After all, they had truly reached the age where doing bad things no longer left them with a guilty conscience. Dragging things out in ambiguity actually made it easier to face their own desires with clarity.
Morning light broke through the windows, filling the room with brightness.
Behind the door, the atmosphere wasn’t heated or hurried, only the sound of suppressed breathing rising and falling slowly. Zhu Lianzhen’s back pressed tightly against the door, and when the cool surface touched his neck, he flinched. Tan Qing immediately raised a hand to support the back of his head, both shielding him and making it easier to deepen the kiss.
Zhu Lianzhen tilted his head slightly. Throughout the lingering entanglement, there were moments when he wanted to respond, but whether they weren’t in sync or Tan Qing was deliberately throwing things off, the rhythm always slipped. Every time he tried to ask for more, Tan Qing would stop just short, leaving him aching with desire. Or, he would catch Zhu Lianzhen off guard and suddenly push deeper, making it hard for him to breathe.
Just as he reached the edge of oxygen deprivation, Zhu Lianzhen finally gathered his strength to let out a muffled groan and pushed against Tan Qing’s shoulder. The moment their lips and tongues parted, he gasped like someone coming up for air after nearly drowning, an unsteady moan slipping from his throat. When he heard it, he froze, wondering if he’d imagined it.
He had, after all, trained in dance for years. Controlling his breath should be second nature by now. It couldn’t be that just a kiss… just a very long kiss could leave him so undone, right? It made no sense!
Trying to steady his breath, he stole a quick glance at the culprit’s face and saw that Tan Qing’s breath seemed a little rushed too, which made him feel slightly better.
Zhu Lianzhen pressed his lips together, walked over to the table, and poured himself some water to soothe his throat.
The cold water helped clear his heated mind. Then he suddenly remembered something important. “Isn’t the soundproofing in this hotel kind of bad? I remember last night I could hear Koty watching videos on his phone.”
Tan Qing took the glass of water Zhu Lianzhen had just poured and took a sip, replying quietly, “It’s late. He should be asleep after taking his medicine.”
Zhu Lianzhen: “That fast? Didn’t he say his room felt weird and he couldn’t sleep at all?”
Tan Qing lowered his lashes. “The medicine I bought him has drowsiness as a side effect. It’s fine.”
“?”
Meeting Zhu Lianzhen’s surprised look, Tan Qing returned a calm, sincere gaze. “I just wanted him to get some rest sooner so he can recover faster. What’s wrong with that?”
Zhu Lianzhen: “…Nothing. Good job.”
The room finally quieted down. Zhu Lianzhen’s breathing returned to normal, and he realized he was much calmer than he’d expected. He even had the illusion that they were still back in the same place as two years ago.
“Are we still going up the mountain today?” Tan Qing asked.
“Let’s not.” Zhu Lianzhen raised his arms and stretched. He was a little sore, probably from how tense his muscles had been yesterday. “It’s pure torture. Might as well just lie around at home. I’ll still be terrified when we go bungee jumping anyway.”
Tan Qing blinked. “No one ever said we were going bungee jumping.”
Zhu Lianzhen tilted his head and stared at his face. “Really? You didn’t say it?”
“I didn’t.” Tan Qing gestured for him to check the chat history in the work group again. “All I said was we might go to Macau.”
And then Zhu Lianzhen had gone on to deduce bungee jumping in Macau all on his own, and with lightning-fast initiative, dragged their two teammates along for desensitization training.
Zhu Lianzhen lowered his arms, eyes wide, face tilted up as he stared at him. “Then why didn’t you stop me earlier?”
“Weren’t you the one who said, as a grown man—” Tan Qing paused to recall, then quoted his original words, “you should challenge yourself with more things you haven’t tried before, things that are difficult.”
…Fair enough.
Zhu Lianzhen didn’t regret it either. In the end, he got to spend time with Tan Qing—where they went or what they did didn’t really matter.
He turned around and took another sip of water, then suddenly suggested, “So, want to take another walk?”
In a small, unfamiliar city, all they could do was wander around aimlessly. After walking for a while, Zhu Lianzhen suddenly realized that this kind of purposeless strolling had become incredibly rare for them.
The corner of his mouth curled slightly without him noticing. So it turned out Tan Qing had foreseen this all along.
When Tan Qing noticed him walking while lost in thought, his steps gradually drifting off-course, he calmly reached out and pulled him back to his side.
His hand let go quickly, so Zhu Lianzhen didn’t even have time to glance down.
The two of them wandered around until evening without feeling tired at all. It was probably the most relaxed day they had spent together since reuniting at the beginning of the year.
They didn’t mention the secret relationship from two years ago, or the cold war and silence that followed. It was as if they were just two teammates toeing the line of flirtation, not caring where it might lead and not asking for anything more.
The next day, Koty’s fever subsided, and he was back to his energetic, annoying self. The three of them flew back to Ronggang.
As soon as they entered the dorm, they were hit with the smell of something burnt to a crisp, followed by the sound of clattering from the kitchen. Ji Yunting was wielding a spatula, prying charred remains from a non-stick pan, and tossing them into the trash. He turned around and greeted them, “I’m cooking today. Just tell me what you want to eat.”
Zhu Lianzhen: “Let’s order takeout.”
Ji Yunting: “I said I’m cooking! Put your phone down.”
Ji Yunting was lazy to the core. Just handling his role as the team leader was already a life-draining burden, so this sudden kindness in offering to cook could only mean he was up to something.
Sure enough, while scrubbing the pan with great effort, Ji Yunting tilted his head and explained that it was all preparation for going on the dating show. There would definitely be a segment where he had to cook. He couldn’t just leave everything to the female guests, so he had to start early to build his image as a gentle, homey boyfriend.
He had spent the past couple of days holed up in the kitchen experimenting with recipes, annoying Fu Rong so much that he kept rolling his eyes. Now that Tan Qing was finally back, he was eager to ask him for some guidance.
Zhu Lianzhen shook his head at Tan Qing. “Ignore him. Go rest.”
Tan Qing didn’t say anything. He noticed a plate of stir-fried shrimp on the counter, picked up a piece, and put it in his mouth. After just two chews, he stopped. His expression remained calm, and perhaps out of politeness, he didn’t spit it out but swallowed it directly.
Then he let out a faint sigh and walked over to wash his hands beside Ji Yunting. “I’ll teach you.”
Zhu Lianzhen leaned against the kitchen doorway, cradling Naisi, who’d become extra clingy after a few days apart. He watched like someone enjoying the show as Tan Qing patiently guided Ji Yunting through chopping vegetables and explained the uses of different seasonings.
Gradually, his gaze stayed fixed on Tan Qing.
He became aware of a very clear truth: everyone relied on Tan Qing.
Whether it was teammates or staff, people always placed extra trust in Tan Qing. Probably because he always handled things with focus and precision, never letting situations spiral out of control, always considerate of everyone’s feelings.
But what if Tan Qing made mistakes too? The thought suddenly crossed Zhu Lianzhen’s mind.
What if Tan Qing also lost control, acted selfishly, if he ever took off that mask of perfection others had defined for him… would people still trust him?
And someone like that—who would Tan Qing rely on?
Zhu Lianzhen’s heart suddenly jolted.
He realized that, at that moment, he wasn’t just thinking on Tan Qing’s behalf, but also standing with him, trying to feel what he might feel.
“We’re about to fry chili peppers. It’ll be smoky,” Tan Qing said, turning his head toward him.
“Oh.” Zhu Lianzhen walked off with Naisi. Not long after, he looked back and saw Ji Yunting had followed them out too. He frowned. “Why are you out here? Weren’t you learning how to cook?”
“Didn’t Tan Qing just say it’s smoky?” Ji Yunting replied, sounding totally justified.
Ji Yunting hadn’t done the work, but he had no problem taking a break. Sitting on the sofa, something occurred to him, and he turned to say, “Hey, we’re going to Macau next week to meet the producer for the new album. If any of your passes have expired, make sure you renew them in time.”
Zhu Lianzhen raised his brows. “So we’re not going there for a variety show? You couldn’t have told us that earlier?”
Ji Yunting didn’t care. “I forgot. I’ve been too focused on thinking about my dating show.”
Zhu Lianzhen: “You’ve never had a smooth love life in your entire life. Just enjoy the fake couple act on the show for what it is and don’t get yourself fooled into actually falling for it.”
Zhu Lianzhen did some digging and found out that the producer the company had invited, Sui An, was quite a big name. He had lived in Taiwan for decades, and almost every song he had produced during that time had become widely popular. He had also worked with several major mainland artists. In recent years, he seemed to be semi-retired, living in Macau and rarely releasing new work.
Managing to secure a chance to collaborate with Sui-laoshi was no easy feat, which was why the five of them were expected to go in person and show their sincerity.
In mid-May, they arrived as scheduled at Macau International Airport.
Sui An’s studio had sent two cars to pick them up. The journey went smoothly without delays, and soon they met the renowned producer in person. He looked even more weathered than in his online photos. His shoulder-length hair was tied back, his beard was neatly groomed, and his artistic aura spoke for itself.
After a few polite exchanges, Sui An asked his assistant to wheel in a food cart filled with specialty dishes freshly bought from the restaurant downstairs, inviting them to sit down and eat.
They were too intimidated to eat in the presence of such a prominent figure. Though they all thanked him, none of them touched their food. Sui An smiled and handed them cups. “Let’s chat while we eat. No need to be nervous. You’ve flown a long way and must be tired.”
Eating while talking indeed helped close the distance between them. Sui-laoshi treated them kindly, and by the end of the meal, the atmosphere in the room had become much more relaxed.
Once the table was cleared, Sui-laoshi opened a prepared document on his computer. “Your company showed me each of your profiles. Seems like you all used to be quite the bad boys.”
Spoken in a teasing tone with his soft Taiwanese accent, the comment somehow felt even more embarrassing. Ji Yunting quickly replied, “We were young and immature back then, and had quite the temper.”
“I really like your songs, especially these ones. The style feels ahead of its time.” Sui An had a pile of Acemon albums next to him. “I heard most of the tracks were self-written. That’s impressive. Not many young artists these days have both taste and sensitivity.”
His praise left them a little flustered, but before they could respond with modest gratitude, Sui An continued, “The lead singer went solo, didn’t he? His tone and singing style were quite unique. Did he leave because of personality clashes, or was he chasing a bigger goal?”
There was a hint of regret in his tone that couldn’t be missed. The group, sitting across from him, had to guess what he really meant. Was he admiring the one who left, or expressing sympathy for those who stayed?
Tan Qing offered a polite smile. “He definitely had a distinctive style and a strong personality. Unfortunately, being in a group limited those strengths a bit. And to be honest, none of us are particularly good at accommodating others.”
He leaned forward slightly, a trace of respect in his eyes. “Although losing a member was a considerable blow to the group, we happened to be at a turning point anyway. And fortunately, with you leading the project, we really have nothing to worry about.”
Sui An looked at him and smiled. “Don’t worry. With such great potential, of course I’ll help you bring out the best in what you’ve got.”
Over the remainder of the meeting, Sui An spoke with each of them in more detail to get a better sense of their personalities. Then he brought them into the recording studio for vocal warm-ups and gave them a demo track to work with.
They might not have the same vocal range or piercing high notes as their former lead singer Fan Gerong, but each of their voices was undeniably one in a million.
Zhu Lianzhen was the last to finish singing. Sui-laoshi didn’t ask him to leave right away but instead requested that he sing the same part again, this time with a lower pitch. Zhu Lianzhen complied and asked before he began, “Is this low enough?”
Unexpectedly, Sui An replied, “Yes. Just sing it using what you think is your sexiest voice.”
“?” Zhu Lianzhen froze for a moment. “Huh? I… I haven’t really thought about…”
He did understand what Sui-laoshi meant. After all, the demo had a slightly disoriented and sensual tone from the melody to the lyrics, requiring the singer to adjust their vocal delivery accordingly. But to be directly told to use the voice he personally found “the sexiest”? That was far too embarrassing! His teammates were all listening from outside!
Seeing how flustered and unsure he was, Sui An couldn’t help but laugh. He had no intention of making things difficult for the young man. “Alright, let’s leave it for now. The version you just did was already very good.”
He took off his headphones and nodded at Zhu Lianzhen through the glass, signaling that he could come out.
Sui An said, “I’ve already discussed it with your company and confirmed the general direction for the new album. Compared to your past work, the difference won’t be huge, but this time, we do want to showcase more of your mature side.”
Zhu Lianzhen felt that when Sui-laoshi said “mature,” he had chosen a sort of toned-down substitute. With just a bit of thought, it was obvious he actually meant something more like “sexy.”
But that wasn’t surprising. Acemon had debuted nearly eight years ago and only recently emerged from a two-year hiatus. It was time for them to evolve past their previous rebellious, cocky image.
Still, Zhu Lianzhen didn’t feel like he was at the stage in life where he should be transitioning from youth into manhood. Additionally, his appearance developed more slowly than that of others. He was about to graduate from university and still looked delicate like a high schooler. No matter how you put it, he wasn’t suited to deliberately portraying a “mature” vibe.
“Shall we wrap it up for today?” Sui An asked. “You’ve all worked hard. Enjoy your time in Macau.”
After leaving Sui-laoshi’s studio, Koty slung an arm over Zhu Lianzhen’s shoulder. “Let’s go bungee jumping.”
“Get lost.” Zhu Lianzhen shoved him off.
The assistant led them to the hotel. Fu Rong was given a small room to himself, while the rest shared rooms, two to a room.
“I’m rooming with the leader!” Koty volunteered. When no one was looking, he turned his back toward the others and patted Zhu Lianzhen’s shoulder with a meaningful look.
Zhu Lianzhen: “?”
From Koty’s evasive yet encouraging expression, he read a message loud and clear: Have a proper conversation. Say what needs to be said. Don’t hurt his feelings.
…This idiot was still hung up on that matter.
Their trip was short, so no one brought much luggage. After entering the room, there was no need to unpack. Zhu Lianzhen went into the bathroom to wash his hands. But after washing, he didn’t leave. He stayed where he was, staring at himself in the mirror.
Tan Qing called to him from outside, “Xiao Zhu, come out, it’s time for the livestream.”
“Oh!” Zhu Lianzhen dried his hands. He suddenly remembered that before they left this morning, Pei Qiao had solemnly warned them not to visit any casinos. If they had nothing to do, they were to go live and engage with fans.
When Zhu Lianzhen came out, he saw that Tan Qing had already set up his phone on the table for him. He sat down and, seeing Tan Qing standing far away, asked, “You’re not joining me?”
Tan Qing looked out at the night view and tilted his head. “Do you want the fans to know we’re sleeping in the same room?”
Zhu Lianzhen parted his lips but stayed silent. Without a word, he logged onto the official site and turned on the front-facing camera.
In less than ten seconds, a flood of comments filled the livestream chat.
[Baby, good evening! You arrived in Macau safely, right? Have you had anything tasty yet?]
[My oxygen, my vitamin, my precious gem, my ice cream—I miss you, I miss you, I miss you!!!]
[Lianlian~ The weather’s getting hotter lately, don’t blast the AC too much and catch a cold]
…
Zhu Lianzhen’s lips curved upward as he patiently responded to comments and chatted with fans. “Mm, I’m in Macau for work. The details are a secret for now, but you’ll all get a nice surprise later.”
“Nope, no filter. It’s just the hotel lights are really bright… What do you mean I look too pale? This is just my natural skin tone.”
“Maybe it’s because blond hair makes me look even fairer.” Zhu Lianzhen looked up and ran a hand through his hair. The strands over his forehead had grown just long enough to brush his eyelashes. It wasn’t bothersome, so he hadn’t paid it much attention. “It’s true I need a touch-up. What color do you guys think would be good? Something I haven’t dyed before.”
Tan Qing was sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window, listening to music. One earbud was out, and he turned his face toward Zhu Lianzhen, eyes settling briefly on his light blond hair.
Black was the most suggested option in the chat. Zhu Lianzhen rested his chin on his hand, deep in thought. “I don’t even remember the last time I had black hair. Let me ask…”
He naturally looked toward Tan Qing, but the moment their eyes met, his words abruptly stopped. He forcibly swallowed the original sentence, “ask Tan Qing.”
Zhu Lianzhen quickly looked back at the camera.
That was close. He’d almost let it slip that Tan Qing was in the room too.
“I’ll ask the company. Maybe I’ll actually get the chance to dye it black again soon.” Zhu Lianzhen gave a seemingly cheerful smile.
The fans didn’t notice anything unusual and kept chatting, asking questions, and confessing their love.
Their favorite game to play with Zhu Lianzhen was “multiple-choice questions,” for example, asking him: “If you could grow five centimeters taller, but your IQ would permanently drop by twenty points, would you do it?”
“If you could gain immortality, but from then on you’d be completely invisible, would you want it?”
Zhu Lianzhen sighed helplessly, “What kind of questions are these?” but still obediently read the comments out loud and answered them.
While he chatted, Tan Qing had already taken off his earphones and wandered over to the table, bending down to plug in the phone charger. He moved almost without sound, even the way he picked up the charging cable was so light it didn’t make a single noise that could be picked up on the livestream.
Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t help sneaking a few glances at him, absent-mindedly continuing to read out fan questions, “Have someone who loves and understands you completely, but your career will decline from then on; or achieve fame and success at a young age, but never be able to fall in love again. Which would you choose?”
Just as he finished the question, Tan Qing happened to straighten up after putting down the phone, standing directly across from him.
Zhu Lianzhen still wore a smile on his face, but his eyes had frozen. He struggled to keep his gaze from drifting upward.
The fans were waiting for his answer, and it was only then that he realized they were really just trying to subtly test whether he, as an idol, could give an appropriate response.
They just wanted to be coaxed by him. If he cracked a harmless joke, no one would cling to such a dramatic question.
But—
Tan Qing was still here.
Right behind his phone, just one table’s length away.
At this moment, Tan Qing leaned in closer, hands braced on the table, head tilted down as he studied Zhu Lianzhen, seemingly out of curiosity, watching to see how he would answer.
Zhu Lianzhen felt like an invisible shadow from Tan Qing was completely engulfing him. He couldn’t tell what kind of expression Tan Qing wore and didn’t dare lift his eyes to find out.
After a short pause, Zhu Lianzhen gave the camera a dazzling smile, lifting his eyebrows, and spoke in a light tone, “Come on, can’t you guys just hope I get the best of both worlds? Why give me such depressing choices?”
He turned it into a joke and, using the excuse of adjusting his hair, let his eyes flick toward Tan Qing. But Tan Qing turned his head away half a second earlier and walked off.
Zhu Lianzhen’s smile faded slightly. He had a feeling Tan Qing was upset. Whether it was real or just an act, he was clearly showing it and made sure he noticed.
…So now, after coaxing the fans, he had to coax his ex-boyfriend too? Did it really have to be this troublesome?
Realizing the livestream was still going, Zhu Lianzhen quickly pulled his lips back into a smile, lightly bit his lip, and offered a vague follow-up to that extreme question about love versus success—
“I choose love.”[mfn]He is saying, “I choose Tan Qing.” Tan Qing’s name is used in the idiom 谈情说爱, which appeared in the question. It means to date/fall in love.[/mfn]