FIG CHAPTER 35.2

The night was long. For the first time in a while, Zhu Lianzhen had a dream that felt close to reality.

He dreamed that the group went to shoot for an outdoor magazine. There were many trees around, and the staff were holding machines spraying something like mist. A moth flew in and, while Zhu Lianzhen was distracted, landed on the tip of his nose. Then Koty let out a sharp scream and swung a sleeve at him.

Zhu Lianzhen immediately got annoyed and snapped, “What are you yelling for! You almost hit me in the eye!”

Koty screamed at the top of his lungs, “There’s a bug! A powder-shedding bug!!!”

Zhu Lianzhen watched the dusty gray moth flap its wings and move closer to the others. Its flight was awkward. Tan Qing reached out, and the moth landed right on his fingertip.

Then something magical happened. The moth transformed into a butterfly, shimmering with brilliant color. Koty stopped yelling about it being a bug, and everything around them quieted down.

Tan Qing, with the butterfly perched on his finger, slowly lifted his arm and let it return to Zhu Lianzhen’s nose.

The dream ended there, and Zhu Lianzhen woke up.

He remembered that Koty had punched him in the dream, which annoyed him, so he decided to doze off again and get his revenge. But in that hazy in-between state, he felt like he’d forgotten something. He forced his eyes open.

Sunlight was already filtering in through the white curtains. Zhu Lianzhen groggily remembered—this was Tan Qing’s home.

It wasn’t really appropriate to laze around at an ex’s place, so he quickly got up.

After borrowing some disposable toiletries from Tan Qing’s house, Zhu Lianzhen stepped out of the room feeling refreshed. The living and dining area was filled with the rich aroma of coffee.

Tan Qing was leaning against the corner of the balcony, gazing out at the riverside and the morning light between the buildings. When he saw that Zhu Lianzhen had woken, he said, “Breakfast is on the table.”

Zhu Lianzhen noticed the morning breeze ruffling a few strands of his hair. “Has your fever gone down? Why are you standing in front of an open window?”

“I took my temperature.” Tan Qing stubbed out the cigarette in his hand and explained, “It’s almost summer. The wind outside isn’t cold.”

Zhu Lianzhen walked over to the table and sat down. He lifted the lid of the food cover. On the plate were pistachio-crusted grilled salmon and an omelet. The coffee beside it smelled faintly of oranges, but it wasn’t sour at all. It suited his taste perfectly.

During the meal, Zhu Lianzhen noticed from the corner of his eye that Tan Qing seemed to be looking at him. To confirm it, he subtly lifted his gaze under the cover of taking a sip of coffee.

—He was indeed looking at him.

Zhu Lianzhen set down his cup and pretended not to notice, continuing to eat.

It really was almost summer. It was just after seven, yet the morning sun had already filled the entire house, casting a pale golden light on the edges and corners of the furniture.

Tan Qing finally shifted his gaze away from Zhu Lianzhen and resumed looking out the window.

Both of them seemed to understand how rare this moment of peace was. During a certain phase of their shared memories, they had experienced leisurely mornings like this as well. Zhu Lianzhen would wake up to a fresh breakfast, while Tan Qing quietly tended to his plants in the sunlight or helped feed the cat.

Then they would go off to work together—sometimes for group schedules, sometimes for solo jobs. No one knew that behind their roles as teammates, there had been something more intimate. It had been a kind of test, teaching them to stay vigilant even in lighthearted conversations and to find excitement in the thrill of a hidden relationship.

After Zhu Lianzhen had eaten his fill, Tan Qing came over to clear the dishes and took them to the kitchen to wash. He was always efficient at housework, often finishing everything before others had even thought about it. It was a good habit likely developed in childhood.

Zhu Lianzhen stood up and went to the entryway to pick up the gift box placed there.

By the time Tan Qing came out of the kitchen, the box had already been handed to him. He raised an eyebrow, took it, and glanced over it. “Mm, this is it. Thanks for finding it.”

Zhu Lianzhen pretended to be curious. “What’s inside? You’ve been so mysterious about it.”

Tan Qing placed it on the desk in the study, turned back, and smiled at him. “I told you last time.”

Of course, Zhu Lianzhen remembered the so-called matter that would “make things complicated for both of us.” If he hadn’t opened it himself, he might have actually believed Tan Qing’s explanation.

He followed him into the study and saw the perfume display cabinet beside the bookshelf. The bottles were all of different shapes, all exquisite and weighty, looking more like pieces of art than everyday items.

One of them resembled a transparent heart in slumber. Zhu Lianzhen recognized it immediately: Kingdom of Red Hearts by McQueen, a rare limited edition that had been discontinued for years.

“This…” Zhu Lianzhen pointed at it.

“Your birthday gift to me when I turned twenty.” Tan Qing walked over and glanced again at the other perfumes in the cabinet. “These were all from you. Don’t you remember?”

Of course Zhu Lianzhen remembered. Sometimes, when passing through airport duty-free shops, if he came across a fragrance that suited Tan Qing, he would buy it for him. He hadn’t expected that, after a few years of doing this, the collection would grow to such an exaggerated number.

And it wasn’t just the perfumes. Tan Qing’s study also held other things Zhu Lianzhen had given him, like the 3D puzzle now serving as decoration on the shelf.

That had all started from a time when Tan Qing was playing a game with him and got stuck on a tricky level. He had casually said, “I like these kinds of challenges that test your patience,” and Zhu Lianzhen had naturally assumed that Tan Qing liked anything that required patience.

There was also a box of vinyl records. Tan Qing enjoyed old songs from the last century, and it just so happened that Zhu Lianzhen had a friend who was into vinyl. He would often pick out records that suited Tan Qing’s taste.

Whenever Zhu Lianzhen expressed his feelings, his methods were always simple and straightforward. He was shy about saying things outright, so he preferred to give things the other person could see and touch.

Traces of Zhu Lianzhen could be found everywhere in the room. He ran his fingers along one of the perfume bottles and said, “This study feels like something I rented out to you.”

“It does.” Tan Qing picked up a fallen puzzle piece and slotted it back into place. “When you were passionate, it was like you didn’t know when to stop.”

Then what about when I was indifferent? Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t help but wonder.

There was a narrow track above the bookshelf that looked like a simple decorative trim if you didn’t look closely. Zhu Lianzhen noticed how cleverly it was built. He had never paid attention to it during past visits, so without thinking much, he pulled the shelf open.

Tan Qing abruptly turned his head and stepped forward to stop him, but he was still a few seconds too late.

Zhu Lianzhen saw what was inside, and his chest tightened. He immediately shut it again, turned around, and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He hadn’t expected the space behind it to hold a memorial photo of Tan Qing’s mother. His actions just now had been too careless, and he felt guilty about it.

Tan Qing shook his head and said calmly, “Don’t worry about it. There’s just nowhere else to put it.”

Zhu Lianzhen touched the tip of his nose to hide his embarrassment. As he lowered his hand, it brushed against the pocket at his side, and the key jabbed him. He had almost forgotten about that bit of junk he’d picked up absentmindedly the day before. Now, he pulled it out again and placed it on Tan Qing’s desk.

His eyes drifted and caught sight of the gift box once more.

“I should head back. Naisi hasn’t been fed yet,” Zhu Lianzhen said.

“Heading back to the dorm? I’ll go with you, just give me a second to tidy up.” Tan Qing went to check the power switches and gas. From the doorway, Zhu Lianzhen raised his voice, “You just recovered, so don’t wear yourself out.”

“The dorm footage will be edited later. If fans notice I’m missing, they might worry.” Tan Qing shut off the main power. “Let’s go.”

While heading downstairs, Zhu Lianzhen received a message from Ah-Xu, asking where he had disappeared to without a word.

Zhu Lianzhen replied: “Tan Qing was sick. I stopped by to check if he was dead or not.”

Ah-Xu: “What illness was it? Something serious?”

“A fever. Didn’t he post it on his Moments?”

There was a delay before Ah-Xu responded again: “How come I didn’t see it? Damn, did he block me?”

Zhu Lianzhen’s fingers paused.

There was no reason for Tan Qing to block a teammate’s assistant, but it was entirely possible he had used the “visible to selected groups” feature.

Zhu Lianzhen remembered that the mutual friend who had commented on Tan Qing’s post yesterday was a celebrity known for being very interactive online. If someone like that had seen a post about illness, it would have been completely normal to send a get-well message.

…So that post had been meant just for him?

The elevator doors opened. Zhu Lianzhen put away his phone and his suspicions and followed behind Tan Qing.

On the way, the two of them chatted idly. The conversation naturally drifted to their trainee days. Zhu Lianzhen figured it was a safe topic. After all, back then, their relationship had been purely that of teammates.

“I got sick once at that time, and you took care of me,” Tan Qing said, turning to look at him. “You probably don’t remember.”

It had been a long time ago, but when Zhu Lianzhen thought hard, he could vaguely recall something.

＊＊＊

At the time, Tan Qing had just joined the group as a sudden addition. He had no background in singing or dancing and knew almost nothing about showbiz. It had been hard for Zhu Lianzhen not to be biased against him, suspecting he’d been shoved in by some executive or shareholder.

Although Zhu Lianzhen didn’t go out of his way to target him, it was impossible for him to have a good attitude toward Tan Qing.

Once, a snowstorm hit Ronggang so badly that schools across the city were closed. Yet Tan Qing still asked if they should go to the company to practice. Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t stand that kind of pointless question and just brushed him off with “Yeah, yeah, yeah!”

The next day, when the snow cleared and everyone gathered for training, Tan Qing was the only one who arrived late. He looked unwell, his voice hoarse and his face slightly flushed.

Ji Yunting told him to take a sick day and asked about his symptoms. Tan Qing explained that he had thought they were supposed to come to the company the day before, and after waiting too long for a ride in the cold, he had ended up catching a cold.

After being scolded by the leader, Zhu Lianzhen still tried to argue his case, “It’s not like I deliberately tricked him. Couldn’t he tell from my tone that I was joking? Even if he couldn’t, any normal person would know not to go out during a snowstorm!”

Tan Qing began coughing uncontrollably. When his eyes turned red from the coughing, he looked up at Ji Yunting and said, “Xiao Zhu’s right. It was my own lack of common sense. Don’t blame him.”

Zhu Lianzhen let out a “tch” and thought: Of course it’s not my fault. Didn’t it occur to you to ask someone else? You just believed me without a second thought? You nearly pass out from dance practice every day without showing weakness, and now one cold breeze turns you into a teary-eyed mess?

Ji Yunting didn’t want to get involved in teammates’ drama—what did it have to do with him? Still, as the leader, he had to maintain appearances, so he advised Zhu Lianzhen to at least apologize out of politeness. After all, the guy was sick.

Zhu Lianzhen muttered under his breath, “It’s not like I pushed him into the cold. He went out on his own without dressing warmly. Who else is there to blame…”

“Look at how red his eyes are,” Ji Yunting said. “Could he be crying because of you?”

Zhu Lianzhen froze for a second, then turned to glance at Tan Qing. He was sitting in a corner of the dance studio, staring blankly at the wall, lost in who-knew-what kind of thoughts.

Zhu Lianzhen walked over to check on him.

Tan Qing’s eyes were damp. He’d been drained from recent dance practices, and now, with a fever on top of that, his eyes were slightly red. It seemed like tears might fall at any moment.

Zhu Lianzhen asked, “Did you take your temperature? Are you sure it’s actually a fever?”

Tan Qing stood up, raising his line of sight to a higher position. “I’ll just go home and take some medicine.”

Hearing that evasive answer made Zhu Lianzhen even more suspicious. He stepped sideways to block Tan Qing’s path, thinking, “You’re not faking this, are you?” At the same time, he raised his hand to touch Tan Qing’s forehead.

The heat against his palm made him blink. His previously aggressive look softened instantly.

“You… you’re really burning up.” Zhu Lianzhen didn’t know how to respond. He turned to look at Ji Yunting. Unfortunately, the leader clearly couldn’t have cared less, just hoping they would sort things out themselves.

Tan Qing stared at Zhu Lianzhen with those reddened eyes, his gaze full of fragile fatigue. His voice was hoarse as he said, “I’m okay. Your hand’s just a little cold.”

Even if Zhu Lianzhen didn’t like him most days, it was mostly just a habit of showing off with words. Now that he’d confirmed Tan Qing was genuinely feverish, he couldn’t help but worry, especially since this could affect their group’s training schedule. Plus, Tan Qing had only gone out in the snow because of what he’d said, so he felt partially responsible.

“Come on, we’re going to the hospital.” Without thinking, he grabbed Tan Qing’s wrist and started pulling him out.

Tan Qing’s eyes fell to where they were touching. He said quietly, “I already went this morning. The meds are at the dorm.”

“What time in the morning?”

“Around five or six. The affiliated hospital. It’s close.”

Zhu Lianzhen had been fast asleep at the time and hadn’t heard the dorm door open at all.

“Where are you two going?” Ji Yunting was worried they were heading somewhere deserted to fight.

“Back to the dorm!” Zhu Lianzhen replied.

The walk from the practice room to the dormitory took about ten minutes. Considering the other’s condition, Zhu Lianzhen slowed his pace.

There were six members in the group, split among three dorm rooms. Originally, Zhu Lianzhen had the luxury of enjoying a two-bedroom suite by himself. After the new member joined, he had to give up half the space. This was one of the reasons he had been annoyed with Tan Qing.

Tan Qing had brought back Chinese medicine from the hospital. As it simmered, the bitter, sour scent drifted from the kitchen into the living room, making Zhu Lianzhen frown.

“How much longer till it’s ready?” Zhu Lianzhen asked.

“Fifteen minutes,” Tan Qing replied.

Zhu Lianzhen threw on a jacket and went out. He came back just as the time was about up, carrying a bag in his hand.

The kitchen stove was already turned off, and Tan Qing was washing dishes.

“You already drank the medicine?” Zhu Lianzhen asked in surprise when he saw a bowl that had been washed clean and was gleaming white.

“Mm.”

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Zhu Lianzhen placed the bag on the island and opened it. It was full of candies, all different brands and flavors.

He offered them to Tan Qing. “Which one do you want?”

Tan Qing glanced at it, thinking Zhu Lianzhen was just sharing his snacks, and shook his head to say he didn’t eat candy.

“How can you not eat candy after drinking bitter medicine?”

Zhu Lianzhen had been sick a few times as a kid. He didn’t want injections or IV drips, so the only option was Chinese medicine. Even then, it took the adults coaxing, pleading, and bargaining with him until he could finally mentally prepare himself, grab the bowl like he was going into battle, and down it in one gulp.

And it wasn’t over after that. He had to drink half a bowl of water to wash down the bitterness, and only then would he finally be rewarded with a piece of candy.

Tan Qing put the clean bowl into the cupboard. As he turned around, something soft pressed gently against his lips—a white marshmallow.

Zhu Lianzhen figured that someone who was sick might not have the strength to open the wrapper, so he helped tear it open. Tan Qing obediently bit down and took it into his mouth. Inside was a fruity, sweet-and-sour jam.

“Tastes good, right?” Zhu Lianzhen grinned proudly. It was his favorite kind of marshmallow, from a brand not many people knew.

Back when Zhu Lianzhen was fourteen or fifteen, he had always tried to act tough, but in truth, he was full of youthful energy, like a fox cub that seemed clever and sharp, but one big yawn would completely expose his bluff.

Still, he remained proud and radiant.

The marshmallow melted completely in Tan Qing’s mouth, leaving behind a sweet and tangy aftertaste. He stared at the sharp white tip of Zhu Lianzhen’s canine tooth and nodded silently.