16 Not Annoying

It wasn’t until the game ended that Lu Mi found out about this matter.

Shuimu had been holding back, not saying a word. Such matters between streamers were sensitive. Mi Lu would never do something like that, and since the other party didn’t directly mention Mi Lu’s name, Shuimu couldn’t speak out recklessly. If it had been about himself, he wouldn’t mind the insults, but anything involving Mi Lu was off-limits. If he said something casually, Mi Lu would surely become the subject of gossip and speculation.

So Shuimu resorted to speaking in riddles, making indirect comments—sometimes saying today’s green tea smelled nice, other times suggesting to order some tea.

Lu Mi couldn’t make heads or tails of it, his focus entirely on the game. He had to prevent Shuimu from faltering, shielding him from any harm. The difficulty level was higher than usual ranked matches.

After Shuimu’s subtle hints for a while, Lu Mi finally reminded him, “Drinking tea at night might cause insomnia.”

Shuimu: “...” He was indeed on the verge of insomnia now.

Then the barrage of comments started.

[Mi Lu only thinks about games, hahaha]

[How did I not realize Mi Lu is such a funny streamer before??]

[A Mo has a boyfriend??? Didn’t he always say he was single?]

[They never said it was A Mo, right? Just guessing?]

[Let’s see if the streamers will admit it.]

Lu Mi scrolled through the chat and realized he didn’t know that entertainment streamer at all. Softly, he said, “They must have mistaken someone else.”

It didn’t sound very convincing.

But he had never done anything like what the entertainment streamer accused him of.

He had never privately contacted A Mo, let alone tried to woo him or any professional player.

[Prove it if you can.]

[Anyway, ‘Three’ never admits to being ‘Three’.]

[Weren’t you clinging to A Mo just a few days ago?]

[True, none of you streamers even dare to turn on your cameras; A Mo wouldn’t fall for someone this ugly, right?]

“Are you guys out of your minds?” Shuimu snapped, finally unable to hold back his anger.

Lu Mi paused. “Shuimu, do you still want to play? We can queue for ranked matches.”

He himself wasn’t fazed.

Online attacks didn’t cause him any real harm.

However, Shuimu’s tone wasn’t good.

Lu Mi didn’t know how to make Shuimu care less about those words and could only try to divert his attention this way.

“Do you even feel like playing?” Lu Mi’s light tone drove Shuimu crazy.

He suspected Lu Mi must be the type to get bullied in real life, too.

“I want to climb the ranks today. If you don’t want to play, I’ll just queue solo.”

As Lu Mi was about to leave the team, Shuimu quickly said, “Let’s play!”

As usual, Lu Mi turned off the chat, and together they entered a regular ranked match duo queue.

The haters who had been spamming insults gradually quieted down when they saw Lu Mi completely ignoring them.

The entertainment streamer wasn’t very famous to begin with, and many of the haters weren’t even his fans—they were just onlookers hoping for some drama, but there was none to be had, so they withdrew for a while.

The chat gradually became peaceful.

Regular ranked matches were easier than honor rankings, and Shuimu’s mid-lane skills were top-tier among streamers. The two won consecutive games throughout the night.

That exciting feeling returned.

Lu Mi gripped his mouse tightly.

Playing games with Shuimu felt like a sweet treat, thrilling every time.

This was one reason Lu Mi disliked queuing with others.

He didn’t want to get addicted to this feeling or become reliant on anyone.

Glancing at the time, it was already past ten. Lu Mi released the mouse. “I’m logging off.”

“Have you become so old-fashioned with your schedule recently?” Shuimu remembered that Lu Mi used to stay up late to grind ranks and streaming hours, but recently he had been logging off earlier. Also, the computer seemed better—stream quality was much clearer.

Lu Mi hummed in acknowledgment, hesitating before adding, “Someone at home asked me to rest early.”

He immediately regretted saying that.

He had told Shuimu the marriage story was fake.

Shuimu was indeed stunned for a moment; he remembered Lu Mi lived alone. He only paused briefly and said, “You don’t find it annoying?”

“Not really,” Lu Mi said softly, then added after a moment, “...Not annoying.”

After speaking, he glanced at the online list.

User 9765439 was nowhere to be seen.

On the Yari streaming platform, the online list was ranked by user level. With the number of gifts Shen Tan had sent, he would usually be first.

[Oh no, Mi Lu’s tone really sounds like he’s married.]

[Playing it well.]

[Streamer, can you explain if you really hooked up with someone else’s boyfriend?]

Catching sight of that comment, Lu Mi pursed his lips. “You’ve got the wrong person. I’m logging off now. See you all tomorrow.”

Without waiting for Shuimu to say anything, he decisively ended the stream.

But he hadn’t exited the game yet. Shuimu was still streaming on his side and could tell Lu Mi didn’t want to engage with the issue, so he said a few words before leaving the team.

Before shutting down his computer, Lu Mi flipped through his private messages as usual.

The inbox was more lively than usual, with many messages insulting him.

But Lu Mi read them all.

He wasn’t particularly affected—as long as it didn’t interfere with his streaming or gaming, he was fine.

Lu Mi understood that even if he explained now, no one would listen.

People only believed what they wanted to believe.

In time, it would pass.

When Lu Mi went to sleep, Shen Tan hadn’t returned yet.

But Lu Mi’s sleep was restless, drifting between dreams and wakefulness.

In his dream, he stood helplessly in the Lu family’s living room, just after school. On the floor before him lay a broken vase.

The vase was expensive.

Lu Mi’s stepmother liked to decorate with such things, buying beautiful vases to adorn the living room. Even Lu Mi thought they were lovely.

But that costly vase was shattered before him.

Before Lu Mi could say anything, his stepmother entered the living room. His eldest stepbrother, who had been silently sitting on the sofa, immediately ran to her side to tattle, “Mom! Lu Mi broke the vase!”

Lu Mi looked at his stepbrother in confusion.

He didn’t understand. It was clearly the eldest stepbrother who broke it. Even if their mother found out, she wouldn’t scold the eldest—she doted on her two sons and couldn’t bear to scold them.

But Lu Mi was different.

She flew into a rage on the spot, telling Lu Mi to clean up the mess and compensate for the vase, refusing to listen to his explanation.

Explaining was useless.

Lu Mi could only clean the floor, listening to the harsh words from his stepmother, then retreat to his small room and curl up silently.

When he woke, he felt warm.

His eyes still closed, he sensed he was trapped somehow, his hands gripping something other than his blanket.

His mind instantly cleared, and Lu Mi opened his eyes.

Before him was a black silk pajama shirt, the buttons crooked and two undone, revealing a broad, muscular chest. His face was nearly buried against that chest.

The top button had fallen off, leaving a few threads dangling.

That fallen button was in his hand.

His other hand was clutching the owner’s arm.

That arm lay half on top of him, pinning him down.

Lu Mi dared not breathe, lifting his head slowly.

Shen Tan’s eyes were open, seemingly unsurprised that Lu Mi had woken now. “Awake?”

Lu Mi had no memory of Shen Tan’s return, and the dream faded rapidly upon waking. He shrank back, hastily trying to slip out of Shen Tan’s embrace.

Perhaps sensing his intent, or by chance, Shen Tan’s hand pressed against Lu Mi’s lower back, preventing him from retreating.

“You came in on your own. Looks like you don’t remember anything.”

Lu Mi instinctively gripped Shen Tan’s arm briefly, then let go. Now that they were so close, he didn’t know where to put his hand. The previous night he had woken alone, with no memory of sleeping together. Now, pressed so closely, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He dared not speak, only shaking his head in denial.

“Trying to get me to help you remember?” Shen Tan smiled softly, his palm pressing against Lu Mi’s lower back through the pajamas. His voice slow and deliberate, “I lay down, and you immediately grabbed my clothes, wanting to crawl into my arms. I thought you’d be bolder with the lights off.”

He wasn’t lying.

He had barely lain down when Lu Mi kept crawling into his arms, as if he were cold.

But the heater was on.

Lu Mi wasn’t cold.

Still, it had kept Shen Tan’s temper from cooling until now.

Lu Mi: “...”

His face flushed crimson. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall that moment. He couldn’t escape either, so he bent his head, trying to hide, shaking it slightly. “...Maybe I just don’t sleep well.”

He had no experience sleeping with others and didn’t know that he behaved like that in his sleep.

Shen Tan didn’t seem to like it.

Which was understandable.

Shen Tan worked late and Lu Mi disturbed him during his rest.

“Has anyone else told you that before?” Shen Tan’s tone was neutral.

Lu Mi shook his head. He felt a tickling from Shen Tan’s palm on his lower back but dared not move. Their legs nearly touched; any movement would press them even closer.

“How do you know it’s just your sleep habits and nothing else?” Shen Tan lowered his eyes.

Lu Mi’s pajamas were rumpled from rubbing.

Shen Tan’s palm pressed harder against his waist.

“Probably… no other reason.” If the “bolder with the lights off” was the reason, it was too embarrassing.

Lu Mi lowered his head further, almost burying it in the pillow.

“Then I guess I was wishful thinking. I thought at least it was because you knew it was me, or maybe because of a bad dream, wanting to seek my help.”

Lu Mi was stunned.

That wasn’t really a nightmare—just an ordinary, uneventful childhood, appearing at an inopportune time in his dreams.

Besides, he never sought help from others.

Including Shen Tan.

He lacked the ability to ask anyone for help.

Lu Mi rubbed his face against the pillow. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

“How careful?” Shen Tan watched Lu Mi’s profile, his lowered brows twitching—signs of fear and concealment.

“I could wait until you’re asleep before I rest.” Lu Mi couldn’t think of a better solution.

Or they could sleep separately.

But he was afraid saying that would upset Shen Tan.

After all, Shen Tan hadn’t thrown him off even though Lu Mi had woken him up tonight.

“Can you promise not to crawl into my arms after you fall asleep?” Shen Tan’s tone was calm.

Lu Mi couldn’t promise.

Shen Tan leisurely said, “But that’s a good plan. You wait for me to fall asleep before you sleep, then before you doze off, crawl into my arms. That way, you won’t have to crawl into me halfway through the night. What do you think?”

That sounded a bit too intimate.

But given their relationship, it wasn’t excessive.

Lu Mi had always been clear about his role beside Shen Tan.

He hesitated for a moment, about to nod, but Shen Tan seemed dissatisfied with the idea.

“That won’t do either. I’d rather you crawl into my arms while asleep—I’d feel like you’re inviting me.”

“...Inviting me?” Lu Mi whispered, puzzled.

He had a vague feeling it wasn’t a good thing but had already asked.

Suddenly, Shen Tan’s hand slipped beneath the pajama hem, palm fully pressing against skin.

Lu Mi’s waist was sensitive; he trembled slightly as his calf brushed against Shen Tan’s leg.

Shen Tan bent down, kissing his hair, whispering through his strands, “What do you think an invitation in bed means?”