TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 98

Handing the phone to Xia Tong in the first place had been a mistake.

Lin Mingfei, feeling exasperated, took the phone back from Xia Tong and endured the storm of yelling from the screaming “mom” He Youjin.

“Do you even understand the situation?! This is a critical time right now! In less than half a month the official match starts! What the hell are you thinking?! Bringing Xia Xiaotong to a prenatal check on match day?! Do you have any responsibility? Any professionalism?! I misjudged you, Lin Mingfei!”

Lin Mingfei: “…I just kissed him, how could you think so far ahead—”

“You dare say that besides ‘kissing’ you weren’t thinking about anything else?!” He Youjin pressed. “Do you think I don’t know anything about pheromones or basic sexual biology?! Back in school, I got full marks in physiology!!”

Lin Mingfei: “…”

He raised his hand, trembling, propping his forehead with his palm for a long moment, then realized something was off and cautiously asked: “Are you on speaker, He Youjin? Why can I hear Fang Haoyang’s voice so clearly?”

“Yes, on speaker. What about it?” He Youjin replied shamelessly. “I just want to expose the ugly actions of your alpha so there’s a warning effect—and—hiss!”

“In comparison, am I not way more reliable?” Fang Haoyang interjected, half-teasing, half-serious, his breath heavy.

Lin Mingfei: “…?”

The phone call suddenly changed. Mumbled low voices mixed with messy breathing made He Youjin’s words unclear. Lin Mingfei shivered in shock. “He Youjin, are you holding the phone with your hands?”

“Do I need to ask? Youjin’s busy,” Fang Haoyang answered in his place, sounding ridiculously pleased. “Today’s just to teach you a lesson and remind you to be careful. AO living under the same roof easily leads to slip-ups. Don’t give anyone ammo for gossip. Losing fans is one thing, but personal reputation and image is critical. When it happens, you’ll cry and not even know where to cry.”

Lin Mingfei: “…”

The two of them taking turns lecturing him at the wrong time left him speechless. He wasn’t an idiot—of course he knew what that pair of double-standard idiots were doing on the other end. Just imagining them in a warm, intimate night while he was stuck in a bitterly cold prison made his blood boil.

“Fang Haoyang,” he ground out, word by word.

“Hmm?” Fang Haoyang replied lazily.

“You’re seriously the worst alpha I’ve ever met in my life.”

“?????”

Lin Mingfei growled: “I hope you always get phone calls at the most inconvenient moments. Done!”

Leaving that as perhaps the most vicious curse in a man’s life history, Lin Mingfei angrily hung up, bent his knees, and slumped onto the sofa, burying his head in his arms.

Although frustrated, he knew He Youjin was right: he shouldn’t be having any special relationship with Xia Tong right now.

The alpha-omega relationship is the most sensitive, strictly regulated by law, primarily because the omega is the weaker party. Controlled by pheromones and suppression, once a relationship occurs, the alpha can walk away freely, but the omega remains bound and potentially hurt—especially if a pregnancy happens…

Even an ordinary AO relationship demands caution. On top of that, they had another critical mission. Right now, nothing was more important than preparing for the match. How could he distract himself with these matters?

Lin Mingfei exhaled deeply, scolding himself repeatedly in his mind.

At that moment, someone lightly tugged at the corner of his clothes.

Lin Mingfei looked up and met Xia Tong’s worried gaze.

“Did we make a huge mistake?” the little omega shivered, asking, “Did Manager He scold you…?”

Lin Mingfei swallowed hard.

At a time like this, even the slightest action from the little omega—a glance, a movement—felt like it was dancing on his heart, stirring him into a daze. This was the power of pheromones.

He still wanted it…

No. He couldn’t continue like this. He had to stop this damn passive heat. Lin Mingfei gritted his teeth, braced himself on his knees, and stood up from the sofa.

“Do you want milk tea?” he asked, his stiffest tone ever, trying to change the subject. “I just saw a popular milk tea shop.”

“Are you ordering delivery…?” Xia Tong, confused by his sudden topic shift, blinked in bewilderment.

“They don’t deliver,” Lin Mingfei said, keeping a serious face. “I’ll go get it for you.”

Xia Tong didn’t overthink it, simply letting out a small “oh,” obedient and compliant: “Then show me the menu…”

“Mm.”

He scrolled casually on his phone and pulled up the menu from a milk tea shop he’d passed by often before, something he had snapped a photo of on a whim.

Ah, right. That time had been after a poor performance in the group stage. Their team of five had to go to the elimination match, and that damn chubby Zhou Yanjun had cried his eyes out the moment he got off the van. People on the whole street were watching them—it was super embarrassing. Lin Mingfei had gone to that milk tea shop on a whim to take a menu photo, just to order for Zhou Yanjun and let him eat his fill to relieve stress.

Indeed, for a team, nothing was more depressing than failing to perform in a critical match. So he couldn’t let these bad experiences happen again for his teammates. He had to stay restrained, focused, and undistracted.

“Mm… then I’ll get the taro boba soy milk tea!” Xia Tong decided after looking at the menu.

“Okay, hot or cold? Sweetness level?” Lin Mingfei asked.

“Hot! And… full sugar!” Xia Tong replied.

“Full sugar?” Lin Mingfei paused.

In this era of milk tea and sweets, young people were struggling with stress and weight gain. Ordering milk tea without sugar had become a rare act of rebellion; full sugar was unusual.

“Is there a problem?” Xia Tong tilted his head, puzzled.

“No… just… aren’t you afraid of getting fat?” Lin Mingfei hesitated to ask.

After asking, he realized it was a pointless question. This little omega was skinny and light, as delicate as a leaf. Even a paladin’s roar in the arena could blow him over; held in his arms, there was barely any substance—hardly a problem at all.

Considering future hand-feel, Lin Mingfei immediately answered his own question: “You’re better off being a little chubbier. Forget I asked.”

Xia Tong blinked but still seriously answered: “Sweet things taste good.”

Lin Mingfei: “But people say full sugar is too sweet.”

“Too sweet? I don’t think so.” Xia Tong said. He deftly pulled out a roll of imported milk chocolate from the drawer that Zhou Yanjun had stashed away, showing off: “I can eat two of these in a row! No water!”

Lin Mingfei: “…”

He still remembered Zhou Yanjun’s expression when he painstakingly bought that chocolate from an overseas site and took his first bite—a perfect description in four words: Pain Mask.

“Finally I know why foreigners get fat,” Zhou Yanjun had shouted hoarsely after gulping down two cups of water. “My throat is gone from the sugar!”

Recalling this, Lin Mingfei looked back at Xia Tong. The little omega, perhaps worried he wouldn’t believe him, broke off a piece of chocolate and popped it into his mouth. “Chomp chomp,” swallowed, then grabbed another piece, looking more excited as he ate. Xia Tong didn’t seem bothered, but Lin Mingfei started getting a toothache just watching and hurriedly stopped him: “Okay, stop eating. There’s only this much of Zhou Yanjun’s stash, and once you finish it today, there’ll be no more.”

“You’re right.” Xia Tong nodded seriously, carefully folded the chocolate wrapper, and put it back in the drawer.

“Alright, then. I’m going out to buy it. Stay in the base, don’t run around, and don’t mess with the kitchen appliances.” Lin Mingfei grabbed his coat from the hanger, slipped it on, and hurried to the door while reminding him.

“I know! Go quickly and come back quickly, I’ll wait for you!” Xia Tong waved at him, smiling brightly.

That smile was lethal—Lin Mingfei’s heart skipped a beat. As he left, he even stumbled a little, looking flustered as he dashed out.

Shi Ya had initially held some expectations for his night out, so He Youjin and Fang Haoyang had left him at the bustling pedestrian street downtown. But after flipping through his contacts, he couldn’t even manage to set up a single appointment—not even with an omega, let alone a drinking buddy alpha.

On such a brief and enchanting night, everyone would already have plans. Who would care about a temporarily free “empty-nest old alpha”? Shi Shaoye felt defeated, enduring the cold wind on the streets, realizing he had been abandoned by the social circle. No longer the social butterfly admired by everyone, he had no choice but to retreat home—a last resort.

Born into a moderately wealthy family as the youngest, Shi Ya had two high-achieving older brothers—one in politics, one in medicine—so his parents didn’t care much whether he succeeded. He had grown up handsome, always attracting attention in nightlife, living among lights, wine, and wealth. His parents assumed he would be a lifelong freeloader, never expecting that when he stumbled into gaming, his talent would push him into the professional scene. Financially self-sufficient, he became a surprising pride for his parents.

Shi Ya had been away for so many years that no one seemed to ask about him anymore. He often wondered if he had already been struck from the family register. He had no idea what kind of situation he would face after returning home. He struggled with himself several times—he even considered turning around and going back to the base—but that didn’t feel right either. Going back looking so defeated would make him seem like a stray dog, which didn’t match the image of the charming, popular man he was supposed to be.

So in the end, Shi Ya forced himself to go home.

Unexpectedly, when he arrived, there was no barrage of scolding waiting for him, nor any tearful family-reunion scene. In fact, no one seemed to be home. The living room was dim, and the only sound was the faint noise of a television leaking through a door upstairs.

Just as Shi Ya stood there at a loss, a short while later Mrs. Shi—who had already been lying in bed preparing to sleep—put on her robe, got out of bed, and came downstairs to greet him.

Mother and son exchanged few words. Mrs. Shi went into the kitchen and personally made him a bowl of scallion noodles. Then she stood beside him with reddened eyes, watching as he slowly finished every bite.

“Your dad didn’t know you were coming back,” Mrs. Shi said softly after a while. “If he had known, he would have switched shifts… And your older brother and second brother…”

“They didn’t come back either?” Shi Ya’s throat felt strangely dry as he asked vaguely.

“Mm, they’re all busy. And you’re busy too—I know that,” Mrs. Shi said, shaking her head. “Give me the bowl. I’ll wash it. You go take care of your own things.”

Shi Ya lowered his head and quickly drank the rest of the noodle soup as well. In a low voice he said, “I’m not busy. I’ll stay at home tonight. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good, good!” Mrs. Shi’s eyes lit up, her hands trembling with excitement. “Then I’ll go—go get a quilt for you right now. Wait here.”

Watching his mother’s back as she hurried away, so excited she could barely contain herself, Shi Ya felt an unfamiliar ache in his heart. He hadn’t expected that such a small, casual decision from him would make his mother so happy. After all these years, perhaps he really should grow up a little more.

Shi Ya curled up obediently on the sofa and decided he would also ask He Youjin and Lin Mingfei for a day off tomorrow so he could stay home and spend some proper time with his mom.

After tidying up the room, Shi Ya deliberately stayed with Mrs. Shi and chatted for a while. He realized that since he hadn’t come home in so long, no matter what topic he brought up, she seemed extremely interested. The two of them chatted lively all the way until almost midnight.

“I used to think kids like you who play video games were all no-good troublemakers,” Mrs. Shi said with a smile. “But now it seems you’re all heroic youngsters in everyone’s eyes.”

“My teammates are all really good people,” Shi Ya said with a grin. “One day I’ll bring them home so you can meet them.”

“Oh right, speaking of your teammates.” Mrs. Shi suddenly seemed to remember something. She slapped her forehead and stood up. “One of your teammates called the house today asking for your phone number. I told him you have too many phones and I don’t know which one you actually use, so I wrote down his number instead. I told him you’d call him back when you had time. Though honestly, I didn’t even know when you’d come home—haha, I agreed like it was for real.”

Shi Ya was completely baffled by this description.

“My teammate? Are you sure it was my teammate?” he said. “My teammates all have my regular phone number.”

“Well, if he wasn’t your teammate, how would he know our landline?” Mrs. Shi laughed. “You didn’t even give this number to any of those people you dated.”

Shi Ya spaced out for a moment. Vaguely, he remembered something from years ago. Back then, Polaris had just been formed. They were all stubborn teenagers who refused to back down to each other. Their matches were rough and unimpressive, with no achievements to speak of. Naturally, no one paid attention to a team with no record. They had no sponsors, no money, and certainly no luxurious villa to use as a base.

So that day, even though Shi Ya had been arguing fiercely with Lin Mingfei, he still generously cleared out his family’s big house and let his four teammates stay there for a while. He even moved the five of their “pods” up to the attic on the top floor and turned it into a free training room.

And it was during that period that each of his teammates had gotten his family’s landline number.

But that was only for that brief time. Later, Polaris seemed to take off as if they had activated cheat codes—thriving and winning match after match. Soon they had a proper training base, and everyone had their own mobile phones. Shi Ya had assumed the landline number had long been forgotten. After all, calling a landline was practically an ancient form of communication these days.

So who on earth would bother calling their home landline now? Zhou Yanjun? Pulling some prank in the middle of the night?

Mrs. Shi had carefully copied the number into a little notebook and handed it to Shi Ya. He hadn’t intended to take it seriously, but after glancing at it, he realized it wasn’t Zhou Yanjun’s number. He frowned, feeling that the matter might not be so simple.

“Got it. I’ll call him back in a bit,” he told his mother. “Go back to your room and get some sleep.”

After Mrs. Shi left, Shi Ya dialed the number.

The busy tone on the other end rang only briefly before the call connected. A voice sounded—somewhat unfamiliar, yet one that should have been familiar.

“Brother Shi, you finally decided to call me back.”

It was like someone had suddenly splashed a bucket of filth on him. Shi Ya froze for a moment. Then the corner of his lips slowly curved downward, and the brief confusion on his face gradually turned into a look of contemptuous mockery.

“Ping Shuai…” he sneered meaningfully, speaking in a slow, deliberate tone. “If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have made this call.”

—

On the other end of the phone, Ping Shuai was choked by Shi Ya’s blunt response and instantly felt too embarrassed to speak.

Shi Ya had assumed he would simply hang up. But Ping Shuai didn’t. After about five or six seconds of silence, he spoke again in a low voice.

“Brother Shi… are you still angry about me not returning to the team?”

That question hit Shi Ya’s funny bone immediately.

“Angry? You think too highly of yourself.” Young Master Shi let out a mocking chuckle and said casually, “Who do you think you are? Why would I, Shi Ya, bother getting angry over someone like you?”

“…Brother Shi.” Even after being mocked like that, Ping Shuai’s attitude remained extremely humble. There was not a trace of defiance or anger in him—he simply spoke meekly. “I know I was wrong. I was blinded by money and forgot the original ideals of our Polaris. Back then I shouldn’t have been so stubborn, shouldn’t have fought with you and the captain, and I definitely shouldn’t have said those things about Zhou Yanjun and Bo Yu… I regret it now. I regret it terribly.”

Shi Ya didn’t respond. His gaze drifted slightly, and the tight furrow in his brows loosened a little. Late at night, people’s emotions were always unstable. Ping Shuai’s words inevitably stirred up memories of the old days when the team had fought side by side.

“Brother Shi, I wanted to apologize to you, but I didn’t have your contact number, so I could only call your home like this. I’m sorry, Brother Shi—I must have disturbed you and Auntie… I just really miss all of you…” Ping Shuai murmured, and Shi Ya could even hear a hint of tears in his voice.

“Alright then.” Shi Ya lowered his eyes calmly. “I’ve received your apology. I forgive you.”

“Brother Shi!” Ping Shuai’s voice suddenly rose, sounding extremely excited. “So… so does that mean I still have a chance to return to Polaris?! I really miss everyone! I want to fight alongside you all again and return to our former glory!”

“Huh?” Shi Ya drawled lazily. “But aren’t you with Sabertooth right now? Your signing fee is so high—we can’t afford to buy you back from them. You know we’re a declining team now. We can barely even afford food—”

“No, no, you don’t need to buy me out!” Ping Shuai said urgently. “As long as you’re willing to accept me again, I’ll terminate my contract with Sabertooth immediately! I don’t want their money anymore! I just want you guys! My teammates!”

“Ah… I see.” Shi Ya sounded very surprised, then continued slowly, “In that case, I suggest you ask Zero for his opinion first. It’s not really appropriate to ask me about this. After all, I’m just an insignificant little support on the team with no name and no status, right?”

Ping Shuai hesitated and said, “Brother Shi, don’t say that. You’re still very important in the team… I’ve always respected you. But I don’t really dare bring this up to Zero. The captain can’t tolerate even a grain of sand in his eyes—you know his temper—”

“Ah… that may be true, but he’s still the captain of our Polaris.” Shi Ya’s expression looked almost amused, though his tone sounded troubled. “When it comes to roster changes like this, of course he has the final say. If he agrees to let you come back, then come back. As for me… well, I don’t really want you back.”

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