FIG CHAPTER 43

Wrapping zongzi on a deserted island felt a bit absurd once they actually got down to it. But since the fans had asked for it, fulfilling the request wasn’t too much trouble.

They sat around a table, slowly peeling cooked crabs. There was barely any crab roe, and the meat probably wouldn’t taste great as zongzi filling either. No one seemed particularly excited about the task.

Zhu Lianzhen felt a strange sense of deja vu and said, “Why do I feel like we’ve peeled crabs together before, also outdoors? Was it a dream?”

Ji Yunting didn’t recall anything like that. “I don’t think that ever happened.”

“We shelled peas together,” Tan Qing said.

“Oh, I remember now. That time Pei-jie sent us to the countryside and made us do farm work every day.” Ji Yunting glanced at Koty and Zhu Lianzhen. “Weren’t you two the culprits? You got into a fight backstage and got us all punished.”

Koty looked aggrieved. “I had nothing to do with it. It was Zhu Lianzhen who started the fight with Fan Gerong.”

Zhu Lianzhen gave a guilty cough and tried to defend himself. “Wasn’t that supposed to be a group vacation…”

Since their trainee days, Zhu Lianzhen and Fan Gerong had never gotten along. One was the main dancer, the other the lead vocalist—each proud in his own way, both annoyed by how the other tried to hog the spotlight. After their debut, the tension only worsened, especially because the company kept trying to pair them up for fanservice, which neither of them wanted.

With all that built-up resentment, an explosion was inevitable. No one remembered who started it or who threw the first punch, but in the end, the whole group got a thorough scolding from Pei Qiao.

Pei Qiao said they had gotten popular too fast and were letting it go to their heads. To bring them back down to earth, she arranged a trip that was framed as a vacation but turned out to be a boot camp.

They were used to the pampered life of idols, so waking up early and doing farm work was already hard enough. On top of that, their phones were confiscated, leaving them with no entertainment at all. But since none of them were the type to sit around doing nothing, they found paper and pens to create their own deck of cards. When that got boring, they went outside to catch mantises and crickets or skipped stones for fun. That kind of simple joy was enough to keep them entertained.

A local family that raised rabbits gave them a few as a gift. Koty had never eaten rabbit before and couldn’t bear to harm such fluffy, cute creatures. He and Zhu Lianzhen named them and kept them in the house as pets.

The two of them slacked off, spending all day playing with the rabbits. It wasn’t until evening that they pretended to be busy and went out to chop firewood.

Usually, Tan Qing was the one who cooked, but that day he had gone into town to buy supplies. His motorcycle broke down, and he wouldn’t be back until later, so Fu Rong was put in charge of the kitchen.

Fu Rong looked like the kind of guy who never lifted a finger, but he was actually quite skilled in the kitchen. He just never cooked for anyone else. There were two basins of washed vegetables by the stove and a few live rabbits in the house. Naturally, he assumed they were meant to be dinner.

He paused for a moment, puzzled as to why the villagers hadn’t already butchered them, but quickly shrugged it off. He grabbed a knife, heated oil in the pan, and cooked up a big plate of spicy diced rabbit.

By the time Tan Qing returned, dinner was just ready. Everyone sat down to eat, quietly wondering if Fu Rong might have poisoned the food. Koty, spotting a plate of greens, suddenly remembered the rabbits hadn’t been fed. He went inside to check, then came back looking confused. “Did any of you see where the rabbits went?”

Fu Rong answered casually, “In your bowl.”

That night, Koty had a nightmare.

Zhu Lianzhen was very displeased with Fu Rong. How could he butcher the rabbits without saying a word? Even though the dish was undeniably delicious, Zhu Lianzhen protested with heart-wrenching logic, “I gave them names!”

Naming them had felt like forming an emotional bond. They weren’t just animals anymore.

But Fu Rong’s logic was even more blunt and effective. “Who cares about you.”

Ji Yunting tried to comfort him. “Let it go. I’ll let you eat a few extra bites.”

The next day, Zhu Lianzhen was once again the last to wake. He stepped into the sun to brush his teeth and wash his face, and just happened to run into Tan Qing returning from outside, carrying a cage with a rabbit inside.

“It’s a new one,” Tan Qing said simply, watching Zhu Lianzhen with an unreadable expression. “Want to give it a name?”

Zhu Lianzhen stepped closer.

That rabbit became the highlight of his entire training vacation. But not confident in his ability to care for it properly at home, he gave it to the family who had hosted them.

Later, when the sun was high in the sky, Zhu Lianzhen was in the courtyard, spraying away fallen leaves with a hose. Once the yard was clean, he didn’t turn off the faucet. Instead, he raised the hose toward the sunlight.

The stream arched high, and he carefully adjusted the angle until suddenly his eyes lit up. He glanced around quickly and spotted Tan Qing as the only one nearby.

“Tan Qing! Come here, come here!”

Tan Qing was washing a basin of freshly picked apples. Hearing his name, he shook the water off his hands and walked over.

“Stand next to me.” Zhu Lianzhen was unable to hide the excitement in his voice. “Look up!”

Tan Qing tilted his head as instructed. At first, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at, but then, in an instant, he understood why Zhu Lianzhen’s face was glowing with joy.

A rainbow.

The splashing water quickly soaked them both, but Zhu Lianzhen didn’t care at all. Happily, he shoved the hose into Tan Qing’s hands. “Hold this for me. I’m gonna get the others!”

But just as he turned to leave, Tan Qing suddenly grabbed his wrist tightly.

“Hm?” Zhu Lianzhen turned back, his eyes silently asking what was going on.

Tan Qing stared at him steadily, lips pressed together in silence. He didn’t let go, but his grip softened noticeably.

Zhu Lianzhen made another questioning sound. “Hm? What’s wrong?”

“Can’t it be just me?” Tan Qing said.

Zhu Lianzhen didn’t quite get it. “Aren’t you holding it? Watch all you want.”

“Can you not call the others?”

Zhu Lianzhen paused. So Tan Qing found those guys annoying too? That, he could understand.

“Alright.” He nodded. “I won’t call them.”

…

That unexpected memory made Zhu Lianzhen zone out for a moment.

So strange.

Whether it was buying him a new rabbit after the old ones were gone, or not wanting anyone else to see a simple rainbow, Tan Qing’s reactions, in retrospect, struck Zhu Lianzhen as… really strange.

So many years had passed, and the memories had long since gone blurry. Even if he tried to think harder, no new clues came to mind.

“You’re spacing out and slacking again.” Koty nudged him with an elbow.

Zhu Lianzhen snapped out of it and put down the crab in his hand. With a shameless tone, he said, “I’m done peeling. I’m tired! I officially declare I’m off work!”

It was getting dark, so they turned on the lights.

Tan Qing mixed the crab meat everyone had peeled with seasonings and wrapped five zongzi, tossing them into boiling water. He started another pot to cook the oysters Koty had gathered from the shore that afternoon.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” Zhu Lianzhen stood up and headed to the bathroom alone.

The hot water setup looked like a massive stove. Zhu Lianzhen crouched down, adding fuel to it continuously. Once the water was ready, he connected it to the pump and showerhead and began washing.

The moment the water hit his skin, Zhu Lianzhen yelped from the heat. Then he stood idly, waiting for the temperature to drop. Quite a bit of time passed, and he figured the others were probably almost done with dinner by now.

Good thing he wasn’t hungry anyway. For some reason, he had no appetite tonight. He just wanted a quiet moment to himself.

The clothes he’d changed into were thin, and his body wasn’t used to the temperature drop. The moment he stepped outside, the chill hit hard. He considered making a quick dash back to the others. But as he closed the bathroom door, he noticed his jacket hanging on the handle.

He didn’t know when someone had put it there, but he didn’t need to think hard to figure out who it was.

Zhu Lianzhen put it on and slowly walked back.

They’d saved him a portion of dinner, but he shook his head, showing no intention of eating, and went straight into the tent to lie down.

The others were chatting enthusiastically outside, and Zhu Lianzhen vaguely heard his name mentioned a few times. He immediately sat up, poked his head out of the tent, and shouted, “What are you saying! Talking bad about me behind my back?”

Koty turned around to look at him. “If we were talking bad about you, we’d do it to your face. Why would we bother going behind your back?”

“So you’re secretly praising me? That’s even grosser.”

“We were testing Koty’s Chinese,” Ji Yunting explained, “and we realized that most of the weird words he uses came from you.”

Zhu Lianzhen stepped out of the tent. “Oh, please. He’s just shifting the blame. When he first came to China, we weren’t even close. He was in the high school division, and I was still in middle school.”

Though Koty was fluent in Chinese now, he had definitely gone through a phase of speaking complete nonsense as a beginner. The most unforgettable moment for Zhu Lianzhen was when the school selected Koty to give a speech as the international department’s representative for the school anniversary.

Koty had done plenty of rap battles back in Germany, so he wasn’t afraid of the stage. But giving a formal speech in Chinese in a foreign land made him nervous, and it was inevitable that he’d mess up word order, pronunciation, and vocabulary. The speech was about aspects of Chinese culture he admired, and he opened with a passionate line, “On my first day in China, I was captivated by these lion monsters on the street, like two lions with ball gags[mfn]

He means the stone balls in the statue’s mouth, but the word he used here means “ball gag,” which is used in BDSM.[/mfn] in their mouths.”

The audience was stunned into silence.

He went on to say that the most romantic part of Chinese culture was its mythology, citing the story of “the widow chasing the sun”[mfn]He makes a mistake here too. 寡妇追日(widow chasing the sun) should be 夸父追日(Kuafu chasing the sun)

寡妇(guǎ fu) means “widow”, while 夸父(kuā fù) is the legendary giant who chased the sun in Chinese mythology.[/mfn] as an example, which represented human persistence and determination. The Chinese teacher in the audience wore a pained expression, silently praying not to be named or thanked in the closing.

Unfortunately, Koty was the kind of kid who never forgot to express gratitude. “The reason I can stand here and speak today is thanks to the spankings[mfn]He used 皮痒(pí yǎng) but meant 培养(péi yǎng, meaning “to teach/cultivate”)[/mfn] of all my teachers. And I also want to thank my first Chinese friend. He’s from our school’s middle school division: Zhu Lianzhen!”

In the crowd, Zhu Lianzhen yanked up the collar of his uniform at lightning speed to hide his face.

Despite the string of shocking remarks in front of the entire school, most people just laughed and forgot about them. What really drew attention to Koty was his face. After enrolling, he dyed his hair black to tone down his mixed-race features. Unexpectedly, this only made him look even more handsome in a sharp, dangerous way, making him impossible to ignore wherever he went.

“What a shame,” Koty sighed as he reminisced about their youth. “Ever since Kissy transferred in, most of my popularity in the high school division vanished overnight.”

Ji Yunting: “I’ve noticed you never call Tan Qing by his real name.”

“His name’s a tongue-twister,” Koty replied. “Besides, his nickname is cute.”

Ji Yunting glanced at Zhu Lianzhen, suddenly remembering something. “Hey, I remember at first you and Tan Qing didn’t get along at all. How’d you two end up getting so close?”

Zhu Lianzhen really wanted to shoot him a warning glance to shut up, but Ji Yunting was the worst in the group at reading the room. He just kept going. “When Tan Qing first joined, Zhu Lianzhen had so much to say about him. He used to complain to me every day.”

Zhu Lianzhen coughed loudly. “You’re exaggerating. I just wasn’t familiar with him back then… and besides, you used to—”

He tried to change the subject quickly, but Tan Qing cut in before he could.

“Oh? What did Xiao Zhu used to say about me?”

He wore an expression of great interest, as if he were simply curious.

Ji Yunting had a sharp memory, and the moment Tan Qing asked, he immediately began recalling the details. “His thoughts were super easy to read. Basically, he thought you were fake and said you were trying too hard to get close to everyone. He was annoyed you hadn’t done proper training before joining, and felt like it delayed the group’s debut.”

Koty chimed in, “But I remember Zhu Lianzhen spent a lot of time teaching Tan Qing how to dance. Am I remembering that wrong?”

They were chatting without restraint, while Zhu Lianzhen sat there stewing in frustration. He seriously wanted to tape their mouths shut—Tan Qing isn’t like the rest of you! I really don’t want him finding out what I said behind his back!

“Xiao Zhu just knew how to separate work from personal feelings,” Tan Qing said with a smile, turning to look at Zhu Lianzhen. “Even if he didn’t like me, he still helped me catch up for the sake of the team. Thanks to him, I improved quickly back then.”

“You’re too polite,” Zhu Lianzhen replied stiffly.

Ji Yunting said to Tan Qing, “It’s because you’ve got a good temper. If it were anyone else, they’d have clashed with him for sure.”

“To make it in this industry, you’ve gotta deal with all kinds of people. Maybe he developed a good temper from being worn down by the idiots around him,” Koty mused. “I think I’ve got a pretty good temper too, but there aren’t really any idiots around me.”

Fu Rong, who had been silent for a while, finally spoke. “You were the one who wore him down.”

It wasn’t until the conversation moved on to another topic that Zhu Lianzhen finally relaxed. But Ji Yunting’s earlier question lingered in his mind.

Right… how had their relationship improved later on? How did I go from finding Tan Qing annoying to treating him like a friend?

As far as he could remember, there had been no dramatic turning point. His feelings had simply shifted over time. Aside from discovering Tan Qing’s talent and drive, there might have been another reason behind the change.

Tan Qing had never once argued with him.

Even back then, Tan Qing didn’t seem to care what Zhu Lianzhen thought of him. While Zhu Lianzhen was still slow to catch on, Tan Qing quietly listened to his trivial complaints and tolerated his immature temper. So the moment Zhu Lianzhen was ready to move closer, their relationship naturally began to thaw.

Zhu Lianzhen had assumed that was simply how Tan Qing was—a unique trait that set him apart from others.

To this day, he had never questioned whether Tan Qing behaved that way with everyone, or if he had been that way only with him from the beginning.

Zhu Lianzhen found the latter idea a little ridiculous. After all, they’d already been through a breakup and a reunion. And yet here he was, getting sentimental over how they first met.

Later that night, the campfire burned out.

Zhu Lianzhen lay back in the tent. He’d taken a nap that afternoon, so he was wide awake now. However, the others were all exhausted, and no one was up to keep him company.

His thoughts wandered to their upcoming comeback concert.

According to tradition, they held a nationwide tour every two years on their debut anniversary, usually consisting of three or four shows. With only half a year left, it was time to start working on new songs. Their schedule showed no group activities from October onward, which the company had likely reserved for training.

But if any of the members had conflicting personal schedules, it would inevitably cut into their practice time. This didn’t just involve the five of them, but also hundreds of staff and backup dancers. They’d faced similar issues in the past, but back then, everyone had been at the peak of their drive to perform. They were used to going with the flow, and if something went wrong, they just improvised.

This time, though, it was Acemon’s first concert in two years. That made it special. Zhu Lianzhen wanted to give their fans the best possible experience.

Then he remembered the dating show Qiu Hao had mentioned.

HTV was one of the most influential networks for variety shows. Zhu Lianzhen already found acting in idol dramas intimidating, especially having to read lines from a script, let alone participating in a show like this, which blurred the line between reality and fiction. That was way outside his comfort zone. The opportunity was a good one, but he didn’t care for it. Someone like Tan Qing, a trained actor, was a much better fit.

After the show aired, a prolonged period of public engagement was inevitable. Fan wars between different CP shippers were practically guaranteed, and the company certainly wouldn’t miss the chance to capitalize on the buzz. Idols like them were used to being in the middle of all that, but Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t help worrying that the female guest might become a target of hate.

He wasn’t even sure if the “QingZhen” ship could use this show as a way to quietly fade out. Probably not… The illusion between them was already paper-thin, easily broken, and nearly impossible to maintain.

Zhu Lianzhen was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice Tan Qing had been silently watching him the entire time. It wasn’t until he turned his head and saw those eyes glinting faintly in the dark that his heart skipped a beat in surprise.

The guy was clearly awake, just lying there without saying a word. Zhu Lianzhen had the sudden urge to punch him.

Not wanting to make noise and risk waking the others, and unable to rely on facial expressions in the pitch-black tent, he reached out and tapped Tan Qing’s palm twice.

That meant: I need to talk to you. Come over here.

Zhu Lianzhen was sure Tan Qing would get it. But instead of responding, Tan Qing curled his fingers to avoid the touch, then gently pushed his hand away and whispered with a smile, “That tickles.”

Seeing him tease again, Zhu Lianzhen grabbed his hand directly and gave it a hard pinch. “Come here.”

Tan Qing followed his cue and leaned in, nearly touching his pillow. Zhu Lianzhen scooted back a little and, in a voice only the two of them could hear, said, “Don’t take that show either.”

“Hm?”

“The one Director Qiu mentioned.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted me to go in your place?”

Zhu Lianzhen spoke slowly, so Tan Qing could hear him clearly. “We won’t have much free time later this year. Did you forget we still have the concert?”

“It won’t be an issue,” Tan Qing replied. “My schedule is already pretty light this year.”

“And you’re not going to rest at all?” Zhu Lianzhen’s tone grew a bit sharper.

“We’ll see when the time comes,” Tan Qing said softly. “You change your mind so fast—maybe tomorrow you’ll have some new request for me.”

Zhu Lianzhen had no response to that. Just then, he heard a faint sound beside him, and Tan Qing reached out and pinched his burning ear. Zhu Lianzhen didn’t dodge, staring directly in Tan Qing’s direction. The pad of Tan Qing’s finger slowly traced the curve of his ear, then moved lower, pressing lightly on the hollow behind his earlobe.

“It tickles… stop.” Zhu Lianzhen finally shook his head.

In the darkness where nothing could be seen, Tan Qing whispered with certainty, “You’re really warm.”

Zhu Lianzhen denied it. “No, I’m cold.”

“Your face feels hot. Are you feeling sick?”

Zhu Lianzhen pursed his lips in the dark. Since their teammates were asleep, he didn’t dare respond to Tan Qing out loud, so he simply reached out, grabbed Tan Qing’s wrist, and pulled his hand over, pressing it against his own cheek.

He wanted Tan Qing to feel it for himself—What’s hot? What’s hot, huh!

“Burning,” Tan Qing said with a laugh, deliberately pulling his hand back.

Zhu Lianzhen shoved his arm away, but it felt like Tan Qing had brought his whole body closer.

Zhu Lianzhen’s chest tightened.

He felt like Tan Qing was silently laughing at how nervous he was. The breath that brushed past his ear was warm and faintly ticklish.

“Just saying goodnight,” Tan Qing whispered in his ear, then pulled back again.

Zhu Lianzhen instinctively shrank his neck, but the lingering warmth on his skin only deepened.

His heart was beating way too fast. He didn’t know whether it was because he was nervous about Tan Qing getting so close, or…

Or because he had misread the moment and almost thought there was going to be a kiss.

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