In a group built on rebellion, Tan Qing stood out like a model student who didn’t belong.
The company had decided he should project the image of a traditional idol, so he lived up to expectations: a flawless smile, impeccable manners, top-tier skills, a knack for charming the audience, and a careful avoidance of crossing any lines. Even the harshest entertainment media praised him as a “textbook example of fanservice.”
His emotions were always meticulously controlled. Even when there were no cameras around, he remained effortlessly graceful. Zhu Lianzhen often complained that he was pretentious.
But precisely because everyone was so used to this gentle persona, they overlooked the occasional glimpses of something more wicked—no other artist would dare flirt onstage under the watchful eyes of thousands. Yet it had been Tan Qing, the so-called idol role model, who had uttered those inappropriate words.
Looking back now, Zhu Lianzhen felt immensely relieved that the cameras hadn’t clearly caught their lips. Otherwise, with fans’ investigative skills, they would have deciphered his exact words within seconds.
“So what were you two whispering about back then?” Ah-Xu asked curiously. The advantage of being a celebrity assistant was getting inside gossip firsthand.
Zhu Lianzhen gave her a side-eye and lied, “Hail Hydra.”[mfn]This is a line from Avengers: 
https://youtu.be/NJSO52hGZGs?t=25
[/mfn]
Ah-Xu: “???”
Ah-Xu: “You’re losing it. I ask you something and you give me nonsense!”
–
With the performance date drawing closer, Music Class hadn’t even aired yet, but its trending topics were already skyrocketing. For many guest performers, the upcoming show was a major source of anxiety.
The reason was simple: this year, the official regulations for audiovisual programs had been tightened. Singers could no longer rely on pre-recorded tracks, and even backing vocals were subject to strict limits. On top of that, Music Class was a live broadcast. These combined factors practically set the stage for a public execution of idols lacking in skill.
Pei Qiao had been on a warpath these past few days. Thanks to her persistence, Acemon’s stage set and props were finally approved in full, and the production team had stopped interfering too much.
On the way to rehearsal, Ah-Xu was watching compilation clips from the music show on her phone. Over the past six months, several idol groups had gained strong momentum, especially Lock-M, which had even turned some of her industry friends into fans.
Zhu Lianzhen glanced at her phone. “Who’s that?”
Ah-Xu was surprised. “You don’t recognize Xue Chun? Lock-M’s main vocalist. His fancam already hit over a million views on YouTube.”
“The group that won the rookie award at the start of the year? Oh.” Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t name any of the individual members, but he did have some impression of the group as a whole.
Zhu Lianzhen wanted to kill some time, so he leaned over to watch with Ah-Xu, curious about what made this rising star so popular. After watching for a bit, he got the idea—the newcomer was really good at fanservice during performances and always knew exactly when to do it.
But something about the way he moved felt oddly familiar. As Zhu Lianzhen watched, he tried to recall where he had seen that style before.
At the end of the video, Ah-Xu asked, “So? His dancing might not be as good as yours, but his facial expressions are pretty well managed, right?”
Zhu Lianzhen didn’t respond. He was still lost in thought.
Ah-Xu thought he was holding back some snarky comment, so she probed, “Aren’t you always the one eager to mentor juniors? I thought you’d take a liking to this one.”
Zhu Lianzhen finally realized where that sense of deja vu came from. He scoffed. “Of all the people to copy, he just had to copy Tan Qing.”
Ah-Xu was confused by his remark. “Are they similar? I never would’ve connected the two of them.”
“That’s because it’s an early version of Tan Qing’s style. No one remembers it anymore.” Zhu Lianzhen shifted his gaze away from the screen. “Blatant fanservice like that was popular seven or eight years ago. What he did just now was exactly the stuff Tan Qing used to do… What era are we even in, and people are still imitating him? And without adding anything new.”
Hearing him mumble, Ah-Xu remarked, “Well, you guys are a textbook success story. The techniques aren’t outdated, so just consider it a tribute. Gotta say, your memory’s scary good. How do you still remember stuff from when you first debuted?”
Zhu Lianzhen looked out the car window, pausing for a moment before speaking in a low voice. “Some things aren’t so easy to forget.”
All five members of Acemon arrived at the rehearsal venue on time—even Fu Rong wasn’t late. After familiarizing themselves with the camera placements, they went to rest and waited for their evening performance.
Since waiting rooms were limited, most idols had to stay in the hallway. The tension was thick, as if they were heading into an exam. But it was also a good chance to socialize, with idols from different companies chatting, gossiping, and joking around to shake off the nerves.
They had just started to relax when the door of a lounge opened. A man wearing glasses stepped out and instructed, “Excuse me, could everyone please keep it down?”
As soon as he finished speaking, the surroundings fell completely silent.
The man nodded with a smile and informed them, “Lock-M is resting inside. Please try to control your volume.”
With that, he turned back and shut the lounge door firmly behind him.
The young idols in the hallway exchanged quiet glances for several seconds before someone finally couldn’t hold back and muttered a low, “Damn.” Everyone chuckled knowingly. That single word was enough to ease the embarrassment of being silenced.
Many of them had more stage experience than Lock-M, but in the idol industry, status was built on popularity and resources, not years since debut. The more famous you were, the more confidence you had. This rule was deeply ingrained in everyone’s mind.
“Managers from big companies are really fierce,” a girl murmured. “Actually, Lock-M’s leader has a pretty good personality. I’ve met him a few times.”
A teammate whispered back, “I heard Zhuxing Media signs artists by poaching them. Whenever small companies train promising talents, they find ways to lure them over.”
“That’s normal. What trainee could resist that kind of temptation… Eh? Is that—” The girl’s words trailed off as her attention was suddenly drawn to a tall figure at the end of the hallway. “No way, is that Zhu Lianzhen?”
Her excitement made her lose control of her volume. The nearby idols, upon hearing that name, all turned in the same direction.
Regardless of gender, the moment they saw all five members of Acemon appear before their eyes at the same time, they couldn’t help but gape in amazement. The feeling was completely different from seeing any other popular idol. Others were just outstanding peers, but those five were legends who had once led an entire era. When Acemon’s tour had drawn over a million attendees, many of the idols standing here hadn’t even learned how to sing from their core.
“Oh… I look so girly. I don’t usually even wear turtleneck sweaters.” Koty dejectedly clutched at the black scarf around his neck. The director had instructed the makeup artist to cover the tattoo on his neck, but with limited time, this was the only makeshift solution.
Ji Yunting brushed his hand away. “Stop messing with it. These fastenings are tricky to tie.”
“There are pretty girls up ahead. Gotta keep my image,” Koty justified himself.
“You’re unbelievable…” Ji Yunting sighed.
Led by the staff, the five of them walked straight ahead without looking around. The idols gathered in the hallway instinctively moved back against the walls, making space in the middle. They watched as Acemon entered their lounge, and before the door had even fully closed, they were already exchanging excited reactions.
“Oh my god, I got goosebumps. I can’t believe I saw all five of them at once.”
“Shh—keep your voice down. Didn’t you see Zhu Lianzhen’s expression just now? He totally looked annoyed by the noise.”
“I-I didn’t see it. My mind went completely blank. It feels like I’ve finally succeeded as a fan.”
“This isn’t success! We need to figure out a way to get autographs later.”
“Seriously, are you guys here for a fan meet or what?”
…
At the moment, aside from the show itself, Acemon was the only shared topic among them. Everyone started talking all at once, their voices growing louder and louder, completely forgetting the Lock-M manager’s earlier warning.
A few minutes later, clear rock music started playing from Acemon’s lounge.
“Turn it off.” Zhu Lianzhen impatiently kicked Koty’s calf. “There are so many people outside. Don’t be so loud.”
“This is for them to hear,” Koty replied. “They looked way too nervous. Probably stage fright.”
Zhu Lianzhen: “Don’t tell me you’re into someone again.”
Koty chuckled, then said seriously, “I think none of them look as good as Fu Rong today.”
Fu Rong turned a deaf ear, idly toying with his freshly trimmed short hair.
Outside, the discussions continued.
“Listen, isn’t the lounge next door playing music too?” The group began whispering. “Why isn’t the Lock-M manager coming out this time?”
“As if he’d dare. Even A-Group’s manager can’t control them.”
Everyone instinctively leaned in to listen. Sure enough, music was playing from Lock-M’s lounge, and the volume was steadily increasing, almost drowning out the rock music next door.
“A Cantonese song? I’m sure I’ve heard it before, but I can’t remember the lyrics.” Someone pulled out their phone to search for the song title. After a few moments, he suddenly let out a “Whoa,” and said, “Do you think this is being played deliberately for Acemon?”
“Why?” The others were curious.
The person found the song and read out a line of lyrics: “How many times have you suffered in bitter love? Carefully planting and wholeheartedly nurturing, yet in the end, the harvest belongs to someone younger. This time, you really mind it.”[mfn]The song: When Grapes Are Ripe (葡萄成熟時) by Eason Chan[/mfn]
The lyrics seemed to describe romance, but not just romance. Given Acemon’s well-known history, those lines took on an intriguing meaning.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Are they trying to say Acemon can’t measure up to their juniors? Lock Group’s manager isn’t stupid, so why would he stir up drama like that?”
“Not necessarily. Both groups became instantly popular when they debuted, but you know what happened to A-Group later.”
“Don’t overthink it. I think they were just annoyed by the noise next door, so they turned up their music on purpose.”
As the discussions continued, a sudden, muffled wail came from Acemon’s lounge, and the rock music abruptly stopped. Half a minute later, the door opened. Everyone watched as a female assistant quickly walked over to the next door in high heels and knocked twice.
The crowd fell silent, eager to see what would happen.
“Hello.” As soon as the door opened, Ah-Xu got straight to the point. “Please turn off the speaker.”
Her second sentence carried a commanding tone. The man in glasses looked at her with confusion and asked, “And you are?”
Ah-Xu couldn’t be bothered to introduce herself. She simply gave a polite smile. “I’m just here to pass on a message: Fu Rong says it’s too loud.”
Hearing Fu Rong’s name made the man hesitate. After all, there was no one else in the entertainment industry as unfiltered as Fu Rong—if he didn’t like someone, he’d tear them apart right in front of the camera. His sharp tongue was notorious. If they ever had to collaborate in the future, offending him now would only lead to trouble.
However, this was about his own artists’ pride, so the manager showed no signs of backing down. He returned the same polite smile and said, “Apologies, the kids here are feeling nervous before going on stage, so they just wanted to listen to some music to relax.”
The last person who tried to “relax with music” had just been hit by Fu Rong. Ah-Xu let out a small laugh. “If you want to relax, go to the hotel. It’s not far from here.”
Before the man could respond, a boy inside decisively turned off the speaker, and the place fell into sudden silence. He looked toward the door and gave Ah-Xu an apologetic smile.
“Thanks for cooperating.” Ah-Xu glanced at him and realized it was Xue Chun, the group’s center. She had just watched his fancam in the car not long ago.
After she left, the man shut the door, turned around, and stared at the boy reproachfully. “Why are you being such a wimp? If you give an inch, they’ll take a mile. Does it feel good to be pushed around?”
The boy replied sulkily, “They’re our seniors… and we haven’t even greeted them yet.”
“Forget about those formalities. They’re unnecessary. Do you really think they’re all that respectable? Hurry up and eat something. You don’t want to get dizzy on stage later.” He added, “But don’t eat too much.”
The atmosphere in Lock-M’s lounge grew heavier. The members were all rookies, accustomed to following their manager’s orders, and even the slightest mistake would earn them a scolding, so no one dared to slack off.
The waiting room next door was a total contrast. Despite the presence of directors and cameramen, Acemon’s members still messed around as they pleased.
Both groups were scheduled to perform during prime time that evening, and with the live broadcast yet to begin, they still had plenty of time to rehearse their moves.
The director suggested, “Alright, now pretend you’re about to go on stage. Do a cheer or something—we can use it as a transition shot.”
“How do we cheer?” Zhu Lianzhen stretched out a peace sign at her. “Like this?”
“No, you should gather in a circle and stack your hands together.”
The group turned toward the camera and followed the instructions. The director gestured silently from the side as a cue. Ji Yunting caught on and, playing along, took the lead in calling out: “Three, two, one, Acemon—”
“Let’s go!”
“Fighting!”
“We’re the strongest!”
“Victory!”
“Disband!”
The five of them shouted at the same time, their voices overlapping into a chaotic mess, making it impossible to tell who said what. Realizing their lack of coordination, each one immediately backed off, insisting someone else had messed it up.
With no resolution in sight, the director gave up on the idea. “Forget it. Pretend I never said anything.”
Even though they hadn’t performed together in two years, they felt no awkwardness working as a team. After waiting idly for over an hour, it was finally their turn to head to the lift platform for their entrance.
As they left the waiting room, Zhu Lianzhen put in his in-ear monitor and noticed the space beside him suddenly empty. Turning his head, he saw that Tan Qing had stopped to talk to a group of juniors in the hallway.
“You’re going to wait here until the end?” Tan Qing asked. When they nodded, his expression softened. “You’ve worked hard. If you get tired, you can rest in our waiting room. There’s warm water inside.”
The hallway was cold, and many of the idols were only wearing their thin stage outfits. Receiving such unexpected concern from a senior, they were all flattered and thanked him in surprise.
Zhu Lianzhen clicked his tongue and paused for a few extra seconds until Tan Qing caught up.
The stairs leading to the lift platform were high. After stepping up, Tan Qing naturally turned around and extended his hand. Zhu Lianzhen, still focused on recalling the lyrics in his head, took it without thinking.
Their similar body temperatures pressed together. Suddenly snapping back to reality, Zhu Lianzhen instinctively tried to let go, but Tan Qing’s fingers tightened first.
Their eyes met for a second, and Zhu Lianzhen felt a buzz in his head.
Are we holding hands?
…Well, let’s just hold them.
Shaking off his hesitation, he gripped Tan Qing’s hand firmly and used the support to step onto the platform.
![6-Minute Surrender [esports]](https://www.freenovels.net/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/0cbcc685c90e15317844096a5132ce5247.jpg "6-Minute Surrender [esports]")