When Cheng Ping heard Ma Koukou’s embellished speech, his first reaction wasn’t surprise or embarrassment, but panic. He had always assumed that Li Baixi was just naturally flirtatious with everyone, so he hadn’t taken it seriously. Now, realizing he was being given special attention, he became flustered.

Li Baixi noticed Cheng Ping’s sudden stiffness and felt a jolt of worry: could the great Cheng Ping be homophobic?

He promptly flicked Ma Koukou on the forehead, “You’re being too dramatic.”

Knowing that anything he said now would only make things worse, Li Baixi decided on a tactical retreat, hoping Cheng Ping wouldn’t take it too seriously and could laugh it off.

Cheng Ping took it seriously.

He was afraid of receiving affection because he knew all too well the pain of having his heartfelt feelings crushed. Standing there like a statue, he watched Li Baixi retreat, feeling that if he made one wrong move, another person might end up heartbroken.

In the following meetings, Li Baixi noticed that Cheng Ping seemed to speak and act naturally around him, not avoiding him, which gave him a sense of relief.

Unexpectedly, after a magazine shoot, Cheng Ping casually suggested, “It’s around dinner time. How about we grab a bite together?”

Li Baixi jumped up, “Sure, I’ll just grab a few things and be right back.”

Li Baixi tiptoed out the door before sprinting to the parking lot.

He went home to fetch that hat, thinking that if he didn’t get it signed today, he would just braise it and eat it.

Cheng Ping called it a casual meal, but he reserved a private room, and it was just the two of them sitting across from each other.

He had prepared a long speech, planning to gently and gracefully reject Li Baixi’s advances without hurting him.

They exchanged pleasantries and ate without much appetite, both taking a deep breath halfway through.

Cheng Ping suddenly looked up, “Um—”

He paused.

A familiar hat had appeared in front of him.

Li Baixi, suppressing his excitement, nonchalantly said, “Hey, could you sign this for me?”

Finally, he said it! What a relief!

Li Baixi was so focused on his relief that he didn’t notice Cheng Ping’s complex expression.

Cheng Ping reached out and gently touched the team logo on the hat, “This model has been out of print for years, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, I just found it while cleaning my closet recently,” Li Baixi said, trying to hide his fanboy enthusiasm.

Cheng Ping picked up the hat and examined it, “You used to watch esports?”

This question seemed to press a switch.

Li Baixi finally got to fulfill his wish of “praising his idol to his idol.”

Even better, after listening for a while, Cheng Ping’s expression softened, and he seemed to recognize Li Baixi as a genuine fan, starting to explain match details to him.

Li Baixi felt like he was floating on air.

They both enjoyed the meal, talking excitedly.

After finishing, Cheng Ping became quiet for a while and then laughed softly, “It’s been six months, right? You’re the first person to talk to me about this.”

Li Baixi was astonished, “The first? How is that possible?”

“Everyone around me pretends I don’t have this past.” Cheng Ping shrugged, “If my manager catches me watching a match, he gets mad. They all want me to move on and never look back.”

Li Baixi was taken aback.

Li Baixi was a smart person and gleaned some insights from Cheng Ping’s words.

Although he didn’t know all the details, it was clear that Cheng Ping’s retirement had deeply affected him. Everyone around Cheng Ping was eager for him to “move on,” but no one had properly helped him process his feelings—they might have offered general comfort, but they didn’t truly understand.

As a result, Cheng Ping was trapped in his anger and sorrow.

When the team lost, he blamed himself for leaving. When they won, he felt his place had been filled.

Moreover, his teammates had never mentioned him, not even to acknowledge his contributions over the years. That was truly inhumane.

Li Baixi felt that Cheng Ping couldn’t continue like this.

If no one else was helping Cheng Ping, then he would.

When he got home, he sent Cheng Ping a message: “By the way, isn’t your former team’s match in a couple of days? I think it’s the last game of the season?”

“Yeah,” Cheng Ping replied.

“I bought tickets. Want to go watch together?”

“?”

“You’ll be watching it on your phone anyway. Why not go in person and say goodbye to the past?”

Cheng Ping was shocked, “Me? In the audience? Do you think I’ve already become unrecognizable in just six months?”

Li Baixi sent a smiling emoji, “Hey kid, ever heard of disguises?”

On the day of the match, Li Baixi took Cheng Ping to his studio and worked his magic.

He braided the hair at Cheng Ping’s temples and tied it back, then covered it with a wig. The braids lifted his brow and changed the shape of his eyes. Using a nose prosthesis, he raised Cheng Ping’s nose, and added fake eyebrows and a mustache with alcohol adhesive.

“Unrecognizable, right?” Li Baixi pointed at the mirror.

Cheng Ping, impressed, asked, “Are you coming with me?”

“Of course.”

“Aren’t you going to disguise yourself?” Given Li Baixi’s striking appearance, walking beside him would still draw attention despite his own disguise.

“I only need five minutes,” Li Baixi said, heading to the bathroom.

Five minutes later.

“How do I look?” Li Baixi asked.

Cheng Ping stared in shock.

All Li Baixi did was remove his makeup, put on a short wig, and change into a jacket.

“What’s that look for? I don’t look that bad, do I?” Li Baixi was quite confident in his appearance.

“No… I just haven’t seen you without makeup,” Cheng Ping hastily looked away.

Li Baixi glanced at himself in the mirror and said flatly, “Wow, still so handsome even bare-faced.”

Cheng Ping: “…”

Li Baixi, finding the fun in acting, continued, “I’m so impressed with myself.”

Cheng Ping, irritated, said, “Can you stop ruining the moment by talking?”