Since winning the award last night, Acemon had been trending nonstop across all major platforms. Online opinions were sharply divided: some believed the group truly deserved the win, while others suspected the result had been predetermined by Music Platform all along.
Regardless of the ongoing debates, Acemon was undoubtedly the most talked-about artist at the moment. The official fan club’s membership had already risen to 480,000. Although that was only half of their peak figure, the influx of new fans was an impressive achievement for a group that debuted seven or eight years ago.
Major brands had been sending collaboration offers one after another. Pei Qiao and her assistant were constantly replying to messages and hadn’t even had time for a sip of water since waking up.
The members were given a week-long break. During this time, each returned to their own homes, staying away from work and the internet to recharge for the next stage.
While they were relaxing, the paparazzi certainly weren’t. A well-known gossip magazine had dispatched five teams of reporters to stake out the homes of Acemon’s members, documenting their daily lives.
If they managed to catch anything scandalous, they could legally negotiate a big payout from Zuige Entertainment. Even without juicy material, they could at least snap a few candid shots and spin them into harmless gossip for clicks.
After a week of hard work, the magazine’s editor-in-chief finally came to a conclusion: there was absolutely nothing they could use to squeeze money out of Pei Qiao!
According to the field reporters’ notes, the activities of Acemon’s five members went roughly like this:
[Ji Yunting: Left home at 8 AM to have dim sum. Took forever to decide what to order and dragged out the meal until closing time at 10 AM. After eating, he went to the library, where he read a tragic romance novel and cried the whole time. Left the library at 6 PM, then hid on a street corner to make a phone call. Half an hour later, he met a friend on the street and went to a bar.
At midnight, the friend had to carry him out; he was completely drunk and incoherent. On the way home, he saw an old lady selling candied hawthorn. Ji Yunting happily bought them all, then sat down on the spot and started selling them himself.]
[Koty: Often woke up in the afternoon and went out in the evening, usually accompanied by several men and women. After meals, Koty paid; after drinks, Koty paid; at karaoke, Koty picked only his own songs, sang them, and paid again.
During every outing, he had physical contact with different women. He frequently went shopping in luxury stores with them and always paid.]
[Tan Qing: Stayed home the entire first day. Didn’t go out on the second day either. On the third day, went out wearing a mask, drove to the supermarket, and bought fruits and vegetables. Stayed home again on the fourth day. On the fifth day, drove to an imported goods supermarket and came back with a car full of groceries.]
[Fu Rong: The night before returning home, Fu Rong was followed by someone. Possibly a stalker fan. Security at the complex was tight, so she couldn’t get in.
At 4 AM, Fu Rong came out wearing a mask and threw away a black trash bag. Ten minutes later, he brought out another bag and threw it into a different bin.
Then another. Different bin.
Same as above.
And again.
I couldn’t help but alert the security guard, but it didn’t seem like Fu Rong was throwing away anything suspicious. Anyway, I stopped following him. I’m scared I’ll be the next thing he throws out.]
[Zhu Lianzhen: Went to the dance studio at 9 AM, had lunch nearby with friends at noon, returned to practice dancing at 3 PM, and went home after dining out at 8 PM.
The next day, he played basketball at 10 AM, then went to a shooting range at 2 PM.
The day after that, skateboarded around the neighborhood at 8 AM, drove out at noon to meet friends for lunch, and later, the group did an escape room together.]
Compared to the others, Zhu Lianzhen’s holiday schedule was practically glowing with sunshine. In truth, he wasn’t usually this healthy—it was just that Tan Qing had reminded him there were probably paparazzi lurking around lately, so he should be extra careful when going out.
As the weather gradually warmed, Acemon had to dive back into work.
Today, they were shooting for the fashion magazine “Idealism.” The studio was large, and gusts of cold wind carrying dust kept sweeping in from outside. The staff led them deeper inside until they finally reached a room that was just barely warm.
The group found seats and chatted briefly with the photographer before quickly switching into work mode. The photographer rotated the laptop to face them and said, “Next month is World Wildlife Conservation Day, so this issue’s concept is focused on environmental protection to raise public awareness about preserving nature and biodiversity.”
“Preserve biodiversity, huh…” Zhu Lianzhen looked at Koty. “See? Everyone’s really looking out for you.”
Unfortunately, Koty didn’t get it and thought Zhu Lianzhen was praising him for being environmentally conscious.
The styling for this issue embraced a theme of wild beauty. The photographer paired each person with an animal that reflected their personality. Koty was portrayed as a mysterious sea creature. Ji Yunting was a deer—seemingly gentle, yet full of hidden strength. Tan Qing represented a snow leopard: elegant and agile, a danger lurking in the night.
When it was Zhu Lianzhen’s turn, the photographer emphasized, “Zhu Lianzhen’s image was the very first one I finalized. The moment I saw it, I immediately thought of you.”
Hearing her say that, Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t help but feel a little anticipation. Fierce, majestic animals like tigers and gray wolves flashed through his mind—weren’t any of those more impressive than Tan Qing’s snow leopard? Besides, he even had tiger-like canine teeth. Clearly, the animal that matched him was—
“Fennec fox, the smallest canine species in the world.”
The photographer flipped through the photo album with great enthusiasm. “It’s also ranked number one on CNN’s list of ‘Cutest Species in the World’! Have you seen Zootopia? The little fox who scams people with Nick is a fennec fox. They mostly live in deserts, about the size of a small cat or dog. Even when they’re angry, they’re not scary at all.”
“Hahahahahahahahaha!” Koty burst into loud laughter, slinging an arm around Zhu Lianzhen and tugging on his ear. “What’s this? The more I look, the more you really do look like one! Open your mouth and show me your fierce face—”
Even though he knew Zhu Lianzhen was in a bad mood, he couldn’t resist messing with him, a cheeky grin on his face. As expected, he got bitten on the arm, and the pain left him utterly shocked.
“Can’t we pick something else?” Zhu Lianzhen pleaded in a soft voice. “Even if I’m not the king of all beasts, don’t make me the absolute smallest. Aren’t there other foxes? Like arctic foxes or red foxes… If it really can’t be helped, I’ll even take a Tibetan fox[mfn]
[/mfn]. I could live with being a little ugly.”
Before the photographer could respond, Tan Qing spoke up first. “But I think the fennec fox suits you perfectly. Sharp senses, adapted to heat, and especially those eyes—so pure and black, they look amazing when you smile.”
Zhu Lianzhen remained unmoved by the compliment. “Adapted to heat? That’s an advantage? What, am I living in the desert now?”
“Don’t you blush all the time?” Tan Qing asked seriously. “Your body temperature probably rises easily.”
“That’s true.” Ji Yunting nodded. “Zhu Lianzhen’s probably just really healthy—good circulation, thin skin. Just a little exercise and he turns red.”
“What are you two chiming in for?” Zhu Lianzhen was at a loss for words. These people were either scheming or totally lacking in sense, always finding joy in a teammate’s misfortune.
Still, after watching the concept images for a while, Zhu Lianzhen could just barely accept the fennec fox. At the very least, its appearance truly lived up to its reputation as a “world-class protected cuteness.”
While they were getting their makeup and styling done, an editor from the magazine conducted a quick Q&A interview.
“It’ll be your eighth debut anniversary at the end of this year. Over the years, is there any particular experience you often think back on?”
Fu Rong: “Two years ago, when it was announced that everyone would go solo.”
The editor looked a little concerned. “Ah… that must’ve been a hard time, right?”
Fu Rong’s eyes went blank, and his calm tone carried a faint sense of nostalgia. “Just thinking about how I’d never have to see those stupid faces of my teammates again made me feel totally relaxed. I ignored my manager’s calls for a whole month, pretended I wasn’t in good shape whenever work came up, just so I could delay it…”
Ji Yunting couldn’t help but sigh. “What a wonderful time that was.”
“……” The editor turned her gaze to Zhu Lianzhen. “What about you?”
Zhu Lianzhen didn’t like dwelling on the past, but when asked, he still had an answer ready. “Probably the Asia tour.”
The reason was self-evident. That period marked the peak of Acemon’s popularity, and also the time when the members argued the least. They had worked together with a shared goal, focused entirely on their performances. Even the fans had set aside their differences, raising red light signs and lightsticks in unison at the concerts.
At that time, no one in the entire entertainment industry was shining brighter than them.
“That’s my favorite era too! I rewatch your concerts all the time. Your stage presence was unreal!” the editor said excitedly. “Can you secretly tell me when your next concert will be? Off the record, of course.”
Zhu Lianzhen: “About that… we don’t know either.”
The interview continued. It was Tan Qing’s turn to answer the question. After a few seconds of thought, he turned and asked, “Am I the only one who misses our trainee days?”
His teammates showed no reaction, unable to recall anything from their pre-debut days that was worth reminiscing over.
Tan Qing smiled. “Looks like I am.”
Zhu Lianzhen hesitated to speak. He had thought Tan Qing’s answer would be the same as his.
“Back when we were trainees, all we did every day was singing and dancing practice. Life was slow-paced, and we didn’t yet know what adult anxiety was,” Tan Qing explained. “It’s like when regular working people say school life was better.”
Koty nodded repeatedly in agreement. “Especially that last half-year when I even got assigned to share a room with Fu Rong! Too bad I got kicked out after just two days.”
He slapped his thigh in regret and was immediately met with a glare from Fu Rong.
Zhu Lianzhen had almost forgotten. In the six months leading up to their debut, they had moved into a better dorm, with two people per room. He and Tan Qing had been assigned as roommates.
At first, he’d been annoyed by the arrangement, but over time, he realized it was actually pretty great. Tan Qing wasn’t fussy, and he was great at keeping their daily routine in order.
Sometimes, when there was no dance practice on weekends, Zhu Lianzhen would go out with friends until the early hours. Tan Qing often waited up for him, knowing he’d probably forgotten his keys.
When Zhu Lianzhen said he was hungry in the middle of the night and casually mentioned craving fried chicken, Tan Qing would somehow magically pull ingredients from the fridge and make him a late-night snack.
Not to mention, whenever Zhu Lianzhen made a mess of the room, Tan Qing would clean it all up without a word.
Thinking back on it now, Zhu Lianzhen realized Tan Qing had truly been the perfect roommate. And yet, he’d accepted all that thoughtfulness without a second thought, without ever properly saying “thank you.” The memory made him feel a little guilty.
Editor: “Last question, do you have anything you’d like to say to your fans?”
The answers to this kind of question were always some form of gratitude. The four members before him had all said pretty much the same thing, so Zhu Lianzhen just said, “Eat on time, drink plenty of warm water, and go to bed early.”
The editor couldn’t help but laugh, and Zhu Lianzhen explained, “What? I think that’s solid advice. So many young people nowadays eat takeout, drink milk tea, and stay up all night.”
“Then what if you were giving advice to a girlfriend? Would it still be the same?” the editor asked.
Zhu Lianzhen was speechless for a moment. After thinking for a few seconds, he answered in a low voice, “Still—eat on time, drink plenty of warm water, and go to bed early.”
That kind of concern might’ve sounded plain and a little rough, but the more Zhu Lianzhen thought about it, the more he felt that a person’s health was what mattered most.
Once styling was done, the long day of shooting began. The silicone fox ears stuck to Zhu Lianzhen’s head weighed him down by the end of the day, and the dye sprayed into his roots made his scalp uncomfortable.
By the time they wrapped up and returned to the dorm, he quickly jumped into the shower.
Half an hour later, with his hair half-dried, he came downstairs in a bathrobe and saw the empty dining table. He couldn’t help but ask, “Tan Qing didn’t cook?”
Ji Yunting gave him a strange look. “Tan Qing’s not a chef.”
Used to freeloading meals, Zhu Lianzhen had almost forgotten that Tan Qing wasn’t actually responsible for feeding them, especially not today, when everyone was already exhausted.
Ji Yunting ordered a bunch of takeout, but unfortunately, every single dish was a disaster. Practically inedible. Nobody ate much, and they ended up just snacking and drinking instead.
Tan Qing hadn’t come downstairs yet, so Zhu Lianzhen asked the others, “What’s he doing in his room?”
“Probably talking to Pei-jie on the phone? He’s been handling personal work stuff since we got back,” Ji Yunting replied.
Zhu Lianzhen popped the last potato chip into his mouth, grabbed a wet wipe to clean his hands, and headed upstairs.
He first sent a WeChat message asking if Tan Qing was hungry, but didn’t get a reply. Then he knocked on the door.
When it opened, a wave of body wash fragrance hit him. Tan Qing stood there with a towel in one hand, drying his hair. “What is it?”
Zhu Lianzhen: “I’m thinking of ordering barbecue. Want anything?”
“No, filming’s coming up, so I have to watch my weight.” Tan Qing’s eyes moved upward. “Your hair’s not fully dry. Come here.”
Thinking Tan Qing needed something, Zhu Lianzhen followed him into the bathroom, only to see him pick up a hairdryer and aim it at his head.
Zhu Lianzhen looked at their reflection in the mirror. They were both wearing bathrobes. The scene felt a little too intimate, so he quickly reached out and took the hairdryer from Tan Qing. “I’ll do it myself.”
“What’s your new film about?” Zhu Lianzhen asked.
“A typical indie film. Nothing commercial about it. The role I got is a lower-class young man with questionable morals who has an affair,” Tan Qing said. “He ends up dying violently in the street.”
That kind of storyline wasn’t Zhu Lianzhen’s thing. He glanced at Tan Qing in the mirror and replied perfunctorily, “Do your best and win some awards.”
“I’m not really expecting that,” Tan Qing said. “I’m just focused on refining my scenes.”
“It’s just about setting a long-term goal. You were saying the other day you hoped the group would keep improving.” Zhu Lianzhen figured his hair was dry enough and turned off the hairdryer.
Tan Qing looked at his profile and said, “Alright, I’ll try.”
As he was about to leave, Zhu Lianzhen double-checked, “You’re really not hungry?”
Tan Qing shook his head.
When it came to self-discipline, Zhu Lianzhen genuinely admired Tan Qing. For several days in a row, he’d eaten nothing but vegetables with salmon. His carbs were limited to the tough kinds like quinoa, brown rice, just enough for basic nutrition, without touching any extra calories.
Unfortunately, the rest of them could no longer mooch off his cooking and had been forced to downgrade to takeout.
A few days later, the photographer sent over the retouched magazine photos for review.
The first set was Fu Rong’s, and it was stunning. He faced slightly away from the camera, back gently arched, with enormous butterfly wings stretching out from his shoulder blades. His cheeks and eyelids were dusted with phosphorescent light blue highlighter, glowing dreamily under the lights.
Zhu Lianzhen scrolled through photo after photo. When he reached Tan Qing’s set, his fingers paused.
In the photos, Tan Qing was bare-chested, a translucent ram horn necklace hanging from his neck. He leaned against a realistic snow leopard model, seated sideways in the snow. His physique was in perfect on-camera shape, with a well-defined chest and abs, low body fat, and a solid yet natural build that aligned with Asian beauty standards.
The snow leopard had been digitally enhanced, making it look even more lifelike. Its eyes were deep and sharp, the spotted pattern across its broad forehead shimmering with vitality.
The two of them shared the frame in perfect harmony, radiating a cold, solemn atmosphere.
Zhu Lianzhen let out a quiet snort, thinking to himself: “Looks pretty handsome, actually.”
Through their similarly piercing gazes, he sensed a subtle connection between them. The snow leopard, skilled at concealing its aggression while lurking in silence, reminded him of Tan Qing—someone who never showed his darker side to others. When he worked hard, he really did resemble a nocturnal creature.
Zhu Lianzhen didn’t save the photos, but he did look at them a few more times. What he didn’t expect was that not long after, his phone apps started pushing him updates about Tan Qing and wildlife documentaries about snow leopards.
…It’s truly the age of big data and zero privacy.
Still, when Zhu Lianzhen had nothing better to do, he’d sometimes click on those snow leopard videos. After all, they were part of the feline family, and as a cat owner, he found their wildness kind of cute.
When that issue of Idealism magazine hit the shelves, it sold like crazy and earned a ton of praise.
After reposting the magazine’s promo, Zhu Lianzhen also shared a selfie taken during the shoot.
It was his look from the set—fox ears perched on his head, a fluffy tail behind. Makeup resembling bloodstains marked his cheekbones and the corner of his mouth, and the defiance in his eyes balanced out the vulnerability. Fans were obsessed.
[Fox ears! Desert hottie! Fox ears! Desert hottie! Fox ears!]
[The collar! The ripped clothes are so hot AHHHH exposed waist exposed waist exposed waist!]
[Baby, let me touch that fluffy big tail of yours]
[Such a gorgeous little fox spirit hiss hiss]
Zhu Lianzhen had no idea how his fans came up with so many outrageous nicknames, but by now, he was more or less used to it. That was just how they expressed their love. Then, buried among all the “daughter” and “meimei”[mfn]meimei = little sister[/mfn] comments, he spotted Ah-Xu sneaking into the crowd.
Ah-Xu sent him a private message: “No wonder you’ve been watching snow leopard videos lately.”
Zhu Lianzhen: “?”
Just then, a Weibo notification popped up at the top of his screen.
Acemon Tan Qing commented on your post: Picture comment
Zhu Lianzhen tapped it open. Tan Qing had posted an image of a baby fennec fox under his selfie. It was tiny enough to fit in the keeper’s palm.
[Damn, it’s identical. @AcemonZhuLianzhen come look]
[What the heck, so cute, so cute. Ge, why do you even have a pic like this saved]
[Wuwuwu little fox’s eyes are like black gemstones. Thank you Tan Qing-laoshi[mfn]laoshi = teacher. It’s also used as a term of respect toward a professional in a field[/mfn], I’m saving this]
[Ge, are you hinting at something?]
[Nailed it.jpg]
Tan Qing’s comment got pushed to the top, impossible to ignore. Zhu Lianzhen had no choice but to dig up a photo of a snow leopard eating meat and comment back.
[What the hell, where did you even find such a cute photo?]
[Snow leopards eat so elegantly. Does Tan Qing eat like this too?]
[Is there more, is there more? Give us more!]
A while later, Zhu Lianzhen received another image reply from Tan Qing. This time of a fennec fox tilting its head while someone gently booped its nose with a finger.
“Tch.” Zhu Lianzhen immediately found a picture of a snow leopard with food stuck to the tip of its nose, its tongue outstretched as it tried to lick it off, looking rather silly.
[? When did this turn into a meme battle]
[Wtf, where are you two even finding all these adorable pics, give us some search words]
[New fan here, just asking, is this how they flirt in public?]
Not long after, Tan Qing dropped another comment—this time, a GIF.
A baby white fennec fox lay obediently on its back, all four paws up in the air. When someone scratched its chest with a finger, it opened its mouth to bite, but its teeth hadn’t fully grown in yet.
Refusing to be outdone, Zhu Lianzhen hurriedly messaged Ah-Xu for help finding more pictures.
Ah-Xu: “Are you two cavemen? Using wild animals as stand-ins for each other?”
In under three minutes, Zhu Lianzhen found a GIF of a baby snow leopard being picked up by the scruff of its neck by a keeper. It looked completely at someone’s mercy, so he immediately replied to Tan Qing with it.
[Cub, your pic isn’t moving.]
[I’m dying, dummy. Do you not know how to post gifs in Weibo comments?]
[You’re such a big Zhuzhu-bao -ε-][mfn]Zhuzhu-bao = nickname meaning Piggy bun 
[/mfn]
[Listen to Mama, switch to the international version already! We can’t let him win!]
After skimming the fan comments, Zhu Lianzhen quickly downloaded the new app and re-uploaded the GIF. This time, it actually moved.
[Acemon Tan Qing: Cheating.]
[Acemon Zhu Lianzhen: Childish.]
[Hahahahaha busted]
[You two are equally matched, neither of you can talk]
[Kissy-ge is so strict]
[Thanks for feeding us with this content]
[Are you both secretly furries?]
Influenced by the back-and-forth, a lot of fans started collecting animal photos too. At first, it was just a way to cope by finding a temporary fix, but along the way, they stumbled across news reports and gradually became more aware of how environmental destruction and human activities were harming wild animals.
Later, Idealism magazine announced that part of the proceeds from that issue would go to wildlife protection organizations. Not long after, many fans began voluntarily spreading awareness and donating to conservation causes.
Naturally, this left a strong positive impression on the public. Acemon received praise from media outlets for “setting a good example.”
With a rare day off on the weekend, Zhu Lianzhen was sick of eating takeout, so he decided to cook noodles instead.
The ingredients in the fridge were all fresh, as Tan Qing had restocked just the day before. From that, Zhu Lianzhen deduced that Tan Qing’s current meal plan must’ve been focused on being “utterly tasteless.”
Once the water boiled, Zhu Lianzhen tossed in a handful of noodles. After a moment’s thought, he threw in another portion.
While waiting, he went upstairs, stopped outside Tan Qing’s room, and asked, “Hungry?”
Tan Qing was reading a script. “I just had coffee.”
Zhu Lianzhen: “I’m boiling noodles, but the foam keeps spilling over. Come take a look for me.”
Tan Qing looked up at him.
Zhu Lianzhen made an “Uh” sound. “Never mind. You keep working.”
But Tan Qing closed the script and followed him into the kitchen.
A new layer of foamy bubbles had already begun to rise over the pot. Zhu Lianzhen was about to pour in half a bowl of cold water when he turned and saw that Tan Qing had already picked up the ladle and started handling it for him.
While stirring, Tan Qing said, “You put in too many noodles. Next time, just grab the amount you can hold between two fingers.”
Zhu Lianzhen agreed, but in his head he thought: Of course I know I put in too much—why else would I be adding more water?
Tan Qing noticed another pot of clear-broth pork ribs next to the stove and lifted the lid to check on it. Then he swiftly chopped the vegetables on the cutting board, mixed the seasonings, and tossed everything into the wok.
Zhu Lianzhen stood off to the side with nothing to do, dazzled by the sight. In the end, he just took out two bowls and set the table.
Tan Qing neatly finished everything for him, then turned and asked, “Anything else you want to eat?”
Zhu Lianzhen: “No.”
So Tan Qing washed his hands, ready to head back to his room.
“You’re not eating?” Zhu Lianzhen stopped him again. “There’s too much. I can’t finish it by myself.”
Even the table was set for two. It was rare for him to offer a gesture like this, and he didn’t think Tan Qing would turn it down.
Tan Qing parted his lips, just about to reply, when a voice suddenly called out from behind them. “Damn, that smells amazing!”
Koty appeared, following the scent with a deep inhale.
Zhu Lianzhen also took a long breath, then rolled his eyes.
Tan Qing let out a soft laugh. “Xiao Zhu accidentally made too many noodles and can’t finish. Help him out.”
“Gladly! I’m here to shoulder your burden!” Koty immediately rolled up his sleeves and went to wash his hands.
Zhu Lianzhen frowned. Why does this human garbage disposal get all the perks?
Whatever. He’d only been paying attention to Tan Qing’s eating habits on a whim. Whether he was hungry or not wasn’t any of his business. If he wanted to live off salad and coffee, so be it. It’s not like he’d starve.
Koty dug in with gusto, raving about the rib dipping sauce as he ate. At one point, he looked up and noticed Zhu Lianzhen glaring at him.
“What’s wrong?” Koty paused mid-bite.
Zhu Lianzhen: “Ungrateful.”
“?” Koty looked completely baffled. He lowered his head in silence and continued eating pitifully.
