"Um..." A gentle female voice sounded softly. "Your commentary is really amazing. Are you a commentator in training? Would you like to add me on WeChat? We could... play games together in the future."

It was the girl next to Yan Zhun, hitting on him.

Pei Ran silently shut his mouth and leaned back in his seat.

Yan Zhun said, "I can't."

The girl: "Ah? Why?"

"The person I like is here. It wouldn't be appropriate for him to see." Yan Zhun tossed out the sentence lightly.

Pei Ran: "..."

The girl: "...My apologies for bothering you."

In the third match, the camera switched to the main perspective of a player from another team. The commentators talked about him for nearly a full minute, all praises, calling him a rare all-around player and saying he was about to catch up to TZG's Lin Xuhuan.

The player lived up to the expectations, winning a one-versus-two fight with a sliver of health left, all under the commentators' eager gazes.

"Fast reactions," Yan Zhun commented faintly. "Not bad, but still a bit lacking compared to Lin Xuhuan."

Pei Ran hummed in agreement. "Not as good as you, either."

For once, Yan Zhun was taken aback. A few seconds later, he asked, "Am I better, or is Lin Xuhuan better?"

Pei Ran was focused on the match and said whatever came to mind: "You."

"Why?"

Pei Ran paused. "I don't know, I just feel... it's you."

Yan Zhun hummed, propping his hand on the armrest to cover his mouth, his eyes curving into a smile in the dim light.

The match ended. TZG's total score was temporarily second place.

Pei Ran, feeling like he hadn't had his fill, stood up with the others in the venue, preparing to leave.

He had only taken a few steps when he heard a gasp from nearby, and a girl shouted a name in surprise.

Pei Ran froze. He had heard that name before; it seemed to be a male celebrity.

Pei Ran didn't follow celebrity news. For him to know a name... they had to be pretty famous.

Take this one, for example. The moment he was spotted, a considerable commotion erupted in the venue. People from the back rows all squeezed this way, and even those who had already left turned back, the scene instantly spiraling out of control.

Pei Ran was pushed forward by the crowd. The girl behind him had actually started a live stream and was now screaming, "Ahhh!!! It's him! It's him! He came to watch the match, ahhh!!"

Pei Ran yelled "Excuse me" twice, but his voice was drowned out by the screams, which made his head buzz.

A hand reached out and grabbed him firmly amidst the crowd.

First, it grasped his wrist, then moved down to hold his hand. Feeling the other person's strength, Pei Ran instinctively squeezed back and looked up to find the owner of the hand—

It was Yan Zhun.

Yan Zhun led him away without looking back, so all Pei Ran could see was the back of his head.

Their joined hands suddenly began to feel hot. Pei Ran loosened his grip slightly, but Yan Zhun only held on tighter.

The screams in his ears were nearly drowned out by the sound of his own heartbeat.

They walked all the way to the ticket checkpoint at a side entrance. Blasted by the cold wind from outside, Pei Ran hurriedly tried to pull his hand back.

He didn't succeed.

But this movement made him realize something very embarrassing—his palm was sweating.

Pei Ran, who held a paintbrush for long periods, never had the habit of getting sweaty palms. But now, he had only been held for a few minutes.

"Yan Zhun," Pei Ran said, "...we're already outside."

"Mhm." Yan Zhun's gaze was on the ticket checkpoint desk.

Pei Ran was about to say more when he saw Yan Zhun raise an eyebrow and pull a tissue from a box on the desk.

Then he lowered his head, pinched Pei Ran's fingertips, and wiped his hand for him.

The place where their fingers touched and pressed seemed to catch fire, the heat spreading all the way to Pei Ran's ears, burning him so much that it took him a long while to remember to pull his hand back.

His phone rang. It was a call from his roommate. As if seeing his savior, Pei Ran quickly answered it.

"Hello." Pei Ran clutched his phone, his gaze darting elsewhere. "...You left something in the dorm? Is it urgent... You need it now? I got it, wait a bit, it's a twenty-minute ride back."

Just as he hung up, Yan Zhun had already raised his hand to hail a taxi.

"Let's go."

Back at the school, Yan Zhun was looking down, replying to Lin Xuhuan's message as he pushed open the dorm room door.

His roommate was sitting in his chair, arms crossed, staring motionlessly at his computer. On the screen was the Weibo interface and a notification that a video had finished playing. He didn't react to the sound of the door opening.

Yan Zhun took off his cap and placed it on the desk.

"Yan Zhun." Luo Qingshan broke the silence, asking, "What is your relationship with Pei Ran?"