Zhu Lianzhen opened the door and stepped out. The moment his foot hit the floor, he heard a wet squelching sound. Looking down, he saw that the hallway was covered in puddles, and no one had taken the initiative to mop it up.
Under normal circumstances, Zhu Lianzhen wouldn’t have been the type to do chores either, but he suddenly noticed that the end of the hallway was beginning to freeze over, pale blue frost patterns spreading rapidly in his direction.
If he didn’t run now, he was going to be frozen in place!
Without another word, Zhu Lianzhen bolted downstairs, his footsteps loud enough to draw the attention of those in the living room. Ji Yunting saw him glancing frantically around and assumed he was looking for something. “What are you looking for?”
Zhu Lianzhen said, “A mousetrap.”
“There’s a rat?” Ji Yunting was startled and got up quickly. “Where? How big is it? We should call a professional.”
“You can’t catch it!” Zhu Lianzhen was rifling through boxes and drawers in a panic. “Jerry’s here!”
“Who?” Ji Yunting didn’t quite catch that. “A friend of yours?”
Before he could get an answer, Zhu Lianzhen shot into the kitchen and shoved his head into the gap between the fridge and the wall. Ji Yunting stood at the doorway and asked, “What are you doing?”
Just as he finished speaking, Zhu Lianzhen stood up, clutching the power plug he had just yanked out.
Now Jerry couldn’t ice skate anymore. Zhu Lianzhen let out a sigh of relief. Good thing he had reacted quickly—otherwise, that mouse would’ve turned the whole house into an ice rink.
“What are you doing?” Ji Yunting repeated in surprise, taking the plug back from Zhu Lianzhen and plugging it in again.
Zhu Lianzhen didn’t say a word and turned to check the faucet. Ji Yunting went outside and found a plastic bucket, intending to catch the so-called mouse himself. If that didn’t work, he’d call a professional.
He cautiously wandered around for five minutes. There wasn’t a single sign of a mouse, not even a bug. Maybe it had already slipped away through a door or window crack.
Carrying the bucket back downstairs, he heard Zhu Lianzhen shouting loudly in the living room, followed by Fu Rong cursing quite seriously. The two had started arguing.
“You’re looking more and more like him. Seriously, look in the mirror!” Zhu Lianzhen pointed at Fu Rong’s face with conviction. “Your skull’s getting bigger, your eyebrows are just as thick as Koty’s… Wow, look, look! Your nose and eyes—you’re literally Koty himself.”
Fu Rong couldn’t take that kind of character assassination. He was sure Zhu Lianzhen was deliberately picking a fight, and he was pretty close to throwing hands. Ji Yunting stepped in to separate them. “Go to bed already. If Pei-jie catches you staying up again, we’re all getting scolded.”
Zhu Lianzhen said nothing, staying behind on the sofa to watch TV. He blinked and saw that the male lead of the show was Koty. Looking closer, even the female lead’s face was gradually morphing into Koty’s deep-set, mixed-race features.
Zhu Lianzhen was truly stunned. This drama had been popular for a while, and he was just now realizing that Koty was playing both lead roles?
No, something wasn’t right.
Zhu Lianzhen finally noticed how strange everything had become.
He shot up and ran straight into Ji Yunting’s room, grabbing him by the shoulders under his stunned gaze. After urgently examining his face, he came to a terrifying conclusion. “It’s over, Ting-ge. Your face turned into Koty’s too!”
Ji Yunting was completely baffled. “What kind of episode are you having tonight?”
“Everyone’s doomed. Even the people on TV… There’s no escaping it.” Zhu Lianzhen muttered to himself, frantically running his hands over his own face to confirm that his features hadn’t changed yet. But before he could even feel relieved, a more pressing thought popped into his mind—Where’s Tan Qing?
Tan Qing wasn’t there.
Zhu Lianzhen took off in a panic. He rushed up the stairs, but slipped and fell. When he got back up, he found that a thick layer of ice had formed over the steps. No matter how cautiously he moved, he kept sliding back to the starting point.
He reached into his pocket. Thankfully, he still had his phone. He had to warn Tan Qing to evacuate.
There were hundreds of contacts in his phone, and Zhu Lianzhen didn’t have time to scroll through them. Relying on memory, he began typing in a number, but just as he keyed in the first few digits, the screen began to ripple like water. The black numbers on the white background wavered, slowly twisted and shifted, then floated upward, flying right out of the phone.
Zhu Lianzhen frantically reached out, trying to grab them back.
Koty heard something outside the door and came out to find a full-grown man sprawled on the stairway, startling him. “Are you trying to swat a mosquito?” He watched as Zhu Lianzhen flailed his hands wildly in the air.
Zhu Lianzhen was freaking out. “The 6 flew away! The 6 flew away!”
After a struggle, he managed to snatch the floating numbers back into place and finally made the call. The moment the line connected, he blurted out without hesitation, “Tan Qing!”
The voice on the other end responded immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“Run!”
“Run where?”
“I don’t know… Just don’t turn into Koty!” Zhu Lianzhen felt his body go limp and collapsed onto the stairs. While urging Tan Qing to evacuate quickly, he still didn’t forget to ask, “Have you been eating properly?”
There was a pause on the other end. Then Tan Qing asked, “What happened to you?”
Zhu Lianzhen ignored him and started mumbling to himself. “This living room is so beautiful. So much grass is growing. It’ll make the body healthier.”
Tan Qing tried again, “What’s going on?”
But there was no reply from Zhu Lianzhen.
He hung up and immediately requested leave from the film crew, rushing back to the dorm under the cover of night.
As soon as he walked in, he saw Zhu Lianzhen lying limply on the stairs and quickly went over to help him up. “Xiao Zhu?”
He leaned in, but there was no trace of alcohol. Frowning in suspicion, Tan Qing settled him on the sofa, then went into the kitchen to inspect the leftover food.
Half a minute later, he dragged Zhu Lianzhen out and loaded him into the car, a composed look in his eyes.
Before leaving, Tan Qing woke the others. Ji Yunting finally realized what had happened—some of the mushrooms at dinner had been an uncommon variety in the north. The rest of them didn’t like mushrooms and hadn’t eaten any, but Zhu Lianzhen had enjoyed a balanced meal of meat and vegetables.
No wonder he’d been spouting nonsense—it was probably food poisoning from undercooked mushrooms!
Ji Yunting quickly followed Tan Qing and took the keys. “You watch over him. I’ll drive.”
Tan Qing helped Zhu Lianzhen into the back seat and buckled him in. During the ride, Zhu Lianzhen wouldn’t sit still, waving both hands at the car window and muttering, “This is my last Poké Ball. If I can’t catch it, then so be it.”
To Zhu Lianzhen, the world had already detached from reality. The night sky looked like a vivid oil painting, with colorful goldfish darting between skyscrapers. Pokémon kept leaping out in front of him, luring him to catch them, but no matter how many Poké Balls he threw, none of them worked. He was getting seriously annoyed.
“Alright, you’re going to get carsick.” Tan Qing held down his arm.
Zhu Lianzhen gradually stopped fussing and leaned against Tan Qing in a daze. After a while, he muttered again, “Where’s Tan Qing?”
Tan Qing asked, “Why are you looking for him?”
“I have to keep an eye on him. What if he turns into Koty too?” Zhu Lianzhen stared out the car window. A sudden idea struck him. “I have to tell him that riding a goldfish is faster!”
Tan Qing turned to look at Zhu Lianzhen, stared at him for a moment, then said, “You don’t need to worry about him.”
“How can I not worry?” Zhu Lianzhen looked upset. “Who else does Tan Qing have that he can count on? He only has me!”
The car made a turn, and inertia tilted both of their bodies to one side. Zhu Lianzhen leaned into Tan Qing’s arms, watching the scenery blur past outside. Suddenly, he moved forward, pressing his face against the window. Just as the tip of his nose was about to touch the glass, his entire view was blocked by Tan Qing’s palm, and even his mouth was covered.
In a haze, he heard a low voice by his ear say, “He really does only have you.”
At the hospital, after the IV was hooked up, Ji Yunting finally felt at ease enough to step out and call Pei Qiao to report the situation. Tan Qing asked a nurse for a medication box and some tape to secure the hand Zhu Lianzhen was using for the drip.
“Water, I need water! I’m suffocating!” Zhu Lianzhen stared at the ceiling, mouth open as he gasped for breath. Tan Qing poured him a glass of water and helped him sit up to drink. But instead of drinking, Zhu Lianzhen shoved his mouth into the cup, sucking in air, then suddenly threw his head back, splashing the entire contents all over his face.
Tan Qing tried to pull the paper cup away, but Zhu Lianzhen held tightly to the bottom, refusing to let go. The cup stuck to his face from the suction, but thankfully it was only a disposable paper cup, so it didn’t cause any serious bruising around his mouth. As soon as Zhu Lianzhen got distracted, Tan Qing managed to pry it off and toss it aside.
Without the cup, Zhu Lianzhen then tried to suck on the wall, clearly convinced he was a fish. Tan Qing held his shoulder down, leaned in close, and softly asked, “Are you still looking for Tan Qing?”
Zhu Lianzhen stopped. He looked at him, carefully examining his features. It seemed like he recognized him, and his eyes lit up. His tone wasn’t exactly friendly, but in a dazed way, he asked, “Are you okay?”
Tan Qing said, “You should lie down and rest.”
Zhu Lianzhen spoke with earnest sincerity, “I could handle it if it were anyone else, but not you turning into Koty too.”
Tan Qing narrowed his eyes, momentarily at a loss for words, then replied, “I couldn’t handle that either.”
Zhu Lianzhen finally stopped flailing around and lay back, gazing up at the ceiling. Ah-Xu arrived in the middle of the night, worn out from travel. She found Zhu Lianzhen puckering his lips repeatedly at the air and grew concerned. “Is this a spasm? Did he injure his facial nerves?”
“No,” Tan Qing explained, “He thinks he’s a fish—blowing bubbles.”
Ah-Xu pulled over a chair and sat by the bed, kindly advising Tan Qing, “I’ll keep an eye on him. You should head back and get some rest.”
Tan Qing hummed in response but didn’t move.
Ah-Xu realized that he had only responded out of politeness and hadn’t actually registered what she said.
Having arrived late and with nothing else to do, she thought about helping Zhu Lianzhen find a medicine box. Every time he received an IV drip, he would insist on placing a small box under his hand because it felt more comfortable that way. He said nurses used to do that when he was a kid to keep his hand steady so the needle wouldn’t get dislodged.
When she looked up, Ah-Xu saw that there was already a medicine box placed under Zhu Lianzhen’s hand receiving the drip. Now, she truly had nothing to do and could only sit there as an unwanted third wheel.
The medication began to take effect, and the hallucinations caused by the toxin gradually faded. Zhu Lianzhen finally fell into a peaceful sleep. Tan Qing dimmed all the lights near the bed, leaving only the entrance light on.
Zhu Lianzhen’s facial features were beautiful and elegant. Even with just a raised brow or passing glance, his presence was undeniable. Though he was asleep now, a certain sharpness still lingered. Yet under the warm light, the shadows of his eyelashes curved into a smooth arc, subtly softening his aura.
Tan Qing sat silently in the chair beside the bed, occasionally glancing at the remaining fluid in the IV bottle. The room had been quiet for so long that Ah-Xu, absorbed in her phone, nearly forgot Tan Qing was even there.
She leaned over and whispered to him, “He should be fine now. You should go back and rest.”
This time, Tan Qing didn’t say anything. He simply nodded at her and slowly stood up. Ah-Xu thought he was about to leave and was just about to wish him a safe trip when she saw him casually pick up the cup Zhu Lianzhen had used earlier. He walked over to the water dispenser, refilled it with fresh water, and gently placed it back on the table.
Ah-Xu closed her mouth in a daze, realizing that maybe she was the one who ought to leave.
But she was Zhu Lianzhen’s full-time assistant. She was already here, and leaving now wouldn’t feel right. Still, if she stayed, wouldn’t she just be intruding on their little world of two?
At that moment, Tan Qing made another move. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on Zhu Lianzhen’s exposed arm, observing it carefully.
He reached out and lifted the sleeve to reveal the skin of Zhu Lianzhen’s upper arm. The light was dim, but Tan Qing could still make out a straight, thin scar about three to four centimeters long on the inner side. It looked like it had been caused by a quick slash.
“How did this happen?” Tan Qing asked Ah-Xu in a low voice.
“I think… it was during a gala rehearsal the year before last. One of the props he wore close to his body hadn’t had its edges smoothed down, and it cut him.” Ah-Xu remembered that injury clearly. A lot of artists had scheduling conflicts that day, and Zhu Lianzhen had to stay up late waiting for his turn. On top of the exhaustion from nonstop rehearsals, his body was worn out. He was wearing dark clothes that night, and under the stage lights, the blood wasn’t visible at all. It wasn’t until they got backstage and a staff member gasped that Zhu Lianzhen noticed the long gash on his arm.
Ah-Xu added, “He probably used a lot of scar-removal ointment. I asked him about it afterward, and he said it was nothing.”
Tan Qing nodded and brushed his fingers over the scar. The color had already faded significantly, and it had healed well, nearly blending in with the surrounding skin. Only by touching it could one feel the slight raised texture.
Zhu Lianzhen didn’t have a low sensitivity to pain; he had simply grown used to it after years of enduring it. He no longer minded the usual bumps and bruises from dance practice, and he’d even endured more serious injuries like bone fractures. So when it came to superficial wounds, as long as they weren’t particularly painful or in inconvenient places, he wouldn’t bother to check where the pain was coming from.
“Are there any other injuries?” Tan Qing withdrew his hand and asked Ah-Xu.
“That I’m not really sure about,” Ah-Xu replied hesitantly. She couldn’t help but wonder: Wait, are you thinking about taking his clothes off to check right now?
In that case, should she leave or stop him?
Fortunately, Tan Qing merely asked the question and didn’t make any further moves. He sat up straight and continued quietly watching Zhu Lianzhen’s sleeping face.
It had been like this that night too.
When Zhu Lianzhen hadn’t finished singing the final line of the song, Tan Qing had noticed something was wrong from the audience.
But Zhu Lianzhen had handled the performance so smoothly and naturally that the tens of thousands of people in the venue hadn’t noticed a thing. It wasn’t until after the concert, when entertainment reporters leaked news of his emergency hospital visit, that fans began to worry.
That night, just like now, Tan Qing had stayed silently by the bedside until morning. He hadn’t done anything or said a word.
The suspension of group activities had basically marked the end of their time as teammates. The long-ended secret relationship between them had only deepened the divide. Whether publicly or privately, he had no valid reason to visit—not even to check on the injury, because even that could cause unnecessary trouble for Zhu Lianzhen.
Unlike now. Now, even if he stayed the whole night, no one would find it inappropriate.
At that moment, Ah-Xu started to feel a little uneasy.
If Tan Qing had been playing on his phone like she had, he wouldn’t have seemed so strange. But instead, he sat there for what felt like forever without saying a single word, just quietly staring at Zhu Lianzhen, giving no hint of what he was thinking.
After mulling it over, she decided to make a quiet exit. “Um, I’m going to step outside for some air. If you get tired and want to leave, just call me.”
As soon as she left, the room felt even emptier.
Tan Qing’s phone, set to silent and left on the table, lit up frequently, but he ignored the notifications. His gaze stayed on Zhu Lianzhen’s face most of the time, though occasionally it drifted to the gap between the curtains, where the night outside grew darker and deeper.
Later, a nurse came in to check on things and removed the IV needle. The slight disturbance woke Zhu Lianzhen. He cracked his eyes open in a daze and made a small sound toward the nearby figure, “Mm…”
He was too sleepy to fully open his eyes. Tan Qing bent down and asked, “Want some water?”
Zhu Lianzhen’s eyelids twitched slightly.
Tan Qing gently lifted the back of his neck and fed him warm water along the seam of his lips. A few droplets flowed down, and Tan Qing raised his hand to wipe them away. Zhu Lianzhen’s eyes stayed closed. After setting the cup down, Tan Qing leaned in and told him, “It’s still a long time till dawn. Go back to sleep.”
Zhu Lianzhen’s brain didn’t have the energy to register who the person was. His head tilted, and he sank back into sleep.
Around six or seven in the morning, Zhu Lianzhen woke up.
The first thing he saw were unfamiliar curtains, with a dark blue light filtering in from outside. Then his lips moved slightly, and he realized his throat was painfully dry.
A voice spoke from above his head. “You’re awake?”
Still half-asleep, Zhu Lianzhen noticed someone sitting beside the bed. Judging by the IV stand, he figured he was in a hospital. He shut his eyes tightly, then opened them again, trying to make sense of the situation, and cast a probing look at Tan Qing.
“Wild mushroom poisoning,” Tan Qing said. “You were hallucinating. Do you remember?”
With the reminder, fragments of the previous night came rushing back to Zhu Lianzhen.
He asked in shock, “That wasn’t a dream? I really saw the whole world turn into Koty?”
Tan Qing stared at him without saying a word.
“What did the doctor say? Will there be any aftereffects?” Zhu Lianzhen started to worry.
“They told you to rest. Once they confirm the hallucinations are gone, you’ll be discharged,” Tan Qing said calmly. “It was a neurological type—there won’t be any lasting effects.”
Zhu Lianzhen let out a breath of relief.
He tried stretching. “I’m hungry.”
“Ah-Xu went to buy breakfast. She should be back soon.” Tan Qing poured him a cup of water. After handing it over, he picked up his phone and car keys and said, “I’ll head out now. If you feel unwell, let the doctor know right away.”
Zhu Lianzhen responded without thinking, “Oh.”
His head was still a bit foggy. A few seconds later, he belatedly asked, “How did I get here? Ambulance?”
Tan Qing: “The leader drove you.”
“Oh.” Zhu Lianzhen nodded. “Then why are you here?”
Tan Qing didn’t explain. After checking his belongings, he said goodbye, “So, I’m heading back to the film set now.”
What do you mean “so”? That didn’t even connect to anything you just said. Zhu Lianzhen grumbled inwardly as he watched Tan Qing walk away.
After putting down the cup, he picked up his phone to respond to messages. He let Pei Qiao know he was safe and then texted Ah-Xu his breakfast order.
A while later, Ah-Xu returned carrying a bag and casually asked, “Where’s Tan Qing?”
“He went back to the set.”
Ah-Xu looked surprised. “Huh? Back to filming?”
Zhu Lianzhen dug through the bag, picking out his breakfast. “What else?”
“Damn, that guy’s got endless energy. Doesn’t even sleep for a full twenty-four hours,” Ah-Xu said in awe.
Zhu Lianzhen paused mid-movement and quickly looked up at her. “What do you mean? He didn’t sleep last night?”
“How would I know? He was in the room, I was out in the hallway. I never saw him come out…” Ah-Xu said, glancing over at the nearby companion bed. The sheets were perfectly smooth, like they hadn’t been touched at all.
Zhu Lianzhen followed her gaze and roughly pieced things together. He asked again, “When did he get here?”
“Didn’t he bring you here?”
“He said Ting-ge brought me.”
Seeing Zhu Lianzhen furrow his brow, Ah-Xu quickly corrected herself. “I’m not sure! I got here after he did. But when they hooked you up to the IV, he was already sitting next to you.”
“…He stayed from last night all the way until just now?”
“Yeah,” Ah-Xu answered honestly. Thinking back on the eerie atmosphere Tan Qing gave off last night, she added, “He was sitting there like a ghost.”
Zhu Lianzhen put down his breakfast and immediately picked up his phone to call Tan Qing.
Tan Qing answered on the other end. “What’s wrong?”
Zhu Lianzhen: “Your shooting schedule’s that tight?”
Tan Qing: “It’s not too bad.”
“Then how about taking the day off today? Come back and have breakfast with me.” Zhu Lianzhen tried to sound firm, filling his words with confidence. “I’ll wait for you.”
Tan Qing didn’t agree or refuse outright. He just said, “I’ve already left the parking lot.”
Zhu Lianzhen: “Then just come back.”
After hanging up, Zhu Lianzhen called Ji Yunting to confirm what had happened. He learned some of the details from the previous night, including the fact that Tan Qing had been the first to notice something was wrong with him.
Ji Yunting felt deeply guilty. He’d spent the most time with Zhu Lianzhen that night but hadn’t noticed a thing. Mushroom poisoning was rare in the north, and Zhu Lianzhen was always joking around—acting cute, pulling pranks. When he’d said something like “You turned into Koty,” Ji Yunting had assumed he was just messing with Fu Rong like usual.
Just then, there was a sound at the door. Zhu Lianzhen turned his head and saw that Tan Qing had come back.
“I’ll hang up now.” He set down his phone.
Ah-Xu, happily munching on a roujiamo,[mfn]Roujiamo is a street food with meat stuffed in a flatbread 
[/mfn] looked up just in time to sense that something was off between the two of them. It felt like they both wanted to say something but were hesitating because someone else was in the room.
She was speechless. “Guess I should leave again, huh.”
