FIG CHAPTER 5

“You really hate Tan Qing that much?”

More than once, while arranging schedules, Ah-Xu couldn’t help but sigh and ask this question, because Zhu Lianzhen’s requests were truly troublesome.

“Fans can easily find out when you change flights. You’re always deliberately avoiding Tan Qing’s schedule. Even a fool can see that you two don’t get along. You’re still teammates, at least on the surface. Running into each other occasionally without speaking shouldn’t be a big deal, right?” Ah-Xu tried to persuade him.

Zhu Lianzhen’s usual explanations were along the lines of: “Just looking at him annoys me,” “Might as well use this chance to completely end our CP,” or “I don’t want to make things difficult for myself.” These excuses successfully fooled the assistant, who at the time wasn’t aware of the full story.

Sometimes, to make his reasoning feel more convincing, Zhu Lianzhen would even mentally list Tan Qing’s flaws, reinforcing his sense of dislike.

And before he realized it, “hating Tan Qing” had become a fact.

That is, until the person himself asked the same question. His mind went blank for a moment, and his first instinct was to deny it.

Unfortunately, what he wanted even more was to run away. Between “giving an answer” and “changing the subject,” he chose a third option—the worst one: pretending not to hear.

He shut the car door and walked off, leaving behind only one thought in his mind: The whole world could believe he hated Tan Qing. Only Tan Qing himself couldn’t.

–

“Tomorrow’s rehearsal is at four in the afternoon. The official recording starts at six. Your flight is booked for 1 PM, so the latest you should wake up is ten,” Ah-Xu informed him of the next day’s schedule.

Zhu Lianzhen calculated the timing. “That’s cutting it too close. Can’t we book an earlier flight?”

Ah-Xu explained, “There is one, but Tan Qing is also recording another show at the same venue tomorrow. His flight’s at ten.”

Zhu Lianzhen paused for a few seconds. “It’s fine. Change mine to ten as well.”

The next day, bundled up tightly, Zhu Lianzhen headed to the airport. As usual, the VIP lounge was packed with fansite photographers holding cameras. He was familiar with them by now, knowing they often waited hours in advance. So, he took off his sunglasses and scarf, revealing his face to make it easier for them to take photos.

Before long, a tall man walked into the lounge. Zhu Lianzhen accidentally met his eyes for a brief moment.

Nearby fans started whispering.

Zhu Lianzhen lowered his head and scrolled through his phone absentmindedly. He assumed that, with fans around, Tan Qing would follow Pei Qiao’s instructions and come over to do some fake fanservice. But Tan Qing didn’t hesitate at all—he walked straight to the sofa in the farthest corner and completely ignored him.

The fan photographers didn’t even have time to edit their photos before uploading previews. One of them also ran the QingZhen CP fan account “KissTruth3214.” As soon as the post went up on Weibo, the comment count exploded within thirty seconds. Scrolling down revealed nothing but a flood of “AHHHHH!”

[Holy shit, am I seeing this right… They’re actually at the airport together?!]

[It’s not a dream! I knew something was up when they suddenly followed each other again! They’re finally back together 555555]

[Wait, they’re not even sitting together… backgrounds don’t match. Looks like they’re keeping their distance.]

[OMG ZLZ looks so soft without makeup. My baby is effortlessly cute and cool.]

[Who cares if they’re not in the same frame! They’ve spent two whole years avoiding each other, and now they’re on the same flight. That’s progress! Just keep shipping, no need to overthink it!]

[Sharing a flight is basically the same as getting married. I’m already picking out baby names.]

…

Zhu Lianzhen put his sunglasses and mask back on, glancing through the brown-tinted lenses toward the distance. Tan Qing had his head down, seemingly resting with his eyes closed.

After boarding, they continued to ignore each other. The first-class cabin offered a lot of privacy, and only their assistants were quietly chatting in the back to pass the time.

Zhu Lianzhen overheard Tan Qing’s assistant muttering complaints about their packed schedule—he could barely catch his breath and was worried he might end up with an occupational injury.

For the past two years, Zhu Lianzhen had paid no attention to Tan Qing’s updates. Still, he’d once seen Tan Qing’s yearly schedule trending on Weibo. It had been insane—crossing two or three cities in a single day was normal, and most of his sleep seemed to happen on planes or in cars. Yet somehow, his face never showed even a hint of fatigue. He was practically the king of time management.

To Zhu Lianzhen, Tan Qing’s work schedule was bizarre. There was hardly any space for a personal life. He’d always known Tan Qing took his job seriously, but it was nothing like this. 365 days, no breaks.

Was he short on money? In debt? Had he offended someone high up? Zhu Lianzhen found himself spinning all sorts of theories about Tan Qing being mistreated. While feeling puzzled, he also couldn’t help but wonder about Tan Qing’s health.

After the plane landed, Ah-Xu told Zhu Lianzhen that the CP fans were going wild again, just because the two of them had taken the same flight.

[So what actually happened between them? I thought they were done for good. They didn’t even post fake birthday wishes for each other on Weibo.]

[Let’s be real. If two guys go out of their way to avoid each other this hard, it’s either someone’s got major attitude problems… or they really did hook up.]

[No mystery here. They fell out because one of them backed a teammate who clashed with management, and they ended up on opposite sides.]

[Them sitting far apart in the lounge isn’t a big deal. There were fans around, no need to interact. Bet they talked on the plane.]

Too bad the fan theories were way off. The two hadn’t acknowledged each other once. Zhu Lianzhen lost interest in the comment section, opened WeChat, and tapped on Tan Qing’s profile picture.

Then he discovered he could no longer see his teammate’s Moments.

Zhu Lianzhen was at a loss for words. To be fair, Tan Qing’s Moments weren’t anything worth looking at—just work promotions. He’d post a single photo of himself at home once every few months, and even then, he wouldn’t show his face.

Every time Zhu Lianzhen scrolled past, he’d grumble to himself, Who wants to see your work stuff? Post something interesting.

Well, now that problem was solved. Tan Qing had finally remembered to block him, saving him the trouble of complaining altogether.

That day, Pei Qiao informed them that Acemon’s comeback plans were nearly finalized.

His phone buzzed with nonstop notifications. Zhu Lianzhen glanced at WeChat and saw that a new group chat had appeared, named “A Warm Welcome to the Legendary Koty’s Return to His Beloved Second Home.”

There were only five members, and as if the name wasn’t flashy enough, the group owner had even added two glittering star emojis. A message popped up—a voice note from Koty: “Here comes the surprise! Did you miss me?”[mfn]“Here comes the surprise” was in English.[/mfn]

The overly enthusiastic voice drilled through Zhu Lianzhen’s temples from left to right. He sucked in a breath and immediately muted the group.

The person he wanted to avoid wasn’t just anyone—it was none other than the group’s rapper.

This guy had an aura of greatness: a graduate of the Berlin University of the Arts, striking features from his Chinese-German heritage, and an exceptional talent for rap. But his reputation wasn’t great—rumors of his messy personal life never stopped. To the outside world, he was known as a sleazy player, but to the members of Acemon, Koty had a far simpler and universally accepted nickname—dumbass.

And now, this dumbass had crossed oceans and was relentlessly spamming the other four members in the chat:

“I’m at Terminal 3. Why aren’t you guys here to pick me up?”

“Oh… so many people here… I’m way too popular.”

“Fu Rong, are you here? Fu Rong, are you reading this?”

Before long, the number of members in the group dropped from “5” to “4.”

Koty: “Fu Rong, no matter how many times you leave, I’ll always be the first to add you whenever a new group is made.”

Koty: “Please screenshot this sentence and send it to him. Make sure to use a beauty filter.”

Zhu Lianzhen didn’t want to deal with him either, so he decisively left the group.

Koty: “Why are there only three people left now?”

Koty: “I found this super fun photo app! It makes your eyes look like Disney characters!”

He eagerly sent a freshly edited selfie.

Ji Yunting was horrified. “Don’t post cursed pics!”

Soon, only two people remained in the group.

“Kissy.”[mfn]Kissy” (小吻 xiǎo wěn, lit. Little Kiss) is Tan Qing’s nickname. The reason behind it will come up later in the story.

I chose to translate it instead of keeping it as “Xiao Wen” or “Little Kiss”. If you feel strongly about it, feel free to share in the comments.[/mfn] Koty, deeply moved, tagged Tan Qing: “You’re the best. At least you’re not rejecting me.”

Tan Qing didn’t respond at first. Hours later, he finally replied: “Sorry, just saw this. You’re back in China? Get some rest.”

Then he sent another message: “Is this a bug? Why did my private chat turn into a group chat?”

And with that, he promptly left.

Koty was on the verge of tears. Now, the only one left in the group was himself.

The day after Koty returned to China, Pei Qiao notified the members to come to the company for a meeting to discuss the group’s activity plans for the year.

There were only a few empty seats left in the meeting room. Zhu Lianzhen pulled out a chair and sat down—right across from him was Tan Qing. He glanced at the person beside him and was immediately met with another headache.

Fu Rong sat with his arms crossed, a thick medical mask covering most of his fair face, leaving only a pair of indifferent, beautifully shaped eyes visible.

Their eyes met unintentionally. Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t help but ask, “Why are you wearing a mask indoors? You got a cold?”

Fu Rong withdrew his gaze and replied coolly, “I need to filter the air when sharing a room with you people.”

Zhu Lianzhen: “Then stop breathing.”

“Are you guys elementary school kids? Bickering the second you meet?” Pei Qiao, who was busy at the printer, shot them a glare.

She distributed a thick stack of documents—Acemon’s latest business plans, spanning over ten pages. As Zhu Lianzhen skimmed through them, he realized much of it didn’t seem like a last-minute proposal. It was clear the company had been planning the group’s comeback long before this meeting.

As everyone quietly read through the plans, noise came from the entrance.

The door swung open, and before anyone could react, Koty burst in, loud as ever. “Yo, digga!”[mfn]After some research, I found that “digga” is a German slang term equivalent to “bro” or “dude” in English. It comes from “dicker” (meaning fat/big guy), and it’s used casually between friends.[/mfn]

His high nose bridge and deep-set eyes emphasized his mixed-race features, and the two silver piercings on his brow bone gave him an even more carefree look. His gaze swept the room before locking onto a specific person with unerring accuracy.

Fu Rong seemed to sense the stare. Without a word, he stood, intending to move to the farthest seat.

Koty, however, completely misread the situation and assumed Fu Rong was standing to welcome him. Seizing the moment, he strode forward, threw an arm around Fu Rong’s shoulders, and said sincerely, “Thanks, I missed you too.”

Zhu Lianzhen, the closest person to them, felt chills on his behalf. He instinctively scooted his chair back, fearing that if Fu Rong decided to pull a knife, he’d end up caught in the splash zone.

And sure enough, a second later, Koty took a solid punch. His handsome features twisted in pain as he doubled over, clutching his abdomen. The moment his mouth opened, Fu Rong’s cold voice came from above. “Don’t make a sound.”

Koty clenched his teeth and held it in.

Fu Rong’s eyes remained devoid of warmth. He adjusted his mask and headed to a seat in the corner.

Zhu Lianzhen glanced at the floor and thought wryly: It was a good thing Fu Rong only punched him. If he’d brought a knife, the group might’ve been one man short by now.

After two years, the members of Acemon were finally gathered together once more.

Pei Qiao said, “If we want to appear on all the music shows, there won’t be enough time to produce a full album. We could rush out an EP using some of the old recordings, and based on a three-month promotional period, the group’s schedule would be packed until the end of June.”

This was all within Zhu Lianzhen’s expectations, but the issue he cared about most had yet to be mentioned.

“The scheduling and the style of the new songs can be discussed later. Right now, the most important thing is to set a clear goal.” Pei Qiao tapped her nails against the table from time to time, making sure they stayed focused. “One thing that concerns me is whether you can even work together properly in your current state.”

It had been two years since their last group activity. Apart from Zhu Lianzhen, the other members had gradually distanced themselves from the idol industry, shifting toward other areas of entertainment. Their singing and dancing skills had undoubtedly declined compared to before. Acemon had always relied on top-tier live performances to maintain their fan loyalty—if their comeback fell short, they would only lose more of their fanbase.

After a moment of contemplation, Pei Qiao looked up again and raised her voice slightly. “Even if you can’t, you’d better force yourselves to. Otherwise, there won’t be a concert this year.”

Zhu Lianzhen’s eyes lit up—that was what he cared about most.

Back when they debuted, Acemon had gained international fame with their unique style. Although technically an idol group, their image was more akin to that of a rock band, taking a rebellious and flamboyant path. With striking visuals and real talent, their performances always left a strong impression. If they didn’t get another chance to hold a concert, even casual listeners would feel the loss.

The producer and choreographer for the new EP were also present, and most of the remaining time was spent discussing the musical direction of the new songs. By the time night fell, everyone was starving, and Pei Qiao, parched from all the talking, finally announced the meeting’s end.

Even after getting turned down by Fu Rong, Koty quickly bounced back and excitedly invited the members to a nightclub for drinks.

Just to be safe, they informed their manager. Pei Qiao repeatedly warned them, “Don’t drink too much. Especially you, Ji Yunting. If you can’t handle alcohol, know your limits. Got it? The rest of you, keep an eye on him.”

This wasn’t Pei Qiao being overly cautious. Everyone knew that while Ji Yunting could hold his liquor, his drunken antics were a disaster. Normally quiet and well-behaved, once drunk, he was capable of doing all sorts of unimaginable things, causing extreme embarrassment and trouble for everyone around him.

That night, cold winds howled through Ronggang, and the weather forecast predicted an approaching blizzard.

Koty drove them to a nightclub owned by a friend. Zhu Lianzhen despised places like this with flashing lights and deafening music. Since there were no private rooms available, they picked a corner far from the dance floor where they could at least hear each other talk.

As soon as they sat down, Ji Yunting started drinking. A few glasses in, he became noticeably more talkative, clinging to the person next to him and lamenting about life.

Fu Rong shoved him off in disgust and moved to the outermost seat, putting some distance between himself and the group.

Zhu Lianzhen wasn’t fond of alcohol, but he did enjoy the floating sensation of being tipsy. He picked a low-alcohol fruit wine and treated it like soda. Koty kept chattering, bringing up a recent movie Tan Qing had acted in, saying it had done quite well in Germany.

When Zhu Lianzhen heard that the combined domestic and international box office had reached 3.7 billion, he was taken aback. Even though Tan Qing had only played a supporting role, those numbers made it clear that the company had given him excellent resources.

Yet, instead of using the opportunity to fully transition into acting, Tan Qing had chosen to return to being an idol. It seemed he liked this job even more than Zhu Lianzhen had thought.

Wait—stage performances and acting didn’t really overlap… Thinking about Tan Qing’s suddenly packed schedule over the past two years, Zhu Lianzhen started to have doubts again: He really must be short on money. Every extra gig he can get, he takes.

Every time Koty poured a drink, he would offer a glass to Tan Qing, but Tan Qing never took a single sip. No matter how much he tried to persuade him, he only smiled and politely declined, “It wouldn’t be good if we all got drunk. Someone has to stay sober. You guys go ahead.”

Meanwhile, Koty was poking around like a gossip journalist, trying to squeeze some inside scoop from his teammates.

“Those two totally seem like they were having an affair. Are you sure there wasn’t any cheating?”

“Did they really break up, or was it just a publicity stunt?”

“Where did she sign after terminating her contract? Isn’t her ex-boyfriend her boss now?”

“…”

Zhu Lianzhen’s left ear was filled with Ji Yunting’s drunken groans, while his right ear was bombarded by Koty’s wild questions. The two annoying sounds alternated back and forth, making it impossible to even hear the music.

At that moment, an unfamiliar man approached their table, drink in hand.

More precisely, he was heading straight for Fu Rong.

Fu Rong had well-defined bone structure and a face so beautiful it defied gender. Without makeup, his eyes tilted up slightly at the corners, and his lips were thin and pale red. Lately, his hair had grown past his shoulders, and when it got in the way, he tied it up. In the hazy lighting, he radiated a kind of androgynous magnetism.

Maybe the man mistook him for a hot girl in need of company. Acting overly familiar, he slid into the seat next to Fu Rong. That alone was enough to make everyone nearby hold their breath. What no one expected was for him to throw an arm around Fu Rong’s shoulders, flashing an expensive-looking watch in the process.

Before he could finish his harassment and ask, “Hey, gorgeous, feeling down?” a glass of whiskey with ice was splashed directly onto his smug face.

“Get lost.”

The man was just about to start cursing when the cold yet forceful voice redirected his attention. He didn’t even have time to wipe the liquid off his face as he just stared at Fu Rong, wide-eyed in disbelief. “Are… are you a man or a woman?”

“A man.” Fu Rong lifted his lifeless eyes. “But I can still be your mother.”

The man’s face went through a range of emotions before he bolted, looking like he’d just seen a ghost.

For some reason, Zhu Lianzhen found the scene hilarious and let out a couple of chuckles at Fu Rong. But the moment the laughter escaped his lips, he panicked, realizing he must be drunk to have dared laugh in Fu Rong’s face.

He quickly put down his glass and headed to the restroom to wash his face.

The cold water refreshed his skin and cleared his head a little. He could hear people walking behind him, but he didn’t pay attention, keeping his head down, savoring the sensation of water running over his face.

Suddenly, someone grabbed the back of his collar, yanking just hard enough to make him stand up straight. Zhu Lianzhen wiped the water from his forehead and eyelids, glanced at the mirror, and the moment he recognized who it was, most of his wariness disappeared.

Tan Qing let go and reminded him seriously, “That’s tap water. You shouldn’t drink it.”

Zhu Lianzhen grumbled internally: Well, duh. Do you think I’m an idiot?