FIG CHAPTER 31

They reached the “gravesite” soon enough.

It was in a small town on the outskirts of Ronggang. On the way there, they had passed vast stretches of farmland, much of which had already been abandoned. There were no residential areas nearby, so filming here wouldn’t disturb any pedestrians.

“Long time no see!” The man walking toward them was Qiu Hao, the chief director for this season’s group variety show. “Even though it’s a bit late to say this, congrats on your new song winning an award.”

He shook hands with each member and chatted a bit, adding with particular emphasis, “My first job after graduation was doing post-production on the first season of your variety show. Can’t believe I’ve made it to chief director now, and you guys still haven’t disbanded!”

Coming in with jokes right off the bat helped the members relax. Qiu Hao wasn’t much older than they were, so it seemed like this season’s production team would be easy to work with.

After putting on their mics, they followed the staff toward the studio. Ji Yunting couldn’t help but ask, “Why are we filming the first episode at night? Are you guys at least feeding us?”

Before anyone could answer, Fu Rong asked, “Is that a school up ahead?”

They looked forward and, in the glow of the setting sun, saw an outdoor basketball court not far away, with a red-brick building in the background.

Qiu Hao told them, “Oh, that’s an abandoned school campus. We’re using the gym today.”

When they reached the school gate, they saw the words “Ronggang No. 36 Middle School” engraved on the stone wall. Zhu Lianzhen asked Ji Yunting in confusion, “Ronggang has a No. 36 Middle School? Never heard of it.”

Back when Zhu Lianzhen was graduating from elementary school, Ji Yunting had already started high school. He tried to recall, but the name didn’t ring a bell.

“It’s normal that you haven’t heard of it. This school’s been abandoned for a long time.” Qiu Hao smiled. “Maybe your parents’ generation would remember it—back then, it was a top-tier city school.”

“Then why was it shut down?” Tan Qing asked.

Qiu Hao didn’t answer. He pressed his lips together, shook his head slightly, and lowered his voice. “Better not talk about that today.”

His reaction was strange enough to make Zhu Lianzhen frown. Koty immediately sensed something was off too. He hurried a couple of steps forward and nudged Zhu Lianzhen’s arm, whispering, “What does he mean by that? Don’t tell me someone died here?”

Zhu Lianzhen wasn’t afraid of that kind of thing, but he knew Koty was superstitious. So he deliberately said, “It’s Qingming Festival today.”

Koty’s face instantly darkened. He clicked his tongue and said, “Don’t scare me like that.”

Luckily, the set was filled with staff, and Koty quickly slipped into the crowd, which helped distract him from overthinking.

The gymnasium was brightly lit. In the center of the venue, five machines with display screens were neatly lined up in a row. Behind each machine was a chair, and each seat was separated by a long partition. It was clear the setup was meant for the five of them to sit down.

Since they had no idea what the director had planned, they simply sat in order of age. On the table in front of them were four buttons labeled A, B, C, and D—props that looked like they were meant for a quiz segment.

After the clapperboard snapped, the official recording began.

“Acemon debuted seven and a half years ago. After going through so much together, you all must have developed a deep sense of understanding with one another, right?” the director said into the mic.

The group mumbled back, “Not really.”

“To test how much you truly care about the group, we asked fans on Acemon’s site to send in their most unforgettable memories over the years. Some are about individual members, others about moments you shared together.”

Zhu Lianzhen: “Koty, heads up—they’re about to dig up your dark past.”

Qiu Hao continued reading from the script. “Now, compared to the fans, do you members really understand each other as deeply as you should after seven years? The production team has gone through all the fan submissions and picked out some moments worth commemorating. After you hear each question, please select your answer using the buttons in front of you.”

“Note: if more than three questions are answered incorrectly by the group, you’ll face a serious punishment.”

“What punishment?”

“You’ll find out when the time comes,” Qiu Hao said. “First question—this one’s a personal one. As we all know, Leader Ji Yunting once had his heart broken. He famously wrote a long post on Qzone[mfn]Qzone is a social networking site[/mfn] titled, ‘The most painful thing about love isn’t separation, it’s standing still thinking you can still go back,’ which was reposted over ten thousand times…”

Ji Yunting nearly gagged as soon as he heard the title and tried to shut it down. “I never wrote that!!!”

Memories long buried came flooding back, tormenting his pride. Not only did his teammates look at him in disbelief, but even the staff behind the cameras got goosebumps.

Fu Rong: “So disgusting.”

“I need to explain.” Ji Yunting started to blush in a panic. “I’m sure all of you had an emo phase in school. I was like fourteen or fifteen when I wrote that. It’s been years—can we not bring it up?”

Tan Qing: “So that was your pre-debut masterpiece?”

Ji Yunting: “My masterpieces are the songs I’ve written!”

“But that post really was famous,” Koty said. “I read it back when I was first learning Chinese. Not gonna lie—it made me cry. Only found out later that it was written by our leader.”

Zhu Lianzhen gloated, “What? Fourteen or fifteen? How come I wasn’t doing cringy emo stuff at that age?”

Ji Yunting didn’t back down. “Don’t get cocky. When you were sixteen, you cried after losing an argument on an Ultraman forum. I remember exactly how you looked.”

“I was already in high school by then. Why would I still be on an Ultraman forum… Wait, no—I’ve never even been on one! Don’t make stuff up!”

After they had argued long enough, Qiu Hao finally began reading the question. “Listen carefully. When Ji Yunting published that post, which of the following was the username he used?”

A. When Night Falls
B. Get Lost, Ambiguity
C. Hiding Pain with a Smile丶
D. You Make the Stars Shine

“Damn it, I feel like I’ve used all of these at some point.” Ji Yunting instinctively grabbed his hair with both hands, wishing he could lift himself up like this and fly off the Earth.

Tan Qing gave it some serious thought. “Let’s go with C.”

Koty: “Huh? Are we allowed to openly discuss the answers?”

“Well, he probably wouldn’t even get it right himself,” said Fu Rong.

“I think it’s A. The traditional characters give it that old-school feel,” Zhu Lianzhen said. “But B also sounds like something he’d pick.”

Ji Yunting couldn’t help interrupting. “Aren’t any of you going to ask me what I think?”

The group fell silent.

Ji Yunting said, “If I remember right, it should be D.”

Fu Rong looked skeptical. “Are you sure? Sounds like you just picked the one that looks the most normal.”

“I’m sure. Let’s go with D.”

Since the segment was a team challenge, the best way to avoid punishment was for all five members to choose the same answer. Under Ji Yunting’s insistence, they all pressed D.

After the countdown, the dry ice machines next to their seats hissed loudly and sprayed white mist, blowing their hair into disarray. The screen in front of them then revealed the correct answer: “C.”

Qiu Hao explained, “According to screenshots submitted by fans, C was his username, A was the name of his Qzone page, and B was his personal tagline. As for the D you picked, we just made that one up as filler.”

Fu Rong: “So he really did just pick the one that looked the most normal.”

“Second question. Now look at the screen—”

A photo appeared on the LCD screen. It was a screenshot from a previous outdoor variety show. Everyone else was walking normally along the road, except for Koty and Zhu Lianzhen, who were in the back, punching and kicking each other.

“What were the two of them fighting about at that moment?”

A. They both thought the other was colorblind.
B. They got into an argument about a plane flying in the sky.
C. Koty tripped Zhu Lianzhen on purpose.
D. Zhu Lianzhen was grumpy after waking up.

Tan Qing said, “Let’s go with B.”

“Don’t just pick the longest answer. What’s there to argue about with a plane?” Ji Yunting said. “Based on what I know about them, it has to be either C or D.”

Fu Rong studied the lighting in the photo. “This was taken around noon.”

“It’s definitely C,” Zhu Lianzhen said firmly. “To be honest, Koty tried to trip me again like ten minutes ago outside. What’s wrong with this guy!”

Koty himself wasn’t too sure what had happened in the photo. After all, he and Zhu Lianzhen messed around so much that they basically couldn’t talk without roughing each other up a little.

“Let’s go with C, then.”

All five of them pressed the button at once, only to be greeted again by a sudden blast of dry ice.

Zhu Lianzhen’s bangs were blown straight up. He squinted through the mist. “It wasn’t right?”

“The correct answer was B! Strange—Tan Qing has already gotten two questions right. Why doesn’t anyone listen to him?” Qiu Hao said. “We’ve got the full video for this part. Let’s take a look.”

The screen began playing the scene from the question.

Everyone was walking down the road. Zhu Lianzhen looked up at a plane in the sky and said, “Did you know that if you eat a hundred planes, you can make a wish?”

Right after he said it, Koty reached toward the plane, grabbed a handful of air, and shoved it into his mouth.

Zhu Lianzhen’s face changed instantly. “That’s mine! (bleep—)”

The two of them started tussling at the back of the group while the others continued walking without looking back. In the end, Koty gave in. “Alright, alright, I’ll give it back. Blegh—”

Zhu Lianzhen: “Get lost!”

…

After hearing the full account of the incident, everyone fell silent. Ji Yunting couldn’t help but ask, “You two were already adults at the time, right?”

Zhu Lianzhen hadn’t expected that he used to be so childish. He figured it had to be Koty’s bad influence. Embarrassed, he changed the subject. “Director, why are all the questions like this? Don’t you have any touching or serious submissions?”

Qiu Hao: “Are you sure you could even answer those kinds?”

Zhu Lianzhen: “Of course. We’re not that heartless.”

“All right then, here’s one.” Qiu Hao flipped through the script. “It’s about you and Tan Qing.”

Zhu Lianzhen’s expression stiffened slightly.

“Question 3: During the MC segment of a certain concert, Zhu Lianzhen received a New Year’s gift from Tan Qing but hadn’t prepared one in return. How did Tan Qing react?”

A. “What’s the big deal? A hug between bros is enough.”
B. Took the gift back and pretended nothing happened.
C. “There’s nothing a kiss can’t solve.”
D. Said “Happy New Year” to Zhu Lianzhen.

After hearing all the options, Zhu Lianzhen: “…………”

This was way too weird—why this question?

And Tan Qing? Why had he suddenly gone quiet?

Koty got excited and started randomly mashing the buzzer: “DACACCCACD!”

Qiu Hao: “Don’t forget, if you get three wrong in a row, you’ll face a penalty. It’s getting risky. Want me to go easy on you?”

The members shouted in unison, “Yes!”

“Since Zhu Lianzhen was just brimming with confidence, this question must be way too easy for him. No challenge at all,” Qiu Hao said. “How about this: as long as Zhu Lianzhen can fully recount the conversation they had back then, I’ll count all three questions as correct. Deal?”

Deal, my ass!

Zhu Lianzhen’s eyes trembled slightly. He didn’t even remember what the New Year’s gift was, so how could he possibly recall the conversation?

Several cameras zoomed in on his face.

He absentmindedly pinched at his lips as he looked at the director, then down at the floor.

With everyone else quiet, his hesitation became especially noticeable.

Tan Qing let out a soft laugh, his voice drifting over from behind the partition. “You don’t remember?”

Zhu Lianzhen turned his face in his direction. “It’s been so long—remembering it would be a miracle.”

Besides, it had happened at a concert, in front of so many fans. Whether it was the gift or the conversation, it was clearly just fanservice.

Who would hold onto a line said during a staged performance… Oh, right. CP fans.

Zhu Lianzhen sighed inwardly. “Give me a hint.”

Qiu Hao said, “How about this—you tell us what the gift was.”

Zhu Lianzhen: “…That counts as an answer?”

Qiu Hao: “It counts as gossip. I’m asking on behalf of your fans.”

That did lower the difficulty. A gift should be something he could recall if he thought hard enough.

Zhu Lianzhen fell into silent contemplation, but his mind was completely blank.

Why couldn’t he remember anything? That made no sense.

Wait a second…

Crap.

Had he still not opened it to this day?

Qiu Hao narrowed his eyes as he watched the monitor. “Why do you look even more nervous than before?”

Zhu Lianzhen took a deep breath. “The gift’s kind of private. Not really something I can share in public.”

His tone clearly sounded like an excuse, and no one believed him. But then Tan Qing backed him up. “It’s true.”

Koty asked, “Then why didn’t you just give it to him in private? Why’d you have to do it at the concert?”

“Do all my actions have to follow strict logic?” Tan Qing replied calmly. “Sometimes I act on impulse.”

Since Zhu Lianzhen failed to complete the special condition the director gave him, question three reverted to the standard multiple-choice format.

Koty knocked on the partition beside him. “Kissy-ge, which one are you picking?”

Tan Qing stayed silent.

The countdown had already begun. Without an answer from Tan Qing, everyone had to make a choice based on instinct.

Sure enough, the dry ice machine started up again.

Several staff members in uniform stepped forward, grabbed their arms, and began escorting them out of the gymnasium.

“What’s happening now?”

“This punishment isn’t gonna be outside, is it? It’s already dark out!”

Night had fallen over the old sports field, and judging by the direction they were headed, Koty had a bad feeling.

They were being taken to the school building across the way.

Each member was pushed inside at the entrance, and when they turned around, the staff immediately locked the glass doors behind them, leaving the five of them alone in the building—even the cameramen didn’t follow them in.

“It’s really cold in this hallway,” Ji Yunting said.

The group looked around and noticed several surveillance cameras in sight. The corridor lights were dim, but still bright enough for them to see each other’s faces clearly.

They realized this was the filming location for the punishment segment. Judging by the setup, it really seemed like they were about to be subjected to something strange.

Just as they were thinking that, a loud zzzzzt of static came through the speaker above their heads, startling them with a jolt.

Everyone instinctively held their breath, and within that piercing noise, they could actually hear a few bursts of a girl’s laughter.

Koty reflexively cursed and grabbed the teammate next to him.

He remembered how the director had been secretive and hesitant when talking about the school before the shoot, and his face immediately darkened. “Isn’t this the first episode? What kind of idol group starts their variety show with a horror theme!”

Ji Yunting: “And they specifically picked the night of Qingming Festival to film. Looks like the quiz earlier was just a decoy—this is the main course.”

Zhu Lianzhen struggled to push off Koty, who was clinging to him and wouldn’t let go, then turned to ask Tan Qing, “Why didn’t you give us the answer earlier?”

Tan Qing looked at him, tilted his head slightly, and gave a half-smile. “No reason. Just a whim.”