FIG CHAPTER 67

Zhu Lianzhen realized that he had broken his promise. After that 100th-episode anniversary, he hadn’t managed to congratulate Tan Qing in the same way again.

Two years of estrangement had felt relatively short, but when converted into over a hundred weeks, into more than seven hundred days, those temporarily sealed memories suddenly became long and tormenting.

He wanted to send flowers.

But it was too late today, so he would have to make it up another time.

—

Title: [To be honest, aren’t two certain people overdoing it a bit lately?]

[Just to clarify, I really mean no harm. I don’t have a “main ship” and can enjoy any pairing I come across. I just wanted to say, the recent activity from a certain CP has been off the charts. I open any social app, and there they are… And don’t tell me it’s just the algorithm. I’ve already clicked “not interested,” so why do I keep seeing it? Isn’t this basically viral marketing?

Also, some of the sweet moments feel way too deliberate. Like, the airport was so crowded—why did he have to turn back just to hold hands?

And why bring up a private topic during a show, only to stop right after piquing the audience’s curiosity? It all feels scripted, like they’re just faking it to look like they’re in love…

No offense to fans. I’m just sharing my honest opinion as a viewer.]

[Comment 2: From the title I thought you were talking about XX, but turns out you meant XX…]

[Comment 4: Haha, there are two people overdoing it right now, but which two? Hard to say. Got any guesses, folks?]

[Comment 6: Huh?? OP’s complaining about QingZhen? Sorry, I don’t really follow A-Group. From the title, I thought it was about “Upholding Purity,” so I came in ready to rant too…]

[Comment 11: OP’s not wrong. And what does QingZhen’s fanservice have to do with ShenYu? Please don’t drag unrelated people into this!]

[Comment 14: Don’t pretend, OP. You’re baiting people and karma’s gonna catch up.]

[Comment 17: Didn’t you basically answer your own question in the post? Yup, we held hands on purpose. Yup, being lovey-dovey on purpose. And yup, we’re shoving it right in your face just to make you mad. So what?]

[Comment 21: Hehe, if they’re bold enough to talk about private stuff on the show, I can’t even imagine what they say in private.]

[Comment 24: Does QingZhen really need to fake it? Weren’t they even more over-the-top before, basically hiding in an invisible closet? Compared to that, this “remarriage” phase is tame. At least they’re not glued to each other’s side 24/7 now.]

[Comment 29: Wait, is no one going to talk about what that private topic actually was on the show! Aren’t you QingZhen fans supposed to be top-tier detectives? Get on it already!]

[Comment 32: Tan Qing mentioned “today’s date.” All I know is, that day was the 300th-episode anniversary of his radio show. But I doubt that’s what they were talking about. It’s probably some code only the two of them understand.]

[Comment 36: Anyone with a pair of eyes can tell who’s a real couple and who’s just faking it for fanservice.]

[Comment 40: Chill, Starlight Gala’s coming up. Rumor has it that “Upholding Purity” and A-Group’s performances are scheduled back to back. Should be fun to compare which CP lays it on thicker.]

[Comment 45: A-Group’s really fallen off… Now they’re even resorting to comparing themselves to outsiders. Since when do idol fans think they can compare themselves to film actors?]

[Comment 46: Why are you getting worked up?]

[Comment 51: Is the Starlight Gala this month? Ooh, can’t wait for the drama.]

…

In an era dominated by entertainment, what netizens enjoyed most were the open and covert rivalries between celebrities. Any awards show or gala that brought a crowd of artists together would inevitably cause a surge in trending searches that day.

Among these events, the most highly anticipated was the “Starlight Gala.” First held at the turn of the millennium and hosted every other year, it analyzed data from major streaming platforms and offline reports across the previous two years to announce the Top 100 most talked-about figures in the entertainment industry.

To date, the Starlight Gala had only been held a little over ten times, but each time there had been iconic moments that became hot topics among the public. For instance, one year two male celebrities got into a fight onstage, exchanging insults and accusing each other of being the “other man”; or the time an award-winning actress refused to appear with her longtime rival and pretended to faint from low blood sugar to leave the venue; or when a divorced couple was nominated for Best Duo of the Year and stood ten meters apart on the award stage… Such moments were so well-known they’d basically become part of pop culture memory.

Everyone looked forward to who would stir up buzz this year and who would provide the laughs.

“Which color do you want to dye it?” asked the hairstylist, standing behind Zhu Lianzhen in the styling studio.

With the Starlight Gala approaching, all five members of their group needed to show up with a fresh look. Zhu Lianzhen flipped through the color swatches twice and couldn’t decide.

“I’ve already dyed most of these colors before,” he muttered.

“Wanna try highlights or a gradient?”

“How about black?” Zhu Lianzhen recalled that fans had once requested it.

“Black, huh…” The stylist hesitated, studying the top of his head. “Black looks good, but for an event like the gala, brighter colors tend to stand out more.”

Zhu Lianzhen thought it over seriously, then said, “No need. There’ll be way too many celebrities attending this time. Better to keep it low-key.”

“All right, I’ll mix a few darker tones for you to choose from. Not sure how the lighting at the venue will be. Pure black might contrast too starkly with your skin tone.”

Zhu Lianzhen nodded in agreement.

Several well-known stylists in the industry enjoyed working with Zhu Lianzhen. His hair quality was exceptional. Whether permed or bleached, it never became dry or frizzy, allowing styles and shine from design drafts to be faithfully recreated.

After finishing his hair, Zhu Lianzhen went to change clothes. As soon as he entered the dressing room, over a dozen pairs of eyes turned toward him in unison. His new hair color was a brown lightly infused with orange tones, evoking the image of caramel melting in the summer air. It was quietly sweet and youthful.

Koty smiled at him. “Are you pretending to be all mature now?”

Zhu Lianzhen glanced at the formal suits and accessories they were all wearing, a bit surprised. “You’re wearing white today?”

“Mm. What do you think? Warm and bright, right?” Koty stretched out his arms to show off the cut and details of his outfit.

Zhu Lianzhen: “Feels like we’re turning over a new leaf starting today.”

He took his suit into the dressing room to change. When he came out, it just so happened that Tan Qing was coming out from the other changing room on the opposite side, and they ran into each other.

They hadn’t seen each other in about half a month, both busy with work and barely keeping in touch. Zhu Lianzhen wanted to greet him, but the idea felt forced and awkward. Besides, the flowers still haven’t been delivered from that day. He knew Tan Qing was probably still thinking about it.

“Did you pick that color yourself?” Tan Qing was the first to speak, his eyes fixed on Zhu Lianzhen’s hair.

“Mm.”

Tan Qing thought for a moment, then said, “Hold on a second.”

He walked into the accessories area, where various pins, earrings, and pocket squares provided by brands were on display. Zhu Lianzhen watched as he browsed through a few items, quickly putting them back until he finally took out a pair of eyeglass frames.

“Try these.” Tan Qing handed them to him.

The oval frames were light and fit snugly on Zhu Lianzhen’s high-bridged nose. He turned to face the mirror. From head to toe, this was a whole new look for him. He wasn’t quite used to the grown-up vibe. He figured he’d better talk less and pretend to look serious tonight.

By six in the evening, the artists invited to the gala began walking the red carpet one after another. Lights flashed, shutters clicked non-stop. Within just thirty seconds of the livestream going live, the viewer count shot up past 700,000.

With no filters or post-production, the camera captured the celebrities’ real-time appearances in full clarity—whose look was eye-catching, and whose makeup was a total disaster. From appearance to outfit, everything was scrutinized by the audience beyond the camera.

[A-Group is out!]

[Whoa! They’re all in white today! So handsome!]

[? I almost didn’t recognize]

[Stylist nailed it. Each look fits their vibe perfectly. Hold on, where’s Zhu Lianzhen?]

[Holy crap! Zhu Lianzhen dyed his hair brown and put on glasses? Why is he suddenly so sexy… AAAAAH is this the boyfriend look]

[Pretty sure this is their first time wearing all-white on a red carpet. They actually look kind of wholesome.]

[That’s bold. They instantly outshone the earlier guys in white. The difference between prince charming and small-town groomsmen.]

…

Acemon’s seats were in the front row, directly facing the stage. On both sides sat veteran singers who had enjoyed years of popularity and acclaim. While the red carpet segment was still ongoing, they snacked on a few pastries to build up energy for the evening’s performance.

Before putting his phone away, Zhu Lianzhen noticed that the company had just posted a Weibo update saying Acemon had arrived at the venue. Since he hadn’t posted in several days, he casually reposted it with the caption: “The new hair color I promised you has arrived!”

The number of comments exploded. In the time it took him to switch out of the app and back in, the top comments had already reshuffled. Most were compliments about his look tonight, while the rest expressed excitement and anticipation.

The top comment asked: “Who picked out those glasses for you! The coordination is spot on!”

Zhu Lianzhen casually replied: “Tan Qing.”

What he didn’t realize was that the fan’s question had simply been an expressive way of praising him. The focus was on complimenting him, not on actually being curious about “who” it was.

After replying, Zhu Lianzhen put his phone away, completely unaware that a fresh wave of drama between solo fans and CP fans was already brewing.

[I thought today was the boyfriend look, but turns out we literally got a boyfriend’s look]

[No wonder it looks so good. Someone really knows what they’re doing. Total defeat]

[Picking out glasses before going on camera? That’s basically the same as tying someone’s tie before they leave.]

…

The entertainment industry now placed more and more emphasis on public image, and compared to previous years, this year’s Starlight Gala felt noticeably tamer. One by one, celebrities went onstage to accept their awards, all sticking to scripted speeches. There wasn’t a hint of passive-aggressive shade at each other, let alone any cold glares caught on camera.

There were twenty minutes left before Acemon’s performance, and they were already getting ready backstage. Not long ago, they had seen several directors passing by with tense expressions, and the nearby static of walkie-talkies buzzed in and out.

After a while, a staff member came over to them, looking awkward and apologetic. “The two guests before you still haven’t arrived. We’ll need you to go on early.”

It was only a few minutes ahead of schedule, and the members understood that last-minute changes like this happened. Koty couldn’t help but gossip. “It’s this late and they’re still not here? Is Beijing traffic that bad today?”

“Who was supposed to be before us?” Fu Rong asked.

The director told them it was Shen Lang and Yu Dangjie. Fu Rong shook his head, indicating he didn’t recognize the names.

The host was already announcing the new program order. The members rose onto the stage via the platform lift, smoothly confirming camera angles and taking their designated spots.

[I remember the lineup said A-Group was performing after “Upholding Purity.” Did they change the order?]

[Scared me to death, I thought I missed my CP’s stage just because I went to grab takeout]

[Damn, could it be that those two still haven’t arrived? They weren’t even on the red carpet]

[Why hasn’t anyone from their team posted anything on Weibo?]

…

Acemon performed the secondary title track from their EP today. The choreography was relatively simple, with no complex moves. The all-white suits unexpectedly matched the song’s style perfectly, and the group’s aura shifted from their usual edgy rebelliousness to a softer, more sensual allure.

The performance was destined to become a classic that audiences would replay time and again.

When the song ended, there was no designated ending shot arranged by the production team. After their final bow, the group prepared to exit the stage. But to their surprise, the director’s voice came through their earpieces: “Prepare for the next song.”

The next song?

A flicker of confusion passed through their eyes, but since it was a live broadcast, they maintained calm and composed expressions and stayed on stage.

Having debuted for many years, they had encountered all kinds of technical mishaps, including sudden encore notices like this one. They had no time to dwell on what had gone wrong. Their only task was to keep the broadcast going and continue performing.

Moments later, the intro to “No Man’s Land” began. In the few seconds it took to adjust their positions, the five members exchanged quick glances.

This ballad from six years ago was likely the easiest track for the audio team to manage on the fly and one that wouldn’t stress the lighting crew. But for Acemon, standing on stage, it had been years since they last performed it, and they had forgotten many of the performance details. They could only sing while trying to recall everything in real time.

To make matters worse, the teleprompter wasn’t displaying the lyrics to “No Man’s Land,” but from “Monologue,” a ballad from another one of their albums.

Thankfully, the first verse was Ji Yunting’s part. He had written many of the group’s lyrics himself, so he naturally remembered more than the others.

He gave a strong start. Following him, Koty had actually forgotten his part, but based on Ji Yunting’s delivery, he improvised an entire section on the spot.

Halfway through the song, they realized they were about to face an even bigger challenge—the lines originally assigned to Fan Gerong hadn’t been redistributed, and part of it included high notes.

The former lead vocalist had his own distinctive techniques and vocal habits. None of the remaining members had the same vocal cords suited for high notes, and none of them were fit to replace him without preparation.

But they couldn’t just leave that segment silent. The performance had already reached this point, and it was a matter of Acemon’s pride. They had to finish it smoothly, no matter what.

Zhu Lianzhen tapped out the rhythm silently in his mind. Just before the new part began, he took a deep breath, then lowered his voice and began to sing.

He sang “Monologue” that was scrolling on the teleprompter. This particular section happened to be the most lyrically dense. By deliberately lowering his voice, his calm singing took on a richer tone, while still keeping the clarity of his original voice.

After he finished the first line, another voice layered in at just the right moment, forming a harmony.

Zhu Lianzhen kept his gaze fixed on the front-facing camera. Even without turning his head, he knew it was Tan Qing.

They changed the melody and form of the lyrics from “Monologue,” blending them into the section that was originally meant for high notes. As the tune shifted, their lower-pitched harmonies rose and fell slightly. Just before the end, Fu Rong abruptly jumped four keys higher, covering their final notes and smoothly transitioning the arrangement back into “No Man’s Land.”

In the final chorus, all five members sang together. The stage lights gradually converged on them, casting a warm glow over their white suits.

When the song ended, the artists in the audience gave a round of enthusiastic applause. Aside from the hosts, no one realized that Acemon had performed an impromptu encore. After a brief delay, the livestream audience erupted with excitement as well, and viewership surged to two million.

[Aaaaaahhh what kind of regal prince vibe is this from A-Group today]

[Did QingZhen take over Fan Gerong’s parts after he left? It suits them, actually. But seriously, is A-Group really not planning to train another high-note vocalist? Fu Rong’s singing style is harmful on the throat.]

[…Can you not just say whatever comes to mind? You think they can just train someone like that overnight? Every artist in Zuige is already one-in-a-million before they debut. That lead singer left, so let it go already. A-Group doesn’t have to stick to the same style]

[The harmonies between QingZhen were seamless. I’m dying to know how many times they rehearsed that]

[Wait a second, did everyone forget there were still two more guests who haven’t shown up yet!]

[Holy crap, I did forget. Where’s “Upholding Purity”? Weren’t A-Group only supposed to have one song?]

[Exactly, so what’s up with “No Man’s Land”? That song wasn’t even on the program. Did Pei Qiao bribe the organizers?]

…

During the host’s interlude, the number of live comments spiked again. Viewers were all speculating about Shen Lang and Yu Dangjie. After all, they still hadn’t appeared on screen, and by this point, it was highly likely they hadn’t shown up at all.

Some guessed it was due to traffic jams. Others thought they’d offended the event organizers. One theory even joked that the two would make a grand entrance as the most important guests of the night, but no one actually believed that.

Then, out of nowhere, a bright yellow highlighted comment scrolled across the screen from right to left, igniting a wave of online frenzy.

[I can’t believe this… I heard those two got arrested tonight…]