. It was a look Yunfei knew well; it was the "I’ve already won" expression Siyuan wore when a match-winning play was finalized.

But as Siyuan looked back at him, his smile didn't fade. It softened.

Yunfei realized then that Siyuan wasn't smiling because of the Triple Kill or the Diamond-rank victory. He was smiling because Yunfei was talking again. He was smiling because the light had come back into Yunfei’s eyes.

The distraction hadn't just been a way to kill time; it was a calculated play. In the game of life, Luo Siyuan had set an objective: to bring Peng Yunfei back from the edge. And looking at that smile, Yunfei knew that in Siyuan’s book, the mission was a success.

"You're too obvious, you know," Yunfei murmured, though there was no malice in it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Siyuan replied innocently, though his thumb hovered over the 'Match' button for one more round. "I just want to get to Master rank before sunrise. You coming, or are you retiring early, 'Old Man'?"

Yunfei let out a real laugh this time—short and breathless. "Old man? Watch your mouth, Jungler. I'll show you who's carrying this game."

The darkness of the apartment had softened into the grey haze of early morning. Peng Yunfei drifted in a state of heavy, dreamless exhaustion. He was distantly aware of a shifting weight on the sofa—a gentle hand plucking his glasses from his face, followed by the soft brush of a warm blanket being draped over his shoulders. A faint scent of cedar and clean laundry lingered as a door clicked shut, and he finally succumbed to a deep sleep.

When he woke, the sun was cutting sharp lines across the hardwood floor. He didn't move. He couldn't. His body felt like lead, but his ears were suddenly ringing with the low, sharp tone of Luo Siyuan’s voice coming from the kitchen.

"I don't care about the 'mutual' statement," Siyuan hissed, his voice a lethal whisper. "There is no 'mutual' when one person treats a wedding like a gambling debt. You flip the narrative. The ex-fiancé didn't 'leave'; he revealed his own character. Yunfei isn't the victim here—he’s the one who escaped a disaster."

Yunfei kept his eyes squeezed shut, his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt like he was eavesdropping on a war council.

"Listen to me," Siyuan continued, and Yunfei could practically hear him pacing the kitchen tiles. "If he actually loved him, his career wouldn't have mattered. Professional gamer? It’s a job. It’s a passion. If you love someone, you bridge the worlds; you don't burn the bridge while they’re standing on it." Siyuan let out a sharp, jagged curse under his breath that made Yunfei flinch internally. "He’s a coward. Make sure the press knows who walked away from the best man in this league."

There was a pause, then the sound of a glass being set down on a counter.

"I’ve already spoken to the Wolves' management," Siyuan said, his voice calmer but no less intense. "They have the screenshots of the text message. They’re fully behind him. No fines, no forced interviews. They’re giving him the space I asked for. I’ve handled the PR end for eStar too—no one on my side is commenting unless it's to support Yunfei."

Yunfei clutched the edge of the blanket under the fabric. He had spent years being the "Tank"—the one who absorbed the ultimate abilities, the one who took the tower aggro so his team could survive. He was so used to being the shield that he had forgotten what it felt like to be protected.

He realized now that while they were playing those "meaningless" games in Diamond rank, Siyuan had been fighting a two-front war. He had been entertaining Yunfei with one hand and dismantling a PR nightmare with the other. He had cleared the path, silenced the critics, and secured Yunfei’s professional home, all while Yunfei was asleep.

Siyuan’s quiet anger on his behalf was more healing than any apology his ex could have offered. It was the sound of someone who didn't see a "professional gamer" or a "joke," but a person worth fighting for.

Peng Yunfei stayed still for a few more minutes, letting the weight of Luo Siyuan’s loyalty sink in. Finally, he sat up, the blanket sliding down his chest. His head felt clearer, though his heart was still tender. He found his glasses on the coffee table where Siyuan had tucked them and slipped them on, the world snapping back into sharp focus.

He walked into the kitchen, the scent of fresh coffee acting as a bridge back to reality. Siyuan was standing by the counter, scrolling through his phone with a focused intensity, but he looked up the moment he heard Yunfei’s footsteps.

"You're awake," Siyuan said, his voice dropping the sharp edge he’d used with the reporters. He looked tired—dark circles beginning to shadow his eyes—but he managed a small, encouraging smile. "Coffee? Or do you want something more substantial?"

Yunfei didn't answer immediately. He walked to the counter and leaned against it, looking directly at Siyuan. "I heard you, Siyuan. On the phone."

Siyuan’s hand froze mid-air, his thumb hovering over his screen. He looked like a jungler caught in a bush he thought was empty. "Oh. I didn't mean to wake you. I just wanted to make sure things didn't spiral out of control while you were resting."

"You talked to my manager. You talked to the press. You've been playing 'tank' for me all morning," Yunfei said, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out, placing a hand on the counter near Siyuan’s. "Thank you. For protecting me when I couldn't even look at my own phone."

Siyuan’s defensive posture melted. He let out a soft breath and set his phone down, turning fully toward Yunfei. The fierce, protective fire Yunfei had heard on the balcony was still there, but it was tempered by a deep, quiet warmth.

"It’s okay, Yunfei," Siyuan assured him, his smile widening just a fraction. It wasn't the triumphant smile from the game, but something humbler, more grounded. "That’s what friends do. We’ve spent years watching each other’s backs on a screen. Why would the real world be any different?"

He reached out and gave Yunfei’s shoulder a firm, lingering squeeze. "In the game, you’re the one who stands in the front so I can do my job. Today, I’m just returning the favor. You don't owe me anything for that."

Yunfei looked at Siyuan’s hand on his shoulder, then up at his friend's face. He realized that while his ex-fiancé had seen his career as a barrier to love, Siyuan saw it as the very thing that made their bond unbreakable. For the first time since the "wedding" began, the shame Peng Yunfei felt started to dissolve, replaced by a strange, new clarity about who actually belonged in his life.

The suit was finally gone. Peng Yunfei felt a strange sense of relief as he pulled on a pair of Luo Siyuan’s joggers and a casual hoodie. The fit was snug—Siyuan was shorter and slighter than him—and the sleeves didn’t quite reach his wrists, but the soft cotton felt infinitely better against his skin than the suffocating silk of the wedding attire.

They were settling into a quiet breakfast when a sharp knock echoed through the apartment.

A delivery rider stood in the hall, handing over a small, unassuming box. There was no card, no flower, just the cold weight of metal inside. When Yunfei opened it, his breath hitched.

Resting on the velvet lining was a luxury watch—the one Yunfei had saved months of tournament winnings to buy as an engagement gift. It was a piece of "gold" from his world, returned like trash. A note was tucked underneath: “Take your ‘gamer’ trophy back. It never really fit my lifestyle anyway.”

Yunfei’s hand trembled, his resolve flickering like a dying candle. The insult was clear: even his most heartfelt gifts were viewed as nothing more than tacky spoils of a "joke" profession.

Siyuan snatched the box from the counter, his eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity. He didn't throw it, but he closed the lid with a definitive snap. He looked at Yunfei’s pale face and made a decision.

"We’re leaving," Siyuan stated, his voice like iron. "Hiding in this apartment isn't enough. We’re going to a retreat outside the city. No press, no deliveries, no ghosts."

Yunfei looked up, startled. "But you have practice, don't you? And the upcoming season—"

"I asked for time off. What do you think I was doing on the phone all morning?" Siyuan countered, crossing his arms. "It’s not like eStar doesn't have a sub jungler in case I’m not available for a few days. The team will survive."

"Luo Siyuan," Yunfei said, his voice a warning, a plea, and a question all at once.

"Peng Yunfei," Siyuan shot back, echoing the tone with stubborn finality. He stepped closer, softening his gaze. "I've booked a quiet place. No one gets the location except our inner circle—the ones who actually know what a 'professional' you are. But first, we’re stopping at the Wolves’ house. You need your own clothes, your gear, and a proper goodbye to that suit."

Yunfei looked at the watch box, then back at Siyuan. The jungler was already grabbing his car keys, looking ready to fight the entire world if it meant getting Yunfei to a safe harbor.

"Okay," Yunfei whispered, standing up a little straighter in Siyuan’s tight hoodie. "Let’s go."

The sleek exterior of the Wolves’ facility usually felt like a fortress of discipline and focus, but today, as Luo Siyuan pulled his car into the driveway, it felt like a sanctuary. Peng Yunfei stepped out of the car, still wearing Siyuan’s slightly-too-small hoodie, clutching the garment bag containing the wedding suit as if it were a lead weight.

He expected a heavy silence. He expected the kind of pitying glances that make you feel like glass about to shatter. Instead, the moment he stepped through the front doors, he was nearly tackled.

"You’re back!" one of his younger teammates shouted, grabbing his arm. There was no mention of the "groom," no questions about the "bet."

The Wolves’ coach stood in the hallway, arms crossed. He looked at Yunfei, then shifted his gaze to Siyuan, who was standing right at Yunfei’s shoulder like a silent, lethal bodyguard. Siyuan’s expression was dark, his eyes scanning the room as if looking for anyone who might say the wrong thing. He looked ready to engage in a verbal team-fight with anyone who dared breathe a word of the scandal.

"Good to see you, Fly," the coach said, his voice gruff but kind. He glanced at Siyuan and gave a sharp, approving nod. "And good to see you’re in capable hands. Take what you need. The facility is locked down—no press, no outsiders."

One of the teammates grabbed the garment bag from Yunfei’s hand. "We’ll take care of this 'trash' for you, Captain. Consider it deleted from the server."

Yunfei felt a lump form in his throat. The "disposal" of the suit wasn't a funeral; it was a cleanup crew. He felt Siyuan’s tension beside him—a literal heat radiating from the younger man. Siyuan looked like he was still mentally drafting a list of people to hunt down. Sensing the intensity, Yunfei reached over and lightly smacked Siyuan’s arm.

"Calm down," Yunfei murmured. "You’re scaring the rookies."

Siyuan rolled his eyes, the murderous glint softening just a fraction, but he didn't move an inch away. He followed Yunfei into the living quarters, watching as his friend began to pack a small bag for their trip.

Yunfei’s hand hovered over his desk, hesitating as his fingers brushed the tournament-issued phone. It was the device that held his career, his practice logs, and—more painfully—the bridge to the world that had mocked him. It represented the "Professional Gamer" title his ex had used as a weapon.

Before his fingers could even close around it, a hand darted past him. Siyuan grabbed the phone with the lightning-fast reflex of a jungler securing a kill.

Yunfei looked up, shocked. "Siyuan?"

Siyuan merely lifted an eyebrow, his face unreadable as he shoved the phone deep into the side pocket of the travel bag he was holding for Yunfei. "You’re going to need this for the retreat," Siyuan said firmly. "But you’re not allowed to touch it until I say so. I’m the shot-caller for this trip, remember?"

Yunfei stared at him, then let out a small, tired huff of laughter. "Right. I forgot. You’re the one with the map."

"Exactly," Siyuan said, zipping the bag shut. "Now let's go. The mountains are waiting, and I’m not letting you spend another minute in this city."

The city skyline was shrinking in the rearview mirror as they hit the open highway. Luo Siyuan gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, his gaze fixed intensely on the road ahead. He looked like he was trying to outrun the very concept of the city itself.

Peng Yunfei watched him from the passenger seat. He noticed the way Siyuan’s blinks were becoming longer, the way his shoulders were hunched with a tension that was past the point of being productive.

"Siyuan, pull over at the next service station," Yunfei said softly. "I’m driving."

"I’m fine," Siyuan replied instantly, his voice a bit too high. "I’ve got the GPS coordinates. Just rest, Yunfei."

"Siyuan. How many hours did you actually sleep last night?"

"I slept. Don't worry about it."

"Give me a number."

"I told you, I'm—"

"Luo Siyuan. Pull over. Now."

Yunfei didn't raise his volume, but he used his 'Captain's Voice'—the low, resonant tone that had led the Wolves through countless high-pressure grand finals. It was the voice that demanded absolute obedience in the heat of a team fight.

Siyuan huffed, a sound of defeated frustration, but he didn't argue further. He signaled and pulled the car onto the shoulder of a quiet stretch of road flanked by tall pines.

As they swapped seats, the sunlight hit Siyuan’s face, mercilessly revealing the deep purple shadows under his eyes. He looked exhausted, not just physically, but as if he had been carrying the weight of Yunfei’s entire world on his back for twenty-four hours.

"Sleep," Yunfei commanded as he adjusted the driver's seat.

Siyuan leaned his head against the window, his protests dying down into a tired mumble. "I just... I know how much of an emotional toll you're taking right now," he muttered, his voice slurring slightly as his eyes fluttered shut. "I didn't want the same thing that happened to me a few years ago... to happen to you. Not you."

Yunfei froze, his hand on the gear shift. He turned to look at Siyuan, but the younger man was already drifting off, his breathing slowing into the rhythm of deep exhaustion.

A few years ago?

Yunfei searched his memory as he pulled the car back onto the road. He had known Siyuan for a long time. They had competed in every major tournament together. He remembered Siyuan’s rise to fame, his championships, his occasional slumps—but there had never been a scandal like this. No public heartbreak, no ruined wedding. Siyuan’s personal life had always seemed like a closed book, perfectly managed and quiet.

What could have happened that was so similar to this? And why was Siyuan so terrified of Yunfei experiencing it that he was willing to run himself into the ground to prevent it?

The hum of the engine was the only answer. As they climbed higher into the mountain air, Yunfei realized that while Siyuan had been acting as his shield, he was hiding a set of scars that Yunfei knew nothing about.

The cabin was a masterpiece of cedar and glass, tucked away where the mountain air was so crisp it felt like drinking cold water. Peng Yunfei killed the engine and sat in the silence for a moment, watching Luo Siyuan sleep. Siyuan’s head was tilted back, his mouth slightly open, looking younger and more vulnerable than the "King of the Jungle" the world knew.

Yunfei’s mind kept looping back to Siyuan’s half-conscious confession. What happened to him? He searched his memory, but Siyuan had always been the golden boy of the KPL. If there had been a shadow in his past, he had buried it deeper than any hidden objective on the game map. Yunfei shook his head; he wouldn't pry. Siyuan had protected his dignity all morning; Yunfei would protect Siyuan’s secrets now.

"Siyuan. We’re here," Yunfei murmured, gently shaking his shoulder.

Siyuan jolted awake, blinking blearily at the towering pines. "Already? I... I didn't mean to out for that long."

They hauled their bags inside, the scent of lavender and woodsmoke greeting them. However, as they explored the loft, they found a slight tactical error. The cabin was luxurious, but it was designed for a couple. There was only one massive, plush king-sized bed draped in thick wool blankets.

"I—must have clicked the wrong thing in the rush," Siyuan said, his face flushing a sudden, deep red. "It’s fine. I’ll sleep on the floor. Or the sofa downstairs. I’ll call the caretaker and see if they have a spare cot."

Siyuan turned toward the door, his hand already reaching for the handle to find the staff, but Yunfei didn't let him move. He reached out and snagged Siyuan’s wrist, pulling him back.

The momentum was more than Yunfei intended. Siyuan stumbled back, and Yunfei, trying to steady them both, ended up pinning Siyuan against the cabin wall. One of Yunfei’s hands landed on the wood just above Siyuan’s head, and for a heartbeat, the space between them vanished.

The silence in the room was no longer about the mountains. It was the sound of two hearts suddenly racing in sync. Yunfei could see the gold flecks in Siyuan’s eyes and the way his breath hitched.

Both men immediately coughed and looked in opposite directions, Yunfei stepping back so fast he nearly tripped over his own suitcase.

"It's fine," Yunfei said, his voice a bit higher than usual as he adjusted his glasses. "Don't call anyone. It’s not like this is the first time we’ve shared a bed."

Siyuan rubbed the wrist Yunfei had grabbed, his ears still burning pink. "I guess... I mean, Riyadh was different."

"Exactly," Yunfei nodded, clinging to the memory of Saudi Arabia like a shield. "The 'Dream Team' night. Everyone was in our room, we pushed the twin beds together because no one wanted to stop talking about the trophy. We all crashed in one big mess. It’s just a bed, Siyuan. We’re teammates."

"Right," Siyuan said, finally looking back at him with a shy, relieved smile. "Teammates. Just... try not to kick me in your sleep like you did in Riyadh."

"I did not kick you," Yunfei protested, a genuine laugh finally breaking the tension. "You were the one hogging the blankets."

The afternoon was a whirlwind of movement. Luo Siyuan seemed determined to keep Peng Yunfei’s mind from drifting toward the city or the watch box. He dragged Yunfei through a series of distractions—challenging him to a rapid-fire card game, forcing him to help prep a rustic dinner, and even convincing him to try a chaotic "handheld-only" 1v1 on their phones.

For the first time in what felt like years, Yunfei found himself laughing until his ribs ached. The "Great General" persona had fallen away, leaving behind just a man enjoying the company of a friend. However, as the sun began to dip behind the peaks, Yunfei noticed a recurring twitch in Siyuan’s behavior. Siyuan kept glancing toward the long, winding driveway that led to the cabin, checking his watch with a secret, triumphant energy.

"Siyuan, are you expecting a delivery?" Yunfei asked, drying his hands on a towel. "I thought you said this place was locked down."

"It is," Siyuan said, his eyes crinkling as he looked toward the glass door. "But I realized that if you're going to have a 'rebirth,' you need a witness who’s seen you through your worst drafts and your best victories."

A car engine hummed in the distance, and a moment later, a familiar figure stepped onto the porch. He was dressed in a comfortable jacket, glasses perched firmly on his nose, and a small suitcase in hand. Behind him, his wife was adjusting their small son’s hat, the toddler looking around the mountain scenery with wide, curious eyes.

It was Guo Jiayi, better known to the world as Gemini—the legendary former coach of the Wolves turned star streamer.

"What is this? A retirement home for pro players?" Gemini joked, his voice echoing with the same sharp, confident cadence that used to fill the Wolves’ strategy room.

Yunfei stood frozen, his eyes wide. "Coach? What are you doing here?"

"Ask the Jungler," Gemini said, gesturing toward Siyuan. "He called me yesterday. Said he was taking a certain stubborn side-laner on a retreat and that I was the only person loud enough to drown out any negative thoughts." He stepped forward, his expression softening as he looked at Yunfei. "We’re staying at a hotel just down the road, but I told my wife we had to stop by here first. I heard someone needed a reminder of who he is."

Yunfei turned to Siyuan, who was leaning against the kitchen counter with a smug, satisfied grin.

"You called him?" Yunfei whispered.

"I told you," Siyuan replied, his voice warm. "I wanted people here who actually know you. Not the 'pro gamer' on a screen, but the Yunfei who worked his way up from nothing. Gemini was there at the start. It felt right."

The weight that had been sitting on Yunfei’s chest since the altar finally felt like it was being lifted by more than just one set of hands. Siyuan hadn't just brought him to the mountains to hide; he had brought the foundation of Yunfei’s life to him.

The cabin’s living room transformed into a makeshift bootcamp. Peng Yunfei and Luo Siyuan sat side-by-side on the sofa, phones plugged in, while Gemini paced behind them like it was 2019 all over again. The former coach hovered over their shoulders, his eyes darting between their screens, occasionally letting out a "Tsk" or a "Nice pick" that made Yunfei feel a nostalgic surge of adrenaline.

"Ready?" Siyuan asked, his finger hovering over the start button.

"Ready," Yunfei replied, settling into his 'Fly' mindset.

But as the match-making screen popped up, Yunfei’s brow furrowed. They weren't in a duo queue. The lobby was a full five-man premade. Three other accounts—all smurfs with generic names like MountainAir01 and SilentNight—were already locked in.

"Siyuan? I thought we were just duo-ing," Yunfei whispered as the ban-pick phase began.

"Plans change," Siyuan said simply, his voice light.

As the game loaded into the Rift, the chat box at the bottom left of the screen flickered to life. No one spoke in the voice chat, but the coordination was terrifying. The mid-laner rotated to help Yunfei’s side lane with perfect timing. The support seemed to know exactly when Yunfei needed a shield before he even engaged. It wasn't the chaotic play of Diamond-rank randoms; it was the synchronized movement of a professional machine.

Yunfei glanced at Siyuan. His friend was focused on the screen, his thumbs moving with rhythmic precision. "Did you do something?" Yunfei asked, his voice suspicious but amused.

"Why are you accusing me?" Siyuan replied, not taking his eyes off the map. He caught Yunfei’s glance and merely raised an eyebrow, a playful, innocent look that fooled absolutely no one. "I just told a few people we were playing. If they happened to find the same lobby, that’s just a coincidence, right?"

"A coincidence," Gemini snorted from behind them, leaning in to look at the Mid-laner's movement. "A coincidence that looks suspiciously like a World Champion's rotation. Look at that map control, Yunfei. Even on a smurf, you can't hide talent like that."

Yunfei looked back at his screen. He saw the way the 'strangers' on his team moved to protect him, how they set up kills for him to take, and how they followed his every signal without question. He realized then that Siyuan hadn't just brought him to the mountains; he had secretly summoned the "Dream Team" back together in the digital world.

The chat remained silent, but the message was loud and clear: We are here. You are not alone.

"You're unbelievable," Yunfei murmured, a lump forming in his throat as he executed a perfect three-man stun, knowing with 100% certainty that his team would be there to follow up.

"Just play the game, General," Siyuan teased, finally letting a small, triumphant smirk slip. "We have a win streak to maintain."

The ban-pick phase of the second match began, and Peng Yunfei stopped looking at the generic usernames. Instead, he started looking at the rhythm.

The Mid-laner was banning heroes that specifically countered a heavy-roam style. The Support was already hovering over a high-mobility tank. The Marksman was locking in a late-game hyper-carry with the confidence of a man who never missed a last hit.

Yunfei’s eyes widened as the realization hit him like a perfectly timed ultimate. The Mid-laner's rotation patterns... that was Qingrong. The aggressive yet safe positioning of the gold lane... that had to be Qiancheng. And the suffocating vision control from the support? Only Wuwei played with that kind of map presence.

It was the exact starting five of the KPL Dream Team. The legends who had stood together under the desert heat of Riyadh were now gathered in a silent Diamond-rank lobby in the middle of the night.

Yunfei looked at Luo Siyuan, who was biting his lip to keep from laughing. Yunfei didn't say a word to him. Instead, he reached down and tapped the "Unmute" button on his phone.

“You do realize I know who you are, right?” Yunfei said, his voice steady but filled with a growing warmth. “Eventually, if not now. Your playstyles are about as 'anonymous' as a neon sign.”

For a second, there was silence. Then, the voice chat exploded into absolute chaos.

“I told you!” Qingrong’s voice crackled through the speaker, followed by a loud wheeze of laughter. “I told you he’d figure it out by the second wave of minions! Wuwei, your pathing was too obvious!”

“My pathing? Qiancheng was the one kiting like he was in the Grand Finals!” Wuwei shot back, laughing so hard he sounded out of breath.

“Hey, I have a reputation to uphold,” Qiancheng’s calm, cool voice joined in, though he was clearly grinning. “We couldn't let the Great General lose a match on his first night back, could we?”

Gemini leaned over Yunfei’s shoulder, cackling at the phone. “Look at these idiots! A combined ten championship rings and they’re sweating in Diamond rank! You guys are a disgrace to the league!”

“Coach! Don't act like you weren't in on it!” Qingrong yelled back.

Yunfei listened to the banter—the familiar insults, the shared jokes, the effortless brotherhood. These men were the elite of the elite, rivals who fought him tooth and nail for trophies every season. Yet, here they were, using their rare night off to play on burner accounts just to make sure he didn't feel alone in the dark.

He looked at Siyuan. The jungler wasn't laughing as loudly as the others. He was just watching Yunfei with a soft, steady gaze, his eyes saying what the voice chat couldn't: See? This is your world. This is where you belong.

“Thanks, guys,” Yunfei said, his voice dropping an octave, thick with sincerity.

“Don't thank us yet,” Wuwei chirped. “We have three more games to win before Siyuan lets us sleep. Lock in, Captain. We’re waiting for your signal.”

The peaceful mountain cabin was now a war room of the highest order. With the microphones live, the professional facade of the "Dream Team" evaporated, replaced by the high-octane bickering of five guys who had spent thousands of hours competing against one another.

"Siyuan! Where are you?" Qiancheng yelled as his character danced on the edge of a blade in the gold lane. "They’ve sent three people down here! I’m fighting for my life, and my Jungler is busy farming a small jungle creep? Hello?!"

"I’m securing the gold lead, you drama queen!" Luo Siyuan shot back, his fingers flying across the screen. "Qingrong was already halfway there. If I leave my rotation now, their Jungler gets the objective. Learn to kite or learn to cry, I’m not coming!"

"He’s actually heartless," Wuwei chimed in, laughing as he tried to body-block for his marksman. "Coach, did you see that? Siyuan is basically playing for the other team at this point."

Gemini stood behind them, his face turning a vibrant shade of red. He was clutching his own forehead, pacing back and forth in a tight circle. "You guys are champions!" he barked, though he looked like he was about to strangle the phone itself. "Your positioning is garbage! Siyuan, if you don't rotate in the next three seconds, I’m coming over there to delete your account myself!"

Peng Yunfei watched the chaos unfold, a strange, mischievous heat bubbling up in his chest. For years, he had been the "Great General"—the stoic, reliable anchor of the Wolves. But tonight, surrounded by his brothers and fueled by the sheer absurdity of the situation, his "inner gremlin" finally broke free.

Without warning, Yunfei abandoned his lane entirely. Instead of defending his tower, he used his mobility to zip across the map, not to help the fight, but to "steal" the large jungle monster Siyuan had been working on.

"Wait—Yunfei? What are you doing?" Siyuan gasped as the monster’s gold and buff went to Yunfei’s character instead of his.

"I’m 'supporting' the Jungler," Yunfei said, his voice deadpan but his eyes dancing with malice. "You looked like you were struggling with the last hit. I thought I’d help."

The voice chat went silent for a beat before erupting.

"THE CAPTAIN HAS GONE ROGUE!" Qingrong shrieked with delight.

"Fly is griefing! I love it!" Wuwei cheered, even as his own lane was collapsing.

Gemini looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. He stared at Yunfei—his star player, the most disciplined man he’d ever coached—now actively causing chaos just to mess with Siyuan. He opened his mouth to scream, then closed it, seeing the genuine, bright spark of life in Yunfei’s expression. He took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking as he tried to suppress his own laughter.

Siyuan turned to look at Yunfei, his mouth agape. "You... you actually just took my buff."

"And I’ll do it again," Yunfei chirped, leaning closer to Siyuan's side of the couch, his shoulder bumping against his friend's. "What are you going to do about it, Jungler?"

Siyuan’s shock melted into a grin that was dangerously soft. "Oh, it's on. If we lose this game because our Side-laner is a gremlin, you’re paying for dinner for the next year."

The next ten minutes were a masterclass in professional-grade absurdity. Even as they bickered, insulted each other’s lineage, and actively tried to "steal" kills, the muscle memory of five World Champions was impossible to suppress. They were like a group of apex predators trying to play tag; even when they weren't trying, the sheer mechanical gap between them and the Diamond-rank opponents was staggering.

"Wuwei, if you hook that minion one more time, I’m reporting you for win-trading!" Qiancheng yelled, though he was currently 12-0 and slaughtering the enemy backline with casual ease.

"I’m just giving them a head start!" Wuwei defended himself, laughing so hard he missed another skill shot.

Peng Yunfei was fully committed to his new role as the team’s "chaos agent." He followed Luo Siyuan everywhere, hovering over his shoulder in the jungle and snatching away small creeps whenever he could.

"Yunfei, please," Siyuan groaned, his thumbs twitching as he tried to out-smite his own teammate. "I have a reputation! If anyone finds out a side-laner bullied me out of my own jungle, I’ll never hear the end of it."

"Then you better get faster, Jungler," Yunfei retorted, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous light that hadn't been there for months.

Behind them, Gemini looked like a man who had aged ten years in twenty minutes. He was clutching the back of the sofa, his knuckles white. "This is the most disgraceful game of Honor of Kings I have ever witnessed! Twenty minutes?! It took you twenty minutes to finish a match against players who don't even know how to build armor? I should have stayed in the city!"

Despite the "disgrace," the enemy Nexus finally shattered under the weight of five ultimate abilities being fired off simultaneously—mostly because they were all trying to be the one to get the final hit.

"VICTORY"

The gold letters flared across their screens.

"Disgraceful," Gemini muttered, though as he looked at Yunfei—who was currently leaning against Siyuan, breathless from laughing at Siyuan’s frustrated expression—the coach’s face softened. He adjusted his glasses, a small, secret smile appearing on his lips. "Absolutely pathetic. I’m going to my hotel before I lose my license to coach. You kids are a menace."

He walked over and patted Yunfei on the shoulder, his hand heavy and grounding. "Good to have you back, Fly. The real Fly. Not that guy in the suit."

The voice chat began to chime with the others saying their goodnights. "Get some rest, General!" Qingrong called out. "Don't let Siyuan keep you up too late with his 'tactical' talk," Qiancheng teased.

As the lobby closed and the silence of the mountain cabin returned, the atmosphere felt different. The air was no longer thick with the memory of a failed wedding. It was filled with the lingering echo of friendship, the scent of cedar, and the quiet, steady presence of the man sitting next to him.

Yunfei set his phone down, his hands finally still. He looked at Siyuan, who was already looking back at him.

"You okay?" Siyuan asked, his voice low and soft, the "King of the Jungle" bravado gone.

"Yeah," Yunfei said, and for the first time, he actually meant it. "I am."

The mountain air was sharp enough to sting, but the cold felt honest against Peng Yunfei’s skin. He and Luo Siyuan stood by the balcony railing, the silence of the woods a stark contrast to the chaotic shouting of the game only an hour prior. A single beer can sat between them on the wood, the metal frosting over in the night chill.

For a while, they just watched their breath hitch in the air like ghostly clouds.

"You asked about what I said in the car," Siyuan began, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He wasn't looking at Yunfei; he was tracing the rim of the aluminum can. "About a few years ago."

Yunfei nodded, keeping his gaze on the distant, moonlit peaks. "You said you didn't want what happened to you to happen to me."

Siyuan let out a short, hollow laugh. "It wasn't a wedding. I wasn't that far along. But it was someone I trusted—someone I thought understood why I spent sixteen hours a day staring at a screen. Turns out, they were just waiting for me to be 'useful' to their social circle. When I hit a slump and the fans started turning, they didn't just leave. They made sure to tell me that I was a 'temporary hobby' for them."

He finally looked at Yunfei, his eyes reflecting the pale moonlight. "I felt so small, Yunfei. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone—especially you guys. I thought if the great 'HuaHai' couldn't keep a relationship, it meant I was just a gaming machine with no soul. I spent months alone in that headspace. It was the darkest my world has ever been."

Yunfei felt a pang of guilt. "Siyuan, I had no idea. We were competing every week back then. I should have noticed."

"No," Siyuan shook his head firmly. "I hid it well. But when I saw you standing at that altar... when I saw that look in your eyes... it was like looking into a mirror of my younger self. I couldn't let you be alone. Not you."

Siyuan took a small sip of the beer, his expression turning a bit more fierce. "The others—Qingrong, Qiancheng, all of them—they wanted to come at that guy. They were so livid on your behalf that I was genuinely worried they’d end up in a police report. I told them I’d handle it. I told them I’d bring you here."

He paused, a small, sad smile touching his lips. "They think you're the best man in the league, Yunfei. And frankly? So do I. Seeing someone try to throw you away like a 'bet'... it made me realize that if I didn't step in, I’d never forgive myself."

Yunfei reached out, his hand covering Siyuan’s on the railing. The warmth of Siyuan's skin was the only thing keeping the mountain chill at bay. "You didn't just step in, Siyuan. You saved me."

Siyuan didn't pull his hand away. Instead, he turned his palm up, lacing his fingers with Yunfei’s. "Then stay saved. Don't let a coward's words define the General I've been chasing on the map for five years."

"Alright, that’s enough," Luo Siyuan said, his voice taking on a maternal sternness that contrasted hilariously with his previous confession. He tugged at Peng Yunfei’s arm, pulling him away from the balcony railing. "It’s freezing out here. If I send you back to the Wolves with a fever, your fans will have my head, and my reputation as a 'top-tier' protector will be in the dirt. Inside. Now."

Yunfei let out a huff, half-amused and half-exhausted. "You’re worrying too much, Siyuan. I’ve survived outdoor winter finals before." Despite the protest, he let himself be guided back into the warmth of the cabin. He gave Siyuan a light, playful smack on the shoulder—a silent thank you—before obediently sliding under the heavy wool covers of the king-sized bed.

The bed was vast, but with Siyuan still standing by the window, it felt too large.

Siyuan’s phone buzzed—not the generic smurf device, but his official tournament phone. He glanced at the screen and sighed, his expression shifting into "Captain mode."

"Everything okay?" Yunfei asked, propping himself up on an elbow.

"It’s eStar," Siyuan said, looking a little apologetic. "The coaching staff is trying out a new aggressive lineup for the playoffs. They’re hitting a wall with the jungle-mid synergy and hesitantly asked if I could join the scrim for an hour. They know I’m 'away,' but..."

"Go," Yunfei said, nodding toward the desk in the corner of the room. "The King of the Jungle can't go MIA when his pride needs him. I’ll be fine."

Siyuan lingered for a moment, then walked over to the edge of the bed. "Go to sleep, Yunfei. I’ll be quiet. And don't you dare stay up to watch my replays." He leaned down, a flash of his usual mischievous spirit returning as he winked. "I’m taking you to see the sunrise at the peak tomorrow morning. If you’re too tired to hike, I’m leaving you here."

Yunfei rolled his eyes, settling deep into the pillows. "Just win your scrim, Siyuan."

Siyuan retreated to the desk, the blue light of his phone illuminating his sharp features as he donned his headset. For the next thirty minutes, the quiet of the cabin was filled with the rhythmic, muffled tap-tap-tap of Siyuan’s fingers and his low, occasional commands to his teammates.

Watching Siyuan work—seeing the dedication that mirrored his own—acted like a final sedative for Yunfei’s frayed nerves. He felt a profound sense of safety. Here was a man who was fighting his own battles on a screen, yet refused to leave the room because he wanted to be the first thing Yunfei saw when he woke up.

Under the steady hum of the game and the warmth of the blankets, the "Great General" finally let his guard down completely. His breathing slowed, his eyes grew heavy, and within half an hour, Peng Yunfei was sound asleep, the ghost of a wedding he never wanted finally fading into the mountain mist.

The mountain air at four in the morning was a different kind of cold—it was a thin, biting chill that seeped through the cracks of the cabin walls. Peng Yunfei blinked his eyes open, the heavy fog of sleep slowly lifting. His first instinct was to reach for the bedside table, his fingers finding his glasses and sliding them onto the bridge of his nose.

The world snapped into focus, but the space beside him remained a vast, empty expanse of white linens.

Yunfei frowned, sitting up. The king-sized bed was cold on the other side; the pillows were still fluffed and perfect, completely untouched. Confused, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The wooden floor was ice-cold under his feet, sending a shiver up his spine.

"Siyuan?" he whispered, his voice raspy from sleep.

No answer.

He walked quietly toward the living area, and that’s when he saw him. Luo Siyuan wasn't in the bed because he had never made it that far. The "King of the Jungle" was curled into a tight ball on the narrow sofa, his knees tucked into his chest. He hadn't even bothered to grab a blanket from the closet. He was wearing the same hoodie from the day before, with a thin team jacket draped over his torso that barely reached his waist.

As Yunfei stepped closer, he noticed Siyuan was shivering, a faint, rhythmic tremor running through his shoulders. On the coffee table next to the sofa, Siyuan’s tournament phone was still plugged into the charger, the screen dark now, but the heat emanating from the device suggested he had been scrimming until the very last hour of the night.

Yunfei’s heart sank. He realized what had happened. Siyuan had promised to take him to see the sunrise, but he had worked himself to the point of collapse. He likely didn't want to wake Yunfei up by climbing into bed so late, or perhaps he had simply sat down to rest his eyes for a minute after the scrim ended and had been claimed by total exhaustion.

Yunfei looked at the clock on the wall. The pre-dawn light was just beginning to turn the sky a bruised purple, but the trek to the peak would take at least an hour. If they left now, they might make it, but looking at the way Siyuan was shivering in his sleep, Yunfei knew what the priority was. The sunrise could wait; the man who had spent the last forty-eight hours being a shield needed to be protected for once.

Gently, Yunfei reached down and tucked the edges of Siyuan’s jacket closer to his neck, but it wasn't enough. He walked back to the bedroom, stripped the heavy wool comforter off the bed, and carried it back to the living room.

He draped the thick, warm blanket over Siyuan, carefully tucking it under his feet and around his shoulders. As the warmth hit him, Siyuan’s shivering stopped. He let out a soft, contented sigh in his sleep, his face losing the tension of the night’s work.

Yunfei didn't go back to the bedroom. Instead, he pulled a chair over and sat quietly in the dark, watching the sunrise through the cabin’s glass door. He watched the orange and gold bleed into the sky, reflecting off the frost on the trees. It was beautiful, but the sight of his rival-turned-best-friend finally resting peacefully was a much better view.

Siyuan had been so worried about Peng Yunfei’s reputation and health that he had completely neglected his own. It was a classic Jungler move—sacrificing your own resources to make sure your teammate stayed ahead. But as the sun finally crested the mountain, Yunfei made a silent vow: the next few days wouldn't be about a "rebirth" for just one of them. It was going to be for both.

The sun was high in the sky, casting long, warm rectangles of light across the cabin floor by the time Luo Siyuan finally stirred. He jolted upright, the heavy wool comforter sliding down his chest. His hair was a chaotic nest, and his eyes were wide with a sudden, panicked realization.

"The sunrise!" he gasped, fumbling for his phone on the coffee table. "Yunfei! I—the alarm—I must have..."

"The sun rose at 5:42 AM, Siyuan," Peng Yunfei said calmly from the kitchen island. He was leaning against the counter, a mug of coffee in his hand and a plate of steaming eggs and toast waiting on the table. "You missed it by about four hours. And honestly? The mountains didn't move. They'll still be there tomorrow."

Siyuan groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I’m an idiot. I was supposed to take you up there. I was supposed to be the one keeping things on track."

"Sit down and eat," Yunfei commanded, using that soft but unbreakable 'Captain’s tone' again. "Today is a rest day. And I’m not asking. You scrimmed until your brain fried, and then you froze on a sofa because you were too stubborn to wake me up. You’re lucky I didn’t wake you up with a bucket of water."

Siyuan opened his mouth to argue—the "King of the Jungle" wasn't used to being managed—but the smell of the breakfast and the genuine, steady look in Yunfei’s eyes silenced him. He shuffled to the table, wrapped in the blanket like a oversized cocoon.

Before he could take his first bite, a sharp, rhythmic knocking echoed through the heavy wooden door.

Yunfei opened it to find Gemini standing there, looking remarkably refreshed, though his leg was currently being used as a climbing pole by his young son. The boy was bubbling over with energy, his small hands clutching his father's trousers.

"Papa says Fly is the best!" the boy shouted the moment the door swung open, his eyes widening as he spotted Yunfei. "Are you the Great General? Do you really have a sword?"

Gemini let out a long, theatrical sigh, trying to untangle his son’s grip. "I told him we were visiting a friend, and he spent the entire car ride lecturing me on your win rate from three seasons ago. I’ve created a monster, Yunfei."

Yunfei laughed, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to brighten the entire room. He knelt down to the boy’s level. "I don't have a sword right now, but I have some very good toast. You want to help me make sure Siyuan eats his breakfast?"

Gemini’s wife stepped inside, carrying a small bag of local fruits. she took one look at Siyuan—who was currently staring blearily at his eggs with dark circles under his eyes—and shook her head.

"Luo Siyuan," she said, her voice filled with a gentle but firm authority that even Gemini didn't dare challenge. "You look like you’ve been in a cage match with a literal panda. If you don't finish that food and go back to a real bed for a nap, I’m telling your manager you’re unfit for the playoffs."

Siyuan blinked, looking like a deer in headlights. "I—I’m fine, sister. I just—"

"Go back to sleep, Siyuan," Gemini added, giving his friend a playful nudge as he walked by. "You’ve done enough heavy lifting. Let the 'old man' and the toddler take over for a bit."

The cabin, which had been a fortress of quiet recovery, was suddenly filled with the chaotic, beautiful noise of a real family. Yunfei watched Gemini 'argue' with his son about whether a jungler or a side-laner was more important, while Gemini’s wife shared a knowing look with Yunfei.

In the midst of the laughter and the smell of coffee, the remaining shadows of Yunfei’s cancelled wedding felt like a lifetime ago. He wasn't the man who had been left at the altar; he was a man surrounded by people who wouldn't dream of leaving his side.

With a final, muffled yawn, Luo Siyuan finally surrendered to his exhaustion, stumbling back toward the bedroom under the watchful eye of Gemini’s wife. The door clicked shut, leaving the living room to the soft sounds of Gemini’s son humming to himself while playing with some wooden blocks on the rug.

Gemini waited until the door was fully closed before sliding his phone across the wooden table toward Peng Yunfei.

"Take a look at the trending topics on Weibo," Gemini said, his usual boisterous tone dropping into something more contemplative. "You guys were 'anonymous' for about ten minutes. After that? The internet did what it does best."

Yunfei picked up the phone. He expected the usual tabloid trash about his wedding, but instead, he found a viral thread titled: “Analysis: Did I just get stomped by the 2024 Dream Team in Diamond Rank?”

The post was a work of art. A fan who had been on the opposing team had uploaded a frame-by-frame breakdown of the match. They hadn't just guessed; they had analyzed the frame-data of the rotations, the specific pixel-perfect timing of the 'Fly' side-lane engage, and the aggressive, objective-focused pathing of the 'HuaHai' jungle.

“Look at the gold distribution,” the post read. “Only one person in the KPL has the audacity to steal a buff from HuaHai and live to tell the tale. That’s Fly. And look at the support—the vision placement matches Wuwei’s heatmaps from the Riyadh International exactly. This wasn't a smurf game. This was a reunion.”

Yunfei felt a strange lump in his throat. The analysis was so thorough, so respectful, and so focused on their skill that for a moment, the scandal didn't exist. To the world, they weren't victims or heartbroken men; they were legends playing a game they loved.

"Is that you?" Yunfei glanced at Gemini, suspicious of the coach’s legendary PR skills.

Gemini let out a sharp, genuine laugh. "I wish I had that much free time, Yunfei. But no. That’s just a fan who loves the game as much as you do. They don't care about the gossip. They just saw greatness and wanted to document it."

Gemini leaned back, his expression turning serious as he gestured toward the closed bedroom door. "Rest up today, but make sure you keep an eye on that guy. He’s been driving himself nuts for the past forty-eight hours, trying to find the perfect way to cheer you up. He’s been acting like a shield, but even shields get dented."

Yunfei looked at the door, thinking of Siyuan shivering on the sofa. "He told me last night why he came to the venue alone. He said he was worried the others—Qingrong and the rest—would actually get violent with my ex-fiancé."

Gemini’s laughter this time was a bit darker, more knowing. "He said that? Well, yeah, I have to admit, the others were livid. I had to talk Wuwei out of flying in just to throw a punch. But Yunfei... did he really tell you he was the calm one?"

Yunfei blinked. "Wasn't he?"

"Luo Siyuan is the most dangerous kind of player," Gemini said, his eyes glinting behind his glasses. "The others bark. They yell. They post angry things. But Siyuan? He’s the one who goes silent. When he heard what happened at the altar, he didn't scream. He just stood up and said, 'I'm taking him. No one else touches this.' The reason everyone stayed back wasn't because they were afraid of what they would do. They stayed back because they were afraid of what Siyuan would do if they got in his way."

Gemini shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "He’s been your rival for years, but he’s always been your fiercest protector. He just doesn't know how to say it without a phone in his hand."

Yunfei looked back at the bedroom door. He thought of the "Great General" and the "King of the Jungle"—two titles that had defined their lives. But here, in the quiet of the mountains, those titles were stripping away, leaving behind a loyalty that was far more terrifying, and far more beautiful, than any championship trophy.

The silence of the cabin was periodically broken by the sharp ping of Peng Yunfei’s personal phone. Now that the world knew where he was—or at least, who he was with—the floodgates had opened. Among the thousands of supportive messages from fans and fellow pros, a series of notifications popped up that made Yunfei’s jaw tighten.

It was the ex-fiancé.

The tone of the messages had shifted drastically from the cold, dismissive insults of the wedding day. Now that the "Dream Team" had inadvertently turned the tide of public opinion, the ex-fiancé was panic-stricken. “Yunfei, please pick up. The media is hounding my family.” “I was under so much pressure from my parents, I didn't mean what I said about the 'bet'.” “Let’s meet. I can explain everything. We can still fix this.”

Yunfei looked at the screen, his expression unreadable. A few days ago, these words might have shattered him. Now, they just felt like static. He realized that the man he had almost married didn't miss him; he missed the protection of Yunfei’s reputation. Without a word, Yunfei tapped the contact and hit Block. No explanation, no final argument. The "Great General" simply removed a piece from the board that no longer belonged there.

“Done with the trash?” Gemini asked, watching from the armchair as he shared a snack with his son.

“Done,” Yunfei replied. He felt a sudden, lighthearted impulse. He didn't want to release a long, lawyer-drafted statement. He wanted to speak the language he and his friends understood: the truth.

He stepped onto the balcony and snapped a photo of the sun, now high and brilliant over the peaks. Then, he turned back into the room. He took a quick, smiling selfie with Gemini—carefully angling the camera so Gemini’s wife and son were out of the frame, respecting their privacy. Finally, he snuck into the bedroom. Luo Siyuan was still a lump under the comforter, only a messy tuft of hair visible. Yunfei snapped a gag photo of the "King of the Jungle" looking like a giant, fluffy cocoon.

He opened his social media and posted the set of photos with a simple caption:

“The sun still rises. Grateful for the people who walk the path with me. I’m doing well.”

The moment he hit 'Send,' the bedroom door creaked open. Siyuan emerged, looking like he’d been through a centrifuge. His eyes were half-closed, and his movements were sluggish as he shuffled toward the kitchen.

"What did you post?" Siyuan croaked, his voice thick with sleep. "I felt a disturbance in the Force."

Gemini let out a mischievous cackle, holding up his own phone. "Oh, look! You're not dead after all. And look at that—you’re trending for being a very expensive-looking burrito."

"Shut up, Old Man," Siyuan mumbled, swatting blindly at the air in Gemini’s general direction. He bypassed everyone and headed straight for the coffee pot, his hand shaking slightly as he reached for a mug.

Before his fingers could touch the handle, Yunfei stepped in, sliding the pot out of reach.

"Peng Yunfei," Siyuan warned, his voice a low, sleep-deprived growl.

"Luo Siyuan," Yunfei shot back, his eyes steady. "No coffee. I’m serious. I’m actually scared your heart will burst from how much caffeine you’ve used to keep yourself upright for the last forty-eight hours. You’re drinking water. Then you’re eating. Then you’re sitting down."

Siyuan stared at him, his brow furrowing as he tried to summon his 'King of the Jungle' authority, but he was standing in his socks, wrapped in a blanket, facing a man who looked more alive than he had in years. The power dynamic had shifted. The protected had become the protector.

"Fine," Siyuan huffed, though he didn't look truly angry. He slumped into a chair at the table. "But if I fall asleep in my soup, it’s your fault."

Yunfei smiled, pouring a glass of water and setting it in front of Siyuan. "I'll be right here to catch you if you do."

Gemini watched the two of them, a knowing look passing between him and his wife. The scandal was fading, the ex was blocked, and the "Dream Team" was united. But as he looked at the way Yunfei lingered by Siyuan’s chair, he knew the real story was only just beginning.

The cabin felt cavernously quiet once the whirlwind of Gemini’s family had departed. The echoes of the toddler’s laughter and Gemini’s boisterous coaching critiques still hung in the air, but the reality of being alone again settled over them like a soft blanket.

Luo Siyuan looked like he was about to nod off standing up, his eyes glazed and staring blankly at a coaster on the table. Knowing that a nap now would ruin Siyuan's sleep cycle—and wanting to get him away from the "work" environment of his tournament phone—Peng Yunfei grabbed two thick jackets from the mudroom.

"Come on," Yunfei said, tossing a jacket at Siyuan’s head. "Short walk. There’s a stream about ten minutes away. The air will do you better than a fourth espresso."

Siyuan grumbled, but he followed. The path was narrow, carpeted with pine needles that dampened the sound of their footsteps. As they walked, the only sound was the distant, rhythmic rush of water and the occasional call of a mountain bird. The cold was crisp, the kind that cleared the lungs and forced the mind to stay present.

They reached a small clearing where a crystal-clear stream bubbled over smooth, grey stones. Siyuan found a flat rock and sat down, pulling his knees up and exhaling a long plume of white mist.

"So," Siyuan said, his voice softer now, stripped of the bravado he used around the others. "Now that the dust is settling... what are you going to do with the 'wedding fund'? I know you’d been saving for years. It’s a lot of gold to have just sitting in your inventory."

Yunfei leaned against a sturdy pine tree, looking at the water. "I don't know," he admitted honestly. "A week ago, that money was my future. Now, it’s just a number in a bank account. I think I’ll just let it sit there for a while. I want to take everything slow, Siyuan. No big moves. No sudden pivots. Just... breathing."

Siyuan nodded, his gaze fixed on the ripples of the stream. "That's smart. If you ever need help with—well, anything—you know you can ask. Even if it's just someone to help you spend it on something stupid, like a gold-plated gaming chair."

Yunfei let out a quiet chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind."

As the conversation drifted into a comfortable silence, Yunfei found himself watching Siyuan. From this angle, with the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees and hitting Siyuan’s profile, Yunfei felt a strange, sudden jolt of realization.

He had known Siyuan for five years. They had shared hotel rooms, training facilities, and long-haul flights to international tournaments. He had seen Siyuan at his absolute worst—sweaty and sleep-deprived after a twenty-hour practice session, or face-down on a desk after a loss. He was used to the "casual" Luo Siyuan.

But here, away from the harsh fluorescent lights of the arena and the blue glare of the screens, Siyuan looked... different. The sharp line of his jaw, the way his lashes cast long shadows against his cheeks, and the quiet, fierce intelligence in his eyes. He was undeniably handsome. It was a realization that felt like a missed skill-shot—startling and slightly jarring.

They had lived together as a 'Dream Team,' sharing a bond that bridged the gap between rivals and brothers. But as Yunfei watched Siyuan reach down to skip a pebble across the water, he realized that the "Dream Team" wasn't just a memory of a tournament in Saudi Arabia. It was the two of them, right here.

"What?" Siyuan asked, catching Yunfei’s gaze. He tilted his head, a faint, curious smile playing on his lips. "Do I have something on my face? Or are you just realizing I’m the better-looking one of the two of us?"

Yunfei didn't look away this time. He just smiled, a small, genuine thing. "Something like that, Jungler. Something like that."

The sky hadn't just turned gray; it had turned a bruised, violent charcoal. The wind began to howl through the pines, a sound like a distant freight train, and before they were halfway back to the cabin, the clouds burst. It wasn't a gentle mountain mist—it was a freezing, torrential downpour.

"Run!" Luo Siyuan shouted over the roar of the rain. He didn't wait for an answer, placing a firm hand on Peng Yunfei’s back and physically shoving him forward. Siyuan stayed a step behind, acting as a human windbreak, his own thin jacket soaking through in seconds while he ensured Yunfei reached the porch first.

The moment they slammed the cabin door shut, the world went black.

A crack of lightning shook the foundation, and the hum of the refrigerator and the glow of the stove clock vanished. They were plunged into a darkness so thick it felt physical. Yunfei tried the light switches, then the reset box near the door, but the storm had clearly claimed a transformer down the mountain.

"The fireplace," Siyuan suggested, his voice sounding oddly hollow in the dark.

They spent the next ten minutes fumbling with matches and damp kindling, but the chimney was drawing in too much cold, damp air from the storm. The small sparks flickered and died, leaving them shivering in the center of the room.

"Give it up," Siyuan muttered, his teeth beginning to chatter. "We need... we need to just hold onto the heat we have. The blanket. Get the blanket, Yunfei."

They retreated to the sofa, the only place wide enough to huddle. In the intimate, heavy darkness, the sound of the rain lashing the glass became a backdrop for a conversation that should have happened years ago.

Siyuan’s voice came out of the shadows, low and hesitant. "If the wedding had actually happened... would you have been happy?"

Yunfei stared into the blackness, feeling the weight of the question. "Maybe. At least I think so," he whispered. "I thought it was what I was supposed to do. But now that this happened... I'm not so sure anymore. Everything I thought was 'solid' turned out to be a bet. It makes you wonder if the happiness was a lie, too."

He turned his head, trying to find Siyuan’s silhouette in the gloom. He wanted to ask Siyuan what happiness looked like to him—if it was a trophy, a gold medal, or something quieter. But as his eyes adjusted to the faint, dying glow of the single candle they’d managed to light, he noticed the distance.

Yunfei was wrapped in the thick wool comforter, the heavy fabric trapping his body heat. But Siyuan was sitting a foot away on the edge of the cushions, huddled only in his thin, soaked team jacket. He wasn't reaching for the blanket. He wasn't even looking at it.

"Hey, Luo Siyuan?" Yunfei called out.

No answer. Siyuan’s head was lolling forward, his chin hitting his chest in a slow, rhythmic nod.

"Luo Siyuan!" Yunfei reached out, his hand brushing against Siyuan’s neck.

He recoiled. Siyuan wasn't just cold; he was a block of ice. His skin was clammy, and a violent, fine tremor was racking his frame—the kind of shivering that signaled the body was losing the fight against exhaustion. The lack of sleep, the stress of the rescue, the late-night scrims, and now the soaking rain had finally breached the 'King of the Jungle's' last line of defense.

"Siyuan! You’re freezing!"

Yunfei didn't ask. He moved with the decisive speed of a man blinking across a map to save a teammate. He grabbed Siyuan’s arm, shocked by how heavy and limp the younger man felt. Siyuan didn't resist; he simply tipped over, his head landing heavily on Yunfei’s shoulder. His breathing was shallow, his face a ghostly pale mask in the dim light.

"Stupid... stubborn... jungler," Yunfei hissed, his voice cracking with a mixture of anger and fear.

He threw the heavy wool comforter over both of them, dragging Siyuan into the center of the sofa. He didn't care about personal space or the awkwardness of the previous days. He pulled Siyuan flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around him in a crushing embrace. He used his own palms to rub Siyuan’s arms, trying to friction some life back into his blood.

Siyuan let out a broken, shivering whimper, his body instinctively seeking the furnace of Yunfei’s warmth. His hands, usually so steady and lethal on a screen, clutched weakly at Yunfei’s hoodie, his knuckles white and trembling.

"I’ve got you," Yunfei whispered into the damp hair at Siyuan’s temple. He tucked the blanket tightly around Siyuan’s back, creating a sealed pocket of air. "I’m here. Just breathe, Siyuan. Just breathe."

For years, Yunfei had been the 'Great General' who led the charge, but he realized now that Siyuan had been his shadow, taking the hits so Yunfei could stay standing. But tonight, the shadow had collapsed. The roles were finally, completely reversed. The side-laner was the fortress, and the jungler was finally allowed to stop running.

As the storm rattled the cabin and the temperature dropped, Yunfei held him tighter, vowing that he wouldn't let go until Siyuan’s heart beat as steadily as his own.

The silence of the cabin was no longer peaceful; it was suffocating. Peng Yunfei sat on the floor, leaning against the sofa with Luo Siyuan practically draped across his lap. He could feel Siyuan’s body temperature beginning to rise—not the healthy warmth of someone recovering from a chill, but the dry, radiating heat of a fever born from absolute exhaustion.

Yunfei pressed the back of his hand to Siyuan’s forehead. It was burning.

"Siyuan? Hey, wake up," Yunfei urged, his voice tight. Siyuan didn't even moan; his head just shifted limply against Yunfei’s chest.

Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through Yunfei’s usual composure. He was the "Great General," the man who made split-second decisions under the pressure of a million viewers, but here in the dark, with his best friend’s life in his hands, he felt paralyzed. His mind raced through the names of his teammates, his manager, his family—but only one person stood out as a beacon of stability.

Gemini. Gemini had seen everything in this industry. He had managed crises, health scares, and emotional breakdowns for years. He was the only one level-headed enough to fix this when Yunfei couldn't even think straight. Yunfei closed his eyes for a second, forcing himself to visualize the map. He remembered Gemini mentioning the hotel name—The Alpine Peak Lodge—only a few kilometers down the mountain road.

Yunfei didn't hesitate. He knew if he waited for the power to come back or the rain to stop, Siyuan might get worse. He stood up, hoisting Siyuan into his arms. Siyuan was a professional athlete, lean but solid, yet he felt strangely light, as if his spirit had simply retreated to save energy. Yunfei wrapped the heavy wool comforter around Siyuan like a cocoon and carried him out into the rain.

The dash to the car was a blur of freezing water and mud. He settled Siyuan into the passenger seat, reclining it fully, and threw his own jacket over the blanket for extra insulation. As the engine roared to life, the dashboard clock glowed: 3:14 AM.

Another day had passed. Time was slipping through his fingers.

As he navigated the winding, slippery mountain road, the windshield wipers struggling against the downpour, Yunfei’s mind began to replay the last seventy-two hours in high-definition.

He saw Siyuan’s face through the glass of his car window on the night of the wedding—the fierce determination in his eyes when everyone else was looking at Yunfei with pity. He remembered the way Siyuan had practically forced him into the ranked match, using the game they loved to pull him out of the abyss. He thought about the early morning drive, Siyuan’s panda-like eyebags, and the way the younger man had stayed up until dawn to scrim with eStar just to make sure the "Dream Team" stayed sharp for Yunfei.

He’s been running on nothing, Yunfei realized, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. He spent his own life-force to keep mine from flickering out.

He remembered Gemini’s wife forcing Siyuan to nap earlier that day. At the time, they had laughed about it, but now Yunfei realized that short hour of sleep was like trying to put out a forest fire with a cup of water. Siyuan hadn't been "resting"; he had been collapsing in slow motion.

"Don't you dare do this, Luo Siyuan," Yunfei whispered, his eyes burning as he squinted through the rain. "You spent three days saving me. You don't get to leave before I return the favor."

The lights of the Alpine Peak Lodge finally flickered through the trees. Yunfei didn't care about the late hour or his own disheveled appearance. He pulled up to the entrance, left the engine running, and sprinted toward the lobby, shouting for Gemini before he even hit the front desk.

The lobby of the Alpine Peak Lodge was a sanctuary of warm wood and soft amber lighting—until Peng Yunfei burst through the doors. He looked like a man who had walked through an apocalypse. His hair was matted with rain, his hoodie was soaked through, and his eyes carried a frantic, wild energy that didn't belong in a high-end resort.

"I need Guo Jiayi! Gemini! Room 402!" Yunfei’s voice cracked, echoing off the high-beamed ceilings.

The night staff, a young man in a crisp uniform, stood up quickly, his face a mask of professional alarm. "Sir, please. You’re dripping on the rug. You need to calm down. If there’s an emergency, I can call—"

"I don't need the police, I need him!" Yunfei stepped closer, his hands trembling. He knew how he looked. He knew that if a guest walked out right now and snapped a photo, the headline would be: 'Heartbroken Fly Loses It in Mountain Resort.' But the logic that usually governed his life had been drowned out by the terrifying heat of Luo Siyuan’s feverish skin.

"Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave if you continue to shout," another staff member said, stepping out from behind a partition, his hand hovering near a security radio. "You're disturbing the guests."

"My friend is in the car! He’s not waking up!" Yunfei’s voice rose to a desperate shout. "Just get Gemini! Tell him it’s Fly! Please!"

The staff members exchanged a wary, skeptical look. To them, he was just a delirious stranger in the middle of the night. As the security guard moved forward to physically guide Yunfei toward the exit, a sharp, authoritative voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Take your hands off him."

Gemini stood at the top of the grand staircase, still wearing his pajamas but with a heavy coat thrown over his shoulders. His hair was messy, but his eyes were instantly sharp, taking in the scene with the practiced ease of a man who had handled a hundred back-stage crises.

"Coach," Yunfei breathed, the word coming out as a sob of relief.

"He's with me," Gemini said to the staff, his tone brooking no argument as he descended the stairs rapidly. He didn't waste time with questions. He saw the state of Yunfei’s clothes and the sheer panic in his posture. "Where is he?"

"The car. He’s burning up, Coach. He won't wake up."

Gemini’s expression shifted instantly from concern to total tactical focus. "Call the local clinic," he barked at the front desk, his 'Head Coach' voice returning in full force. "Tell them we have a case of extreme exhaustion and a high fever. Now. And get me a luggage cart and three dry blankets."

Gemini grabbed Yunfei’s arm, grounding him. "Yunfei, look at me. Breathe. You did the right thing. Let's go get him."

The two of them sprinted out into the rain. Gemini didn't flinch as the downpour soaked his pajamas. When they reached the car, Gemini leaned in, checking Siyuan’s pulse and the heat radiating from his face.

"God, Siyuan," Gemini muttered, his voice softening with a rare, paternal worry. "You really don't do anything halfway, do you?"

The transition from the freezing rain to the heated lobby felt like a physical blow. Peng Yunfei didn't wait for the luggage cart. He ignored the staff’s reaching hands and the luggage rack. He simply slid his arms under the heavy, sodden wool comforter and lifted Luo Siyuan into his arms. Siyuan’s head fell back, his throat bared and his face flushed a dangerous, sickly crimson.

"Sir, we have the cart—" a staff member started.

"Move," Yunfei growled. It wasn't the voice of a professional player; it was the low, territorial warning of a man who was done being polite.

He carried Siyuan through the lobby, his boots squelching and leaving a trail of mountain mud across the pristine carpet. He didn't feel the weight. He didn't feel the fatigue in his own muscles. He only felt the terrifying, dry heat coming off Siyuan’s body, a fever so high it felt like it was trying to cook the younger man from the inside out.

Gemini led them into a private medical suite near the back of the lodge—a service provided for high-end guests. When they reached the examination bed, a local doctor and a nurse were already waiting.

"Put him down, Yunfei," Gemini said softly, placing a hand on Yunfei’s shoulder.

Yunfei didn't move. He stood by the bed, his grip on Siyuan tightening instinctively. His knuckles were white, his fingers hooked into the fabric of the blanket as if letting go meant Siyuan would vanish into the air.

"Yunfei," Gemini’s voice was firmer now, the 'Coach' tone returning. "You’ve done your part. You got him here. Now you have to let the people who know what they're doing take over. Let go."

"He’s not waking up," Yunfei whispered, his eyes fixed on Siyuan’s closed lids. "He was fine an hour ago. He was talking about happiness... and then he just..."

"He’s exhausted, Yunfei. His body has literally shut down to protect itself," the doctor said, gently but firmly prying Yunfei’s hands away. "We need to get these wet clothes off him and start an IV for the dehydration. Please, step back."

Yunfei stumbled back, his arms feeling strangely light and cold without Siyuan’s weight. Gemini caught him by the elbow, guiding him toward a chair in the corner of the room. Gemini’s wife, who had appeared quietly in the doorway, draped a dry towel over Yunfei’s shivering shoulders and pressed a cup of hot water into his hands.

Yunfei sat there, motionless, watching as they worked. They stripped Siyuan of the wet hoodie and jacket, revealing how thin he had actually become over the last few months of a grueling season—and how much thinner he looked now, drained by seventy-two hours of self-neglect. The sight of the IV needle sliding into Siyuan’s arm made Yunfei flinch and look away.

"He's going to be okay," Gemini said, sitting in the chair next to him. He was watching the doctor work, but his focus was on Yunfei. "The fever is the body’s way of screaming for a break. He’ll sleep for a day or two, and he’ll be weak, but he’ll be okay."

The medical suite was eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic, mechanical hiss of the oxygen concentrator and the steady drip of the IV bag. The harsh, fluorescent lights had been dimmed, leaving the room in a soft, clinical blue glow. Luo Siyuan looked smaller in the hospital bed, his face finally losing that terrifying flush, though he remained deep in a sleep that looked more like a trance than rest.

Peng Yunfei sat in the plastic chair beside the bed, his fingers laced together so tightly his knuckles were white. He was wearing a borrowed dry tracksuit from Gemini, but he still felt a phantom chill in his bones.

Gemini stood by the window, watching the rain lash against the glass. He had been quiet for a long time, letting the silence settle between them until the doctor had finally left the room.

"You know," Gemini said, his voice low so as not to disturb the sleeper. "Siyuan has always been a terrible liar. He can deceive an entire team on the map, but in real life, his face is an open book. At least to me."

Yunfei looked up, his eyes tired. "What do you mean, Coach?"

Gemini turned around, leaning his lower back against the windowsill. "He’s been miserable for months, Yunfei. Long before the wedding. He was keeping tabs on your relationship, watching you disappear into that life with someone who didn't even understand why you play. He saw how thin you were getting, how quiet you were in the group chats. He knew you were unhappy before you even realized it yourself."

Yunfei’s breath hitched. "He never said a word. He just... he acted like everything was normal."

"Because he was terrified," Gemini countered, stepping closer to the bed. "He found out about the 'bet' a few weeks ago. One of the circles he runs in overlaps with your ex-fiancé’s friends. Someone bragged about it at a dinner. Siyuan nearly lost his mind. He wanted to storm your house that night."

Yunfei stared at Siyuan’s pale hand resting on the white sheets. "Why didn't he? Why let me go to the altar?"

"Because he’s Luo Siyuan," Gemini said with a sad, knowing smile. "He didn't think the guy would actually go through with it at the wedding. He thought—he hoped—that even a coward would have a shred of decency left. But more than that, he was scared of you, Yunfei. He was scared that if he told you, you’d think he was just trying to sabotage your happiness because of the rivalry. He thought you’d hate him for ruining the one 'normal' thing you had outside of gaming."

Yunfei felt a wave of nausea hit him. All those months he had felt lonely in his own relationship, Siyuan had been standing in the shadows, holding a truth that was burning him alive, all to protect a version of Yunfei's happiness that was a lie anyway.

"He told me once, over a drink," Gemini continued, his voice softening. "He said, 'If I tell him and I'm wrong, I lose my best friend. If I don't tell him and I'm right, I lose him to a ghost.' He chose to wait. He decided that if it all fell apart, he would be the one standing there to catch the pieces. He had his phone ready for three days straight before that ceremony."

Yunfei reached out, his hand hovering over Siyuan's before finally settling gently on his wrist, right next to the IV line. The pulse was slow but steady.

He realized now that the "panda eyes," the exhaustion, and the desperate scramble to get to the cabin weren't just about a friend helping a friend. It was a rescue mission months in the making. Siyuan hadn't just saved him from a scandal; he had been waiting in the dark to save Yunfei from himself.

"Stupid," Yunfei whispered, though his eyes were wet. "He's so stupid."

"He’s a Jungler," Gemini said, patting Yunfei on the shoulder as he headed for the door to give them some privacy. "They always take the most damage so the Side-laner can carry the game. Just make sure that when he wakes up, you tell him the game isn't over."

The morning light was a pale, sickly gray as it filtered through the blinds, but it was enough to show that the storm had finally exhausted itself. Inside the medical suite, the silence was broken by a soft, rhythmic beeping and the sudden, sharp rustle of bedsheets.

Peng Yunfei, who had spent the last few hours in a shallow, uneasy doze, sat up instantly. He watched as Luo Siyuan’s eyelids fluttered, his brow furrowing as he fought his way back to consciousness.

Siyuan didn’t wake up slowly. He gasped, his eyes snapping open with a jolt of localized panic, his hand immediately flying up to rip at the IV line in his arm.

"Siyuan! Hey, stop, it’s okay," Yunfei said, standing up and gently catching Siyuan’s wrist.

Siyuan’s eyes were bloodshot and hazy, but the moment they focused on Yunfei, his entire posture changed. He didn’t ask where he was. He didn’t ask why his arm was hooked to a bag of saline. His first instinct—honed by three days of single-minded focus—was to scan Yunfei from head to toe.

"Yunfei..." Siyuan’s voice was a dry, painful rasp. He swallowed hard, his eyes lingering on the borrowed tracksuit Yunfei was wearing. "You... you changed. Are you dry? Did you get warm? You were shivering in the cabin... I remember the rain..."

"I'm fine, Siyuan. I'm dry. I'm warm," Yunfei replied, his voice thick with emotion. He tried to push Siyuan back down onto the pillows. "You’re the one who collapsed. You’ve been out for hours. You have a fever."

Siyuan ignored the instruction, his jaw tightening as he tried to push himself up into a sitting position. The effort made his face go dangerously pale, and a fine tremor returned to his hands, but he forced himself upward anyway.

"I'm fine," Siyuan lied, his breathing coming in short, shallow bursts. "Just a bit of a chill. I shouldn't have fallen asleep on that sofa. We should... we should get back to the cabin. I promised you the sunrise. If we move now, we can catch it today."

"Siyuan, stop it," Yunfei said, his tone sharpening. He placed a hand on Siyuan’s chest—feeling the heat still radiating through the thin hospital gown—and forced him to stay still. "Gemini told me everything. He told me how long you’ve known about the bet. He told me how you’ve been watching me for months. Why didn't you say anything?"

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. Siyuan’s gaze, which had been frantic and searching, suddenly went flat. He looked away, his eyes fixing on a spot on the far wall. The "King of the Jungle" was retreating into the thickest part of the brush.

"Coach talks too much," Siyuan said, his voice regaining a bit of its usual sharp edge, though it was still weak. "He likes the drama. I just didn't want the wedding to be awkward. Besides, it wasn't my place to interfere in your personal life. I'm just your rival, remember? It would have looked like I was trying to mess with your head before the playoffs."

"You expect me to believe that?" Yunfei challenged, leaning closer. "You nearly killed yourself over the last three days to keep me from feeling alone. You knew I was being treated like a joke and you carried that secret alone because you were scared of me?"

Siyuan let out a short, jagged laugh, finally looking back at Yunfei. His eyes were shiny with fever, but there was a raw, defensive wall behind them. "I'm not scared of you, Yunfei. I'm scared of losing the only person who actually understands what it's like to be me. Now, can we stop talking about this? It’s embarrassing. Is there any water? My throat feels like I swallowed glass."

It was a classic Siyuan move: a smooth deflection followed by a tactical retreat into a physical need. He was shutting the door, refusing to let Yunfei see the vulnerability that Gemini had laid bare. He sat there, shivering slightly despite the heated room, his pride the only thing keeping his spine straight.

The air in the medical suite was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the lingering tension of a lie that was wearing thin. Luo Siyuan was never one to stay down; his entire professional career was built on his ability to find a way out of a corner, to flash out of danger at the last possible millisecond. But as he tried to swing his legs over the side of the hospital bed, the reality of his physical state finally caught up with his stubbornness.

"I’m telling you, I’m fine," Siyuan insisted, his voice a ghost of its usual self. "It was just a dip in blood sugar. If I stay in this bed, I’m going to go crazy. Let’s just—"

He pushed off the mattress, his feet hitting the linoleum floor with a soft thud. For a split second, he stood tall, his jaw set in defiance. Then, the color drained from his face. His vision swirled into a vortex of gray and black, and his knees simply gave way, turning into water beneath him.

"Siyuan!"

Peng Yunfei moved with a speed that bypassed thought. He lunged forward, his arms catching Siyuan around the waist and shoulders just as the younger man’s body began to collapse toward the floor. The momentum carried them both down, Yunfei’s back hitting the side of the bed as he slid to the ground, pulling Siyuan’s limp weight directly into his lap.

They ended up on the cold floor, Siyuan’s head lolling back against Yunfei’s chest, his breathing coming in ragged, panicked gasps. The IV line had tautened, the pole rattling ominously beside them.

"You idiot," Yunfei breathed, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Will you stop? Just for one second, will you stop acting like you’re invincible?"

Even now, trapped in Yunfei’s embrace and unable to even lift his own head, Siyuan wouldn't stop fighting the narrative. He let out a weak, shaky huff of laughter, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"Gemini... he’s a storyteller, Yunfei," Siyuan wheezed, his fingers twitching as they rested on Yunfei’s forearm. "You know how he is. He likes the 'grand narrative.' He probably told you I’ve been pining away in a dark room like a drama lead. He’s making it up. He just wants us to be 'bonded' so the Dream Team has a better story for the media."

"He told me you’ve been watching me for months, Siyuan. He told me you knew about the bet and you were terrified I’d hate you if you spoke up."

"He’s lying," Siyuan whispered, though his voice lacked any real conviction. He tried to pull away, but he didn't have the strength to move an inch. "I was just... I was busy. I have my own team to worry about. Why would I spend my time stalking your relationship? I’m the King of the Jungle, not a private investigator."

"Then why are you here?" Yunfei’s voice dropped to a low, dangerous frequency. He shifted his grip, turning Siyuan slightly so he could look down into those clouded, stubborn eyes. "Why did you drive through the night? Why did you play ranked until your hands cramped? Why are you currently shaking in my arms because you haven't slept in three days while trying to make sure I didn't have a breakdown?"

Siyuan’s mouth opened, a deflection ready on the tip of his tongue, but nothing came out. The wall he had built between them—the wall of 'rivalry' and 'professional distance'—was crumbling under the sheer weight of his own physical failure.

"Is it so hard?" Yunfei asked softly, his hand moving to cup the side of Siyuan's flushed face. "Is it so hard to just admit that you care? That it wasn't just about the game?"

Siyuan’s eyes finally met Yunfei’s. The sarcasm was gone. The deflection was gone. In their place was a raw, naked vulnerability that made Yunfei’s chest ache. Siyuan’s lip trembled, and for the first time since the wedding night, the 'King' looked like he was about to break.

"If I admitted it," Siyuan whispered, his voice so small it was almost lost to the hum of the room, "everything would change. And I couldn't risk losing the only version of 'us' I was allowed to have."

The floor was cold, but the heat radiating between them was a heavy, grounding force. Luo Siyuan lay against Peng Yunfei’s chest, his strength entirely spent, his breath hitching as he fought back the shadows of a memory he had tried to bury years ago.

"I didn't want to go back there," Siyuan whispered, his voice cracking. "To that time."

Yunfei felt a sharp pang in his heart as Siyuan’s words echoed their conversation from the balcony. He remembered Siyuan describing that "darkest time"—the isolation, the betrayal, and the crushing weight of feeling like a "temporary hobby" to someone he had trusted. Siyuan wasn't just tired from a few days of gaming; he was exhausted from years of building a fortress around his heart, a fortress he had only dismantled to save Yunfei from the same fate.

"You're not going back there," Yunfei said firmly, tightening his grip. "I'm right here. I'm not leaving."

Siyuan let out a long, shaky exhale, his body finally beginning to go limp as the adrenaline surrendered to the sedative effect of the fever. Even as his consciousness slipped away, the "Deflector" made one last, desperate attempt to protect the status quo.

"Don't... don't worry about it," Siyuan murmured, his eyes slowly losing their focus. "This doesn't... doesn't change us. Still friends. Nothing changes. You shouldn't worry about me. You're the one who got stood up three days ago, you must have felt... much more—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. His spirit finally gave in to the exhaustion, and he fell into a deep, heavy sleep.

It was a blatant lie, a final piece of armor he had tried to strap on even as he fell. He was terrified that by admitting the depth of his care, he had shifted the gravity of their world so much that it might shatter. He wanted to give Yunfei an out—a way to pretend this was all just a side-effect of a mountain storm and a bad flu.

"Siyuan?" Yunfei called softly.

But the King of the Jungle was gone. His head tilted to the side, resting against Yunfei’s collarbone. His breathing deepened, becoming slow and rhythmic. The fever was still there, but the violent shivering had stopped. He had said his piece, tried to fix the world one last time, and then finally allowed his mind to go dark.

Peng Yunfei sat there on the cold linoleum, holding the man who had quite literally carried his soul for the last three days. He understood why Siyuan was still lying, even in his delirium. Siyuan didn't want to pull him into another mess of complicated feelings so soon after the trauma of the altar. He wanted to be the "safe harbor," not another storm for Yunfei to navigate.

But as Yunfei sat in the silence, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out with his free hand, the light of the screen stinging his eyes. More messages from unknown numbers. More frantic paragraphs from the ex-fiancé.

“Yunfei, I’m seeing the posts. People are saying you’re with HuaHai. Don't let him ruin our image. We can still make a statement together. I still love you.”

Yunfei looked at the word "love" and felt nothing but a cold, distant pity. He looked down at the man in his arms—the man who was currently burning up with a fever because he couldn't bear the thought of Yunfei being alone; the man who had risked his reputation, his health, and his pride just to be a shield.

That was love.

The ex-fiancé loved the "Great General," the champion, the public figure. But Luo Siyuan loved the man who stole his jungle buffs, the man who sat in silence on mountain balconies, and the man who was currently broken.

Yunfei realized with a startling, crystalline clarity that he had been looking for a home in a marriage that was a business deal, while his real home had been sitting across from him at tournament desks for five years. Siyuan wanted to keep it buried to protect him, but Yunfei was done being protected. He was a Side-laner; it was time for him to clear the path.

Gently, Yunfei maneuvered them both up, calling for the nurse to help him settle Siyuan back into the bed. As the medical staff adjusted the IV, Yunfei didn't leave. He pulled his chair closer than ever, his hand never leaving Siyuan’s.

"You're a terrible liar, Siyuan," Yunfei whispered to the sleeping man. "And when you wake up, I'm not letting you get away with it again."

The afternoon sun was relentless, piercing through the hospital blinds and painting bars of gold across the white linoleum floor. Luo Siyuan stirred, his body feeling like it had been dismantled and put back together by someone who didn't quite know where the parts went. His fever had receded, leaving him shivering and lightheaded, but his mind was already racing, gears turning as he tried to reconstruct the events of the previous night.

He saw Peng Yunfei sitting by the bed, his face lit by the glow of a smartphone.

"You're awake," Yunfei said, his voice soft but carrying a newfound weight.

Siyuan licked his dry lips, his eyes immediately darting to the IV in his arm and then back to Yunfei. "The cabin... the storm... did we get the car back? Is Gemini—"

"Siyuan, stop," Yunfei interrupted. He leaned forward, turning his phone screen toward Siyuan.

Siyuan squinted. It was a photo of their hands—Siyuan’s pale, IV-bruised hand resting inside Yunfei’s steady, tan palm. The caption beneath it was simple: “Finding out who stays when the lights go out.”

Siyuan’s heart did a violent somersault against his ribs. "Delete it," he whispered, his voice trembling with a sudden, sharp spike of anxiety. "Yunfei, delete it right now. People... people will get the wrong idea. They’ll think we’re... that we weren't just—"

"They’ll think what, Siyuan?" Yunfei asked quietly. "That I love the man who saved my life? That you’re the only person I want to see when I wake up?"

"We aren't in a real... a real situation like that," Siyuan stammered, his eyes filling with that familiar, defensive panic. "You're vulnerable. You're hurt. You’re just confused because of the wedding. You don't actually—"

Yunfei didn't let him finish. He leaned in, his hand moving from Siyuan’s wrist to his cheek, and pressed his lips against Siyuan’s in a firm, lingering kiss. It wasn't the tentative kiss of a "confused" man; it was an anchor. It was a statement that silenced the room and the frantic whirling of Siyuan’s thoughts.

When Yunfei pulled back, Siyuan was breathless, his mouth slightly parted in shock.

"I’m not confused," Yunfei said, his forehead resting against Siyuan’s. "I realized something last night while I was holding you on the floor. I spent years looking for a home in a person who only loved my shadow. But the man I should have been looking at was right beside me this whole time—on the other side of the tournament stage. I just didn't realize it until the lights went out."

Siyuan’s eyes were wide, his "Deflector" walls finally lying in ruins. "But the public... the fans... your reputation..."

"I know," Yunfei said, his expression softening as he looked at the screen. He tapped the 'Save to Drafts' button. "I'm not posting it. Not yet."

He watched the post vanish into the storage folder. Yunfei wasn't a fool; he knew the reality of their world. If he posted that photo now, only four days after being left at the altar, the internet would devour them. The ex-fiancé would weaponize it, claiming Yunfei had been the unfaithful one, that Siyuan was a homewrecker. The narrative would flip, and Siyuan would be dragged back into the "darkest time" of his life—the isolation, the public hatred, the feeling of being a villain in his own story.

"I can wait," Yunfei whispered, squeezing Siyuan’s hand. "I’ve waited five years to realize this. I can wait a few more months for the world to catch up. I won't let them hurt you, Siyuan. Not a second time."

Siyuan let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for half a decade. He leaned back into the pillows, his fingers curling around Yunfei’s. For the first time, he didn't try to sit up. He didn't try to run. He just let himself be cared for, knowing that the "General" was finally standing guard over him.

The peace of the medical suite was shattered by a sound that could only be described as a high-pitched "squawk." Gemini had entered the room with a tray of food, only to freeze mid-step. His eyes landed on the hospital bed where Luo Siyuan and Peng Yunfei were squeezed together—Siyuan leaning against Yunfei’s shoulder, their fingers still intertwined over the white covers.

"I—you—two!" Gemini sputtered, the tray rattling in his hands. "I leave for one hour to get decent congee, and you’ve turned my medical rescue mission into a romance drama? Do you have any idea what my blood pressure is doing right now?"

"Oh, stop it, Old Man," Siyuan teased, his voice much stronger than before, a mischievous glint back in his eyes. "You’re just jealous because you don't have anyone to share a tiny bed with at four in the afternoon."

"I am married! I have a son!" Gemini shouted, waving a spoon theatrically. "I have achieved the peak of social stability! You two are a public relations nightmare waiting to happen!"

The door creaked open again, and Gemini’s wife walked in. She took one look at her husband’s red face, then at the two players on the bed, and let out a soft laugh. She walked over and playfully slapped Gemini’s arm. "Hush, Jiayi. You were the one crying last night because you thought they’d never figure it out. Let them be."

Yunfei grinned, tightening his grip on Siyuan’s hand. The warmth in the room was a far cry from the freezing mountain rain.

The atmosphere in the arena was electric, the air thick with the scent of popcorn and the hum of thousands of fans. The lights were blindingly bright, shifting from the deep red of the Wolves to the electric blue of eStar Pro.

Backstage, in the dim hallway between the locker rooms where the cameras couldn't reach, two figures stood close together. Peng Yunfei adjusted the collar of his Wolves jersey, his expression stoic, the "Great General" persona fully back in place. But his hands weren't on his equipment; they were pulled around Siyuan’s waist.

Siyuan, looking healthy and sharp in his eStar jacket, leaned in and pressed a firm, lingering kiss to Yunfei’s lips. It was a silent exchange of strength before they stepped into the "war zone."

"I’m going to crush your jungle today," Yunfei whispered against his lips, his voice low and teasing.

"Try it," Siyuan smirked, his eyes burning with the competitive fire that made them legends. "But after the tournament is over—or even tonight—you’re coming to the apartment. I bought that coffee you like. The expensive kind."

"I’ll be there," Yunfei promised, stealing one last kiss before they heard the announcer's voice booming through the speakers.

They stepped out onto the stage from opposite sides. The roar of the crowd was deafening. As they met at center stage for the ceremonial handshake, the cameras zoomed in on their faces. Usually, their handshakes were professional, brisk, and cold. But today, as their palms met, there was an undeniable spark. Siyuan gave Yunfei’s hand a subtle, extra squeeze, and Yunfei’s lips quirked into a shadow of a smile that sent the live-chat into a frenzy.

“Did you see that? Fly smiled? At HuaHai?” “The Dream Team vibes are real. They look... different.”

However, the peace was short-lived. In the middle of the pre-match analysis, a notification flashed across the giant jumbotron and every mobile device in the arena. The ex-fiancé, desperate and losing his own social standing as the "villain," had started a live-stream of his own.

He appeared on screen, teary-eyed and disheveled. "I can't stay silent anymore," he sobbed to the camera. "Yunfei didn't get stood up. He drove me away. He was always 'close' with certain teammates. I have the logs of them staying in a cabin together while we were supposed to be on our honeymoon. He cheated first!"

A hush fell over the arena as thousands of people looked down at their phones. The "murder" that Siyuan had tried to prevent days ago was now happening in the digital space. The ex-fiancé was trying to burn the "Great General" to the ground in the middle of his comeback match.

Yunfei looked at the screen, then at Siyuan. Siyuan’s face went cold, that silent, dangerous "King of the Jungle" aura returning. But this time, Yunfei didn't look hurt. He looked at Siyuan and nodded. The draft post was still in his phone. The truth was ready.

The jumbotron flickered with the grainy, tearful image of the ex-fiancé, his voice echoing through the arena's high-end sound system. The crowd’s murmur grew into a dull roar of confusion and speculation. The Wolves' manager looked like he was about to faint, and the league officials were frantically gesturing for the cameras to cut to a commercial break.

But Peng Yunfei didn't wait for them to silence the room.

He didn't look at the screen. He didn't look at the fans. He looked directly at the camera focused on his face for the live broadcast, and then he reached out, snagging the microphone from the startled host’s hand.

Beside him, Luo Siyuan went perfectly still. His first instinct was to step in front of Yunfei to shield him, but he felt Yunfei’s hand drop to his side, catching Siyuan’s fingers for a brief, firm second. I’ve got this, the gesture said.

"I’ll save you the trouble of a 'leak'," Yunfei’s voice boomed, steady and cold, cutting through the chaos like a sharp blade.

The arena went deathly silent. Even the ex-fiancé’s stream seemed to stall as everyone tuned in to the "Great General."

"The 'cabin' my ex-fiancé is referring to," Yunfei continued, his eyes hard, "is where I went to recover after I was left at the altar because of a bet. A bet that was recorded, verified, and witnessed by people in this very room."

He pulled his phone from his pocket, hooking it into the digital feed—a move he had discussed with Gemini days ago 'just in case.' On the giant screens, the tearful face of the ex-fiancé was replaced by a screenshot of the original group chat: the bet, the money, and the cold, mocking laughter about Yunfei’s 'blind devotion.'

"I didn't cheat," Yunfei said, his voice dropping to a low, powerful frequency. "I was rescued. By a man who spent three days without sleep making sure I didn't lose my mind while the person I was supposed to marry was busy calculating his winnings."

Yunfei turned slightly, looking at Siyuan. The "King of the Jungle" was looking back, his eyes wide, his breath hitching.

"Luo Siyuan didn't ruin a marriage," Yunfei told the millions of people watching. "He ended a lie. And as for our relationship... if you think we moved 'too fast,' you haven't been paying attention for the last five years. He’s the only person who stayed when the lights went out. And from now on, he’s the only person I’m walking this path with."

The silence held for three long seconds. Then, the Wolves’ fan section erupted. It wasn't just a cheer; it was a war cry of support. The eStar fans joined in, the blue and red lights of the arena blurring together.

Siyuan finally found his voice. He didn't take the mic. He just stepped closer, his shoulder bumping Yunfei’s, his face breaking into a grin that was both relieved and fiercely proud. "You really are a dramatic General, aren't you?" he whispered.

"I learned from the best," Yunfei replied, clicking the mic off.

The ex-fiancé’s stream vanished, deleted in a panic as the public tide turned into a tsunami of backlash against him. The "villain" narrative was dead. The "rebound" scandal was dead. All that was left were two kings standing at center stage, finally free.

Gemini, standing in the wings, wiped a fake tear from his eye and turned to his wife. "See? I told you. Best PR move in history. Now, can we please just play some video games?"

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