June in Macau was the rainiest time of the year. The rain came and went, the weather shifting between cloudy and clear.
Half-asleep, Zhu Lianzhen heard a knock on the door. He didn’t respond, and soon heard someone speaking in a low voice at the door. No more than four or five sentences were exchanged before the door closed again.
He vaguely remembered that Tan Qing was also in the room, so he felt reassured and went back to sleep.
After an unknown amount of time, Tan Qing called him to wake up. Zhu Lianzhen pretended not to hear until Tan Qing said, “Sui-laoshi is already waiting for us in the studio.” He shot upright in bed.
His eyes were still heavy with sleep, but he scrambled out of bed to wash up, afraid of wasting the producer’s valuable time.
After he quickly got ready, Tan Qing handed him a paper bag. Inside were a sandwich and a cup of warm coffee, clearly bought from outside. Thinking of the noise he heard earlier, Zhu Lianzhen asked, “Did someone come by?”
“Mm. The leader came to call us for breakfast. I didn’t wake you since you were still sleeping.”
Zhu Lianzhen quickly finished eating and followed him to Sui An’s studio.
Yesterday’s sound test had been just to get familiar with their vocal tones. Today, Sui-laoshi wanted to understand each of their vocal ranges. With years of experience in the industry, he also shared many little-known vocal techniques with them, from which they greatly benefited.
Before they left, Sui An specifically called out to Zhu Lianzhen and said, “Your voice is very clean and bright, and it carries a strong presence. But next time, try lowering the key a little. I believe you have the ability to create an entirely different vocal quality.”
Zhu Lianzhen sincerely thanked him.
As soon as their return flight landed, a sudden downpour began outside.
Schedules of popular celebrities were often leaked, and fans waiting to greet them had already packed every entrance of the airport. As soon as the members stepped into the terminal hall, a swarm of fans with “long-lens cannons” surged forward, frantically clicking their shutters.
Security staff moved efficiently along both sides, giving instructions and clearing a path.
Zhu Lianzhen walked at the rear, tightly protected by staff as they moved him forward. The crowd was overwhelming. No matter how steady his footing, he still nearly lost his balance after just a few steps. At that moment, he heard the clear sound of something falling near his feet. Looking down, he saw a phone on the ground. Without thinking, he bent over to pick it up—a move that nearly got him pushed into a dangerous position.
As soon as he handed the phone back, security immediately closed in around him. Zhu Lianzhen realized he’d fallen behind and quickly sped up. Just as he was looking down at the ground, a hand suddenly appeared in his line of sight. He looked up and met Tan Qing’s eyes from under the brim of his cap.
Without a word, Tan Qing grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward, preventing him from getting separated again.
Once they got out of the terminal and into the car, finally escaping the crowd, they took off their masks and took deep breaths, making sure none of their belongings had been lost.
“Why didn’t we use the VIP exit? What if there’s a stampede with so many people crowding around?” Zhu Lianzhen asked.
One of the accompanying staff replied, “Fans were already waiting since early morning. If we ditch them after they’ve waited this long, there’s bound to be drama online when they go back.”
Flight information for celebrities was always something that could be sold privately for a set price, especially when the schedule was public. Even if staff informed fan sites in advance not to show up at the airport, many fans still came early to wait.
“Getting good photos is also a way to attract more fans,” the staff added.
It wasn’t like they were there to do a runway show.
Zhu Lianzhen curled his lip in annoyance and didn’t bother to keep arguing.
After returning to the dorm, he took a quick shower. He only wiped the water from his hair and let it air-dry naturally.
He hadn’t had much time to explore Macau, so he picked up a few nicely packaged items on impulse. Among them was a Hogwarts-themed board game, which he took to the living room to play with Ji Yunting and the others.
None of them fully understood the instructions, so they just messed around. The game rules required players to increase their house points, but Zhu Lianzhen was only focused on figuring out how to time travel and strangle baby Voldemort. Koty had a simpler goal: after analyzing all the available options, he just wanted to sneak into Fu Rong’s dormitory.
Unfortunately, even when he succeeded in that mission, he couldn’t make any further progress with Fu Rong. Every time, Fu Rong would calmly pull out his saved spell cards and hit Koty with a sequence of blazing fire, a full-body bind, and finally an Avada Kedavra to finish him off.
With the three of them causing chaos, Ji Yunting had no chance of winning the House Cup, no matter how properly he rolled the dice and followed the story. He ended up forming an alliance with Fu Rong. Every time Koty tried to act out of line, Ji Yunting would hit him with a disarming charm before Fu Rong even had the chance.
Koty righteously defended himself, “I didn’t even bring my wand!”
Ji Yunting glanced at the space between Koty’s legs and said, “I was disarming the other one.”
Koty: “?”
Ji Yunting turned to Zhu Lianzhen. “Isn’t Tan Qing coming to play?”
“He’s watching a movie,” Zhu Lianzhen replied.
Ji Yunting sifted through the cards in his hand and sighed. “If he were here, we’d have cleared the game by now.”
Fu Rong lazily said, “Not necessarily. If he were here, he might just be slipping love potion into Zhu Lianzhen’s food every round.”
Zhu Lianzhen: “Why can’t he just try to win me over with his natural charm?”
“Fine, we get it, you’re into it.” Fu Rong rolled his eyes at him.
Zhu Lianzhen: “I’m not speaking for him! What’s wrong with your comprehension skills?”
They played until just before dinner time, but couldn’t get the perfect ending, so they decisively called it off.
Zhu Lianzhen went upstairs and played with the cat for a while. He threw a small ball toward the end of the hallway, and Naisi would run to retrieve it and obediently bring it back to him. Once the cat had burned off enough energy and got too lazy to keep fetching, it started scratching at the door.
Zhu Lianzhen even opened his own room and whistled to attract its attention, but Naisi seemed too used to the familiar space and showed no extra interest in the owner’s bedroom. It stayed focused on scratching someone else’s door.
Zhu Lianzhen figured it must have heard the sound of the movie through the wall and gotten curious, so he walked over and opened the door.
Tan Qing was leaning against the bed, watching the movie projected on the wall. He wasn’t distracted by the person and cat entering—he just glanced at them once.
Zhu Lianzhen let Naisi roam around the room. He walked to the bedside and sat down. Tan Qing automatically shifted over a bit to make room for him. Zhu Lianzhen went ahead and lay down. “What are you watching? Is it good?”
“A Western horror film. Not that interesting.” Tan Qing turned his face slightly, his nose brushing against Zhu Lianzhen’s fluffy hair.
“Thai horror movies are way scarier.”
“Do you want to watch one?” Tan Qing picked up the remote and paused the movie.
Zhu Lianzhen shook his head and pressed play again for him. Then he stopped talking, just leaning on Tan Qing to rest.
There had been many such moments before, when they sat close on the couch or bed. Tan Qing would accompany Zhu Lianzhen in gaming, or Zhu Lianzhen would watch movies with him. Simple, everyday scenes, just like any ordinary couple in the world.
In fact, Zhu Lianzhen never really knew what couples were supposed to do. He never watched romantic movies or read love stories. He and Tan Qing had never been the type to say sweet things to each other directly. When they first got together, it even felt a little awkward. But everything between them had unfolded naturally, so different from the kind of closeness they had as friends. Even things he once dismissed outright, he now accepted without resistance.
Naisi jumped onto the bed, walking along the edge and leaving small paw-shaped dents on the pillow. Zhu Lianzhen scratched under its chin, and Naisi squinted its eyes in bliss. The moment he stopped, it opened its eyes again and shoved its fluffy head into his hand, demanding more.
The way it begged to be petted made Zhu Lianzhen laugh. He nudged Tan Qing with his arm to make him look at the cat.
Tan Qing turned his head and looked. Then, all of a sudden, he raised his hand and scratched under Zhu Lianzhen’s chin with his fingertip.
Zhu Lianzhen was lying on the bed lazily. After Tan Qing’s ambiguous gesture, for some reason, his brain short-circuited. He tilted his head and pressed into Tan Qing’s palm with a light nudge.
Zhu Lianzhen: “…”
A shiver ran through him as he was startled by his own reaction. What the hell am I doing?! Was I just acting cute toward Tan Qing? That’s terrifying!
What was even scarier was that Tan Qing actually followed up by ruffling his hair, just like how he petted Naisi. Zhu Lianzhen’s scalp tingled. He quickly sat up straight and stared ahead, pretending to be very focused on the movie.
…Sometimes, even he was speechless at himself.
The movie really was dull. Western-style horror often came with blood and violence, lacking any lingering impact that made one think deeper. Zhu Lianzhen grew drowsy as he watched and snuck a glance at Tan Qing, feeling like he was zoning out too while watching.
“If you think it’s boring, why not switch to something else?” Zhu Lianzhen asked.
“I’ve already seen the beginning, so might as well finish it.”
Zhu Lianzhen didn’t know if this was a habit or an obsession of his, willing to waste time rather than leave things unfinished. Even with games Zhu Lianzhen was too lazy to finish, Tan Qing would patiently see them through for him.
Maybe Tan Qing was someone who cared about endings. The thought came to Zhu Lianzhen suddenly, and he asked offhandedly, “You wouldn’t happen to have already planned out how you want to die, would you?”
Tan Qing stared at the screen, and after a few seconds, slowly turned to look at him. Zhu Lianzhen felt like his question had been a bit nonsensical, yet Tan Qing answered with an “Mm.”
“I’d like to naturally decompose after I die,” Tan Qing said. “In a forest, or the ocean. I think either would be fine.”
Zhu Lianzhen lowered his voice. “Then I’ll be a shark.”
“You’re going to eat me?”
“I’d be helping you decompose.”
Just then, the movie shifted into a sequence of rapid, intense sound effects. It was a tense chase scene involving the protagonists. But the two viewers outside the screen weren’t at all drawn into the suspenseful atmosphere. They were slowly discussing which type of shark had the sharpest teeth.
“Like yours?” Tan Qing pressed a finger to Zhu Lianzhen’s chin, the tip lifting his upper lip to easily reveal his white canines. Zhu Lianzhen bit him hard, and Tan Qing didn’t pull away.
When Zhu Lianzhen finally let go, Tan Qing wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned in to kiss him.
Amid the noisy movie audio, their bodies pressed closely together, they both heard the doorbell ring downstairs. It was a teammate’s food delivery arriving. A moment later, Ji Yunting called them from the living room, telling them to come down to eat.
The brief kiss ended as calmly as it had begun.
The two of them drew apart, habitually returning to their composed expressions, as if entering another mode entirely. Even the unspoken desire in their eyes vanished without a trace.
Tan Qing turned off the projector. The moment the room fell silent again, Zhu Lianzhen suddenly felt a strange frustration.
The movie had clearly been so boring, but now he really wanted to finish it with Tan Qing.
