While Zhuang Qin was backstage removing his makeup, the singer performing on stage was one of his friends.
When all the lights dimmed, nobody noticed that someone had already stood up to leave.
Li Mu indeed disliked noisy, crowded places. Attending operas in a box seat was bearable, as he could ignore the other audience members. However, the screaming of the girls around him was overwhelming. He wouldn’t have come if not to hear Zhuang Qin perform Kunqu.
He took his work pass and made his way backstage, where he saw Zhuang Qin had finished removing his makeup and was dressed in black, ready to go on stage. The outfit, possibly prepared by the staff, was made of red velvet, loosely fitted, revealing his clear collarbones, and studded with tiny diamonds that sparkled under the lights.
Li Mu stood at a distance, watching Zhuang Qin who seemed to be memorizing lyrics, while an assistant checked his in-ear monitors and other equipment. Whether it was fresh makeup or residue from earlier, his eyes still bore traces of red.
Standing still, Li Mu watched as Zhuang Qin went on stage and the singer came off.
“Did everyone receive their gifts?” Zhuang Qin’s voice came through the theater’s sound system, feeling somewhat surreal.
Li Mu subconsciously looked down at his watch.
“Received!” the crowd shouted in unison.
“It’s a Children’s Day gift for you all.”
At that moment, staff wheeled a cake onto the stage, and Li Mu heard him say, “So I have a gift too.”
Standing backstage, Li Mu watched as Zhuang Qin blew out the candles under the watchful eyes of many, made a wish, and everyone again wished him a happy birthday—it was a cheerful scene.
As Li Mu left, he heard Zhuang Qin singing. He wasn’t a professional singer and was slightly off-key, but his voice was exceptionally warm and touching.
He paused mid-step, then saw several people coming in with carts, distributing cakes to the backstage staff, saying, “Teacher Zhuang bought these for everyone, one for each person.”
The phrase “one for each person” stung Li Mu particularly hard.
With a work pass around his neck and ready to leave, Li Mu was forcibly handed a small box of cake.
Li Mu, not fond of sweets, declined, saying he didn’t want any. He left the backstage, returned to the parking lot, and got into his car but didn’t drive away. He remembered that the birthday party would be live-streamed on a platform, downloaded the app, and paid for a membership to watch.
The live stream was delayed by a few minutes, just as he finished singing that song, a shower of rose petals fell from above the stage. It lasted several seconds, and he stood alone at the center of the stage, his face finely lit under the stage lights, his features, especially his eyes, strikingly compelling.
The screams from below continued, but he remained still, holding the microphone, “This next song, I dedicate to someone important.”
Important person?
Li Mu turned up the volume.
“To the most important—each and every one of you.”
Li Mu turned off his phone.
He drove back to the hotel, still unable to shake off the incident. The fact that so many others received the same gift troubled him. It wasn’t exactly anger, but he felt inexplicably choked up. He wondered if he had always misunderstood; perhaps Zhuang Qin had always just seen him as a friend.
But just last month, Zhuang Qin had sent him New Zealand honey, saying he liked the brand; he’d sent a brand of music pillow to use in the makeup room during breaks…
After the birthday party ended, Li Mu searched online and found numerous fans showcasing their gifts.
Various pictures, various confessions.
“And there’s cake too!!! Brother didn’t charge for tickets and even gave us so much…” Someone posted a picture of a small cake, labeled with “Happy 6.1 [heart].”
“That star projector costs over a thousand online, and the watch is also around a thousand, plus the snacks and cake… I’m worried little brother is losing money…”
“I found an Easter egg!! Have you guys used the star projector?? I noticed it’s a special edition, one of the discs is custom-made, I played it and indeed found an Easter egg, but it’s too fast to photograph. It’s an English confession hidden in the projection, you barely notice unless you look closely, I watched several times to confirm it says ‘Meeting you is a fortune’!!!! I want to know, is it just me, or does everyone have it?”
Below, fans who couldn’t make it commented: “I’m so jealous!!”
“Sour.”
“High price, will the blogger sell it?”
“Sister, not to burst your bubble, but that phrase probably means ‘Meeting all of you is a fortune.’ Wake up! I saw it posted officially.”
Blogger replied: “I don’t care, that sentence was meant for me! Don’t wake me up!!”
It was clearly… meant for me at the beginning.
Li Mu put down his phone, his mood plummeting.
He couldn’t even understand why he cared so much about this matter, because emotions aren’t something that can be simply quantified.
While Li Mu was showering, Zhuang Qin had yet to leave the Pauley Theater.
Today’s fans were actually quite well-behaved, but some crazed ones might be outside, so the staff, concerned for his safety, sent several decoys in cars to lead most of the fans away.
Zhuang Qin changed into the simplest of clothes—having changed into seven or eight outfits today, sung many songs, and performed dances, in addition to rehearsing all afternoon, he was so exhausted he couldn’t even stand straight, barely able to speak.
On the car ride, he had a forty-minute video call with his mentor and his wife, replying to friends’ well-wishes in his WeChat moments, not bothering with Weibo as Sister Wen handled his account there.
At 11:30 PM, Zhuang Qin got home.
He had received many gifts today, most sent to his company. After being checked by staff, Xiao Lian delivered some to his home—mostly letters or handmade small gifts.
The staff was very cautious during checks, for example, letters could contain crazy declarations of love or threatening messages, which were discarded immediately.
Some sent unclean things, especially those with a strong scent intended to mask other smells, like their own blood or hair. Some stuffed dolls were specially checked for bugs or needles; these wouldn’t be given to Zhuang Qin. As for food, staff would taste-test before bringing some to him, knowing what he would eat, while returning anything excessively expensive.
Some rich fans might send luxury cars; some celebrities might accept them, but they knew Zhuang Qin wouldn’t.
After Xiao Lian left, only Zhuang Qin and Xiao Dao remained at home.
Xiao Dao, unaware the gifts had already been checked, was paranoidly inspecting and taste-testing them for Zhuang Qin.
“It’s not poisoned; you don’t need to be so cautious,” Zhuang Qin watched him taste tiny bits, looking as if he expected to be poisoned.
“Some poisons are colorless and tasteless, and what about those hidden needles, is that real?”
It was indeed true, and even mild compared to what true crazies could do, but Zhuang Qin didn’t want Xiao Dao to worry and claimed it was fake: “It’s not that exaggerated; don’t believe everything you read online.”
He went over, unwrapped a gift, then suddenly remembered something, pulling out a gift box from under a pile of presents on the table that had been there for a few days.
He almost forgot, he hadn’t yet thanked Li Mu.
“Xiao Dao, get some rest early, you have a flight to catch tomorrow.” He took the gift upstairs.
“Hey—I know, I even want to go to Thailand with you to watch you film.”
Zhuang Qin stood at the second-floor railing, looking down at him on the first floor: “Study hard, don’t skip classes so casually.”
Xiao Dao rarely mentioned school; since starting university, he had been cooking private meals for delivery, initially by himself, then later expanded to a Chinese restaurant. Both Chinese international students and foreigners often ordered his deliveries, some students even volunteering to deliver for free in their luxury cars.
Over the years, he kept up with his studies and earned some money, but Xiao Dao felt it wasn’t enough, not even close to what his senior brother earned from a single movie.
Zhuang Qin went to his room, opened the gift from Li Mu.
It seemed to be some high-tech product, looking like glasses but with a cool design and thicker lenses, including a charger and gloves among other accessories, unclear of its actual purpose.
Unable to find the charger or instructions, he fumbled to connect the charger and studied it for a while, sending an emoji first, then asked Li Mu: “Are you asleep?”
Li Mu, lying in bed, ignored his playful emoji: “No.”
“Thanks for the gift, I really like it.”
Li Mu scrolled through their previous chat, his own hints now seeming absurd.
Replied: “Glad you like it.”
Zhuang Qin, feeling perhaps he was about to rest, had just typed “What is this” but then deleted it.
Li Mu guessed he probably didn’t understand the device, deliberately removed the instructions to make him ask.
Seeing “typing…” for over ten seconds, then came: “Won’t disturb your rest, good night.”
Huh?
He understood how to use the gift?
How come he didn’t ask a single question!
Did he really open it?
Zhuang Qin didn’t know he was overthinking it, and soon fell asleep. The next day, he personally took Xiao Dao to the airport, patting his junior brother’s hair: “Study well, don’t impulsively run back home next time.”
Despite knowing the risks of being photographed, Xiao Dao couldn’t help but hug him: “I was worried you’d be lonely…”
“Lonely? I have many friends, didn’t you see all those gifts yesterday?” Some were from fans, others from friends in the industry.
Xiao Dao was silent for a while: “If you’re tired, quit being a celebrity, I can make money.”
Zhuang Qin softened his tone: “Go through security, don’t miss your flight. Senior brother doesn’t need you to earn money to support him, just take care of yourself.”
Xiao Dao, feeling emotional: “Then I’m going…”
After Xiao Dao boarded and passed customs, he received a text indicating a transfer of 500,000 yuan, knowing without checking that it was from his senior brother.
Zhuang Qin knew his startup phase was tough.
Xiao Lian dropped Zhuang Qin off at home: “Brother Zhuang, what time are we leaving tomorrow?”
They were set to return to Thailand tomorrow, but Zhuang Qin hadn’t booked his flight yet, he thought for a moment: “I’ll ask around, then book it and let you know.”
Xiao Lian: “Do you need me to stay tonight?”
“No, no, go home, spend time with your family.”
Xiao Lian had been with him filming abroad, unable to return home even once a month, Zhuang Qin wasn’t about to keep him from his family now that he was briefly back in the country, although he had given Xiao Lian a raise, others’ parents would have concerns.
“What would you like for dinner tonight? I’ll order for you.”
Zhuang Qin had recently started cutting down on his diet, eating less than before; the cake from yesterday seemed to be for everyone, but he, the birthday boy, had only had a tiny bite. Fried chicken, hotpot, barbecue… flashed through his mind.
Zhuang Qin said: “Order a salad.”
Xiao Lian paused for a second: “Okay, I’ll get you a salmon salad.”
Zhuang Qin went upstairs, in the elevator, he messaged Director Guo Baozhen.
“Director Guo, I’m returning to the set tomorrow, do you want anything? Like Lao Gan Ma, I can bring it from China.”
They had spoken yesterday, Guo Baozhen had sent birthday wishes, Zhuang Qin had replied to each with thanks, not seeing subsequent messages.
Guo Baozhen asked: “Are you done with things in China?”
“Temporarily done.”
Zhuang Qin: “By the way, Director Guo, has Li Mu returned to the set?”
Guo Baozhen: “Him? Not yet, and he doesn’t give a clear answer, seems to be in a bad mood, hardly responds when spoken to.”
Bad mood?
Zhuang Qin hesitated, but eventually, as it became necessary to book the flight, he messaged Li Mu out of courtesy.
“Mu Ge, have you returned to the set?”
Li Mu replied after a while: “No.”
“Then are you still in China?”
“Yes.”
“What’s up?”
Zhuang Qin was used to his concise chatting style, asked further: “Are you free tomorrow?”
Li Mu stared at the message.
Free tomorrow?
Thinking of a date?
Most likely he was overthinking it by ninety percent.
“Yes.” He replied curtly, fixated on his phone.
Zhuang Qin: “I’m returning to the set tomorrow, just wondering… when are you going back? If you don’t mind, I can book your ticket too, we could go back together. My car could pick you up on the way.”
A plane ride together?
Li Mu’s mood improved, nearly like a date.
Author’s Note:
Li Mu: I’ve hit the jackpot.
Extra release for the Monthly Event on my Discord~
