FIG CHAPTER 36

The car was still moving, the road ahead slightly congested, so Zhu Lianzhen slowed down.

Back when they first met, Zhu Lianzhen hadn’t intended to get to know Tan Qing. Looking back now, he couldn’t help but wonder why Tan Qing had gone out in such freezing weather and ended up catching a cold.

A strange suspicion suddenly surfaced in his mind, but saying it out loud might seem abrupt.

“How could you be so lacking in common sense?” Zhu Lianzhen still chose to say it. “Back then, did you do it on purpose?”

His tone was light, as if making a casual joke. Tan Qing’s lips curled up as he turned his head slightly and asked in return, “If I had done it on purpose, would you not have helped me?”

Zhu Lianzhen fell silent, looked at Tan Qing, and reached out to touch his forehead. It was cool.

“Eyes on the road.” Tan Qing grabbed his hand and placed it back on the steering wheel.

Body temperature couldn’t be faked, but the reason behind a fever was something only Tan Qing had explained. Zhu Lianzhen didn’t even know why he was doubting it. Maybe it was because of what Tan Qing had said the day before. What did he mean by “guess how many times I faked it”?

The car pulled up in front of the dormitory. Turning off the engine, unbuckling the seatbelt, getting out… it should have been a routine sequence. But when Tan Qing tried to open the door, it was still locked.

He tried twice more, then looked back. “Xiao Zhu?”

Zhu Lianzhen was gripping his phone, his fingertip repeatedly pressing the volume button. After staring straight ahead for a moment, he finally gathered his words. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Mm.”

He wanted to ask whether those three keys had been left out deliberately where he would see them. He also wanted to ask whether the WeChat Moments post had been hidden from some people.

But what he ended up blurting out was, “Why did you buy that house?”

“Didn’t you already ask me that? On the day of the awards ceremony.”

The car fell silent for a moment.

“I opened that New Year’s gift,” Zhu Lianzhen said.

Tan Qing’s gaze went still.

Then he removed his hand from the door and sat up straight.

Zhu Lianzhen didn’t know where to fix his eyes, so he looked off somewhere randomly and went on, “I saw what was inside… and I also saw the handover date. What were you thinking back then?”

He hadn’t made it clear whether “back then” referred to buying the house or giving the gift. He wanted to see which one Tan Qing would respond to.

But Tan Qing simply took a deep breath and said helplessly, “It’s been so long already, there’s no point in talking about it. Don’t make it harder for me.”

Zhu Lianzhen looked somewhat serious. “If you had told me earlier…”

He hadn’t figured out how to finish the sentence.

Tan Qing finished it for him, though it came as a question, “Would the outcome have changed?”

Zhu Lianzhen looked a little lost and pressed his lips together without speaking.

Nothing would have changed. Nothing at all.

They still would have been found out, still would have had to part ways, still would have ended. How could something like that possibly outweigh each of their bright futures? Even if Zhu Lianzhen had known Tan Qing’s intentions earlier, it would’ve only given them a gentler, more dignified farewell.

But at the very least, he wouldn’t have had to avoid every encounter with Tan Qing for the past two years.

Zhu Lianzhen: “There’s one more thing.”

“Hm?”

“I want to check your phone,” he said. “I want to see the Moments post you made yesterday.”

Tan Qing didn’t move. He looked at him with a puzzled expression.

Zhu Lianzhen cut straight to the point, “Did you set it to be visible to only certain people?”

Tan Qing answered just as directly, “Yeah.”

No attempts to dodge.

Zhu Lianzhen got the answer easily, yet hadn’t figured out what to say next. So he just said, “Then that means you did it on purpose.”

Tan Qing didn’t seem fazed by the question and remained calm. “Mm, I did. So what?”

Zhu Lianzhen was speechless.

Not even pretending anymore, huh?

He asked, “Why’d you block others from seeing it?”

“I was sick and didn’t have the energy to reply to that many people,” Tan Qing explained.

“So letting me see it… was that your way of hoping I’d show concern?” Zhu Lianzhen looked at him. “If you wanted me to come, you could’ve just messaged me directly. What if I hadn’t seen the post?”

Tan Qing laughed. “Do you want me to admit that I deliberately led you into coming to visit me?”

“Isn’t that what you did?”

“Do you regret coming?”

Zhu Lianzhen shook his head. How could he regret that?

It was just that he had thought caring for Tan Qing was his own choice. But now he realized that this concern had already been preset by Tan Qing in advance. He had simply taken the bait without even knowing it.

Maybe there had been other moments when he unknowingly fell into the “traps” Tan Qing had set. Did that mean, in Tan Qing’s eyes, their relationship could only be sustained through this kind of roundabout approach?

Not knowing what to say anymore, Zhu Lianzhen ended up laughing. “So from now on, every time you say something, I’ll have to wonder if there’s a hidden meaning behind it? Can’t you just make things a bit easier for me and be more straightforward?”

Tan Qing leaned back against the seat, raised his head slightly, and spoke in a relaxed tone. “But if you could really stop caring, then even if every word I say has another meaning, what difference would it make?”

If Zhu Lianzhen could really let go of his doubts, then all of Tan Qing’s hesitation, evasive answers, and avoidance… would just be passing details, barely worth noticing.

As long as he could completely stop caring about Tan Qing…

But he did care.

Every single time, he cared.

All of a sudden, something landed on the windshield with a loud splatter, startling both of them inside the car.

Zhu Lianzhen looked up and saw water streaked across the glass.

Koty stood on the second-floor terrace, holding a hose, his voice calling down, “What are you two doing in the car for so long!”

Zhu Lianzhen unlocked the door, got out of the car first, and looked up to flip him off.

Back at the dorm, the first thing he did was feed the cat, but Zhu Lianzhen found that Naisi had already eaten.

Fu Rong had probably filled the bowl—he always had a bad attitude toward people but was patient with small animals. He didn’t even get mad when Naisi scratched at his door.

“Is Tan Qing better now?” Ah-Xu sent a message.

Zhu Lianzhen: “Yeah.”

Ah-Xu sent a smirking emoji, then asked: “How did you take care of him?”

“Just bought him medicine.” Zhu Lianzhen cut off her chance to gossip.

“You didn’t say anything extra when you brought it to him?”

Zhu Lianzhen: “What else would I say? ‘Darling, time for your medicine’?”[mfn]This is a line from a Chinese novel, where a wife is feeding her husband medicine, which she has secretly poisoned.[/mfn]

Ah-Xu: “……”

After a few days’ break, it was time for their group livestream again.

Qiu Hao showed up too, planning to record some material they could use for the group reality show. As soon as he entered, he directed the staff to clear the living room and started bringing in cameras, monitors, and some strange wired devices.

Ji Yunting looked at him uneasily. “Director Qiu, what are you trying to do—give us electroshock therapy?”

“Relax, it’s just for a little entertainment effect.” Qiu Hao asked them to take off their outerwear and cooperate as the staff strapped sensors to their chests and fingers.

After the devices were connected, Qiu Hao turned on the monitor. The screen showed five split views, each displaying a line graph linked to a number.

“These are your current heart rates,” Qiu Hao said. “There are rumors saying your group doesn’t get along, so I want the fans to see for themselves just how sincere you are toward one another.”

Zhu Lianzhen raised his hand. “No need to measure! I can confirm all the rumors are true!”

The five of them sat on the sofa, cameras set up in front of them, and the livestream began.

Qiu Hao asked, “Be honest: if Acemon lost you, do you think the group could still go on successfully?”

This kind of question, if asked in any normal idol group, would get an immediate and unanimous denial. But Acemon’s members only responded with, “Isn’t that obvious?”

“If I’m gone, of course the group won’t work!”

“Every group needs a soul, and who is that person? I don’t think I need to spell it out.”

“The others will definitely argue with me for saying this, but deep down, everyone knows I’m the core of Acemon.”

The comment section flooded the livestream screen.

[You think Zuige Entertainment can still run without me? They’re just barely scraping by.]

[Just joined, why is it so chaotic in here already?]

[First-time commenter here. Starting a fight: who’s the real ace of the group?]

[Everyone is the ace, that’s why the group’s called ACEMON, lol. You really expect us to believe you’re a new fan]

The monitors showed that each of their heart rates remained in the normal range, clearly indicating that something like “team spirit” was a non-issue and didn’t challenge them at all.

Qiu Hao switched to another question. “If you had the chance to start over, would you still debut with these four?”

When the question came up, they didn’t jump to answer like before. Instead, their expressions turned serious.

Zhu Lianzhen thought about it. He probably would. He valued his teammates’ skills and talent. Back then, they had all been selected from the pool of trainees against overwhelming odds, and time had proven they were up to it.

But still, who in the group would actually answer “yes” to a question like that? That would be so cringe!

They stayed silent, glancing at each other to read the room.

Finally, Ji Yunting spoke up. “Nah, I don’t think we’re cut out to work together. Bumping into each other now and then is fine, but seeing each other every single day? We’d all just get sick of each other…”

The others nodded repeatedly, but at that moment, Koty looked at the screen in surprise and said, “Leader, why did your heart rate just jump up by twenty!”

Zhu Lianzhen: “He lied?”

Koty: “Ew, don’t tell me you actually like us? Is that for real?”

Fu Rong: “Disgusting.”

Tan Qing: “So you were just saying the opposite of what you really feel.”

“I wasn’t!” Ji Yunting denied flatly. “It’s just too hot in here, so my heart was beating a bit faster. Where’s the remote? Turn on the AC already!”

“When it’s time to be harmonious and friendly, you all go mouthing off, but the moment you’re given a chance to be honest, you turn all timid,” Qiu Hao said. “Seriously, what’s wrong with this group?”

Meanwhile, fans in the livestream chat were congratulating Tan Qing on wrapping up his latest film and trying to get him to reveal some details about it. But Tan Qing was tight-lipped, and no matter how cleverly they tried to trick him, he resolutely refused to give any spoilers.

Koty asked him, “Are there any crying scenes?”

“Don’t remember.”

“Lame! You can’t even tell us that!” Koty bumped his shoulder. “Come on, show everyone your special skill. The one where you cry within fifteen seconds.”

“Why would you want to see that?” Tan Qing laughed.

Once Koty brought it up, fans began sending messages hoping Tan Qing would demonstrate the skill.

In several of Tan Qing’s past films, he had performed crying scenes where the entire process was captured in uncut long takes, from building up the emotion to the tears falling. Even so, there were still haters and gossip accounts claiming he had used eyedrops beforehand or that the tears were CGI. Fans had always wanted a chance to prove his skills were real.

For Tan Qing, who studied drama, this was a piece of cake, so he agreed readily.

“Am I supposed to just stare into the camera and cry like this?” Tan Qing glanced at the others. “Someone come act with me.”

Zhu Lianzhen looked down at the floor, trying to avoid eye contact so he wouldn’t get picked.

However, Koty reacted faster, directly pushing him from behind. “You’re up!”

“Tch.” Zhu Lianzhen stumbled a step and ended up standing beside Tan Qing, forced to face him.

[Hahahahaha Koty really knows what we like!]

[You’re overthinking it. It’s Koty himself who wants to see this.]

[Is it starting? Fifteen.]

[Fourteen.]

The countdown began in the comments, and the rest of the teammates fell silent.

Zhu Lianzhen raised his head and met Tan Qing’s eyes. With so many people watching, his mind went blank. He tightened his lips, careful not to show any expression that might be overanalyzed.

What he needed to control even more was his heartbeat.

He glanced at the screen out of the corner of his eye. The number hovered around 80. He took a deep breath to keep it steady.

Among Tan Qing’s features, his eyes were the most captivating. He’d inherited their shape from his mother, naturally carrying a kind of unspoken allure.

And Zhu Lianzhen was an expert in one thing: completely missing that kind of allure.

To this day, he still couldn’t understand why everyone said Tan Qing could tell a story just with his eyes. Probably because they’d never experienced what it was like to go in circles with Tan Qing.

Tan Qing didn’t blink. He simply stared at Zhu Lianzhen’s face without moving a muscle.

When the countdown in the comments reached “five,” his lips moved slightly.

Zhu Lianzhen thought he was about to recite some line, but in the next instant, tears streamed simultaneously from both of Tan Qing’s eyes.

“Whoa—” The entire room, including the staff, gasped in unison. Even Zhu Lianzhen let out an involuntary “Oh.”

Tan Qing closed his eyes, squeezing out the remaining tears, then turned around and took a tissue from Ji Yunting to wipe his cheeks.

Just then, Fu Rong spoke. “What, does Zhu Lianzhen hit you in private? Why are you so afraid of him?”

[LMAO, Fu-jie always knows how to kill the mood]

[Ahhhh in just those ten seconds I imagined a whole 100k-word angst fic!]

[Why are you just staring? Screenshot it already]

[Kissy-gege’s skill is insane, no wonder he’s professionally trained.]

Zhu Lianzhen had no idea how he managed to cry in under ten seconds. Dancing relied on muscle memory, so maybe an actor’s tear ducts could be trained like that too.

“What’s going on with Zhu Lianzhen? His heart rate’s all over the place,” Qiu Hao’s voice rang out.

On the monitor connected to the sensors, the section corresponding to Zhu Lianzhen showed a stretch of dense, erratic lines. It was so abrupt, anyone could tell he’d just been nervous.

No, no, no, why was this happening? He didn’t even feel like his heart had been racing just now!

Zhu Lianzhen could only laugh awkwardly and follow Fu Rong’s joke, “I thought my secret of beating him in private was about to be exposed.”

Qiu Hao looked even more puzzled. “Wait, they were the ones making eye contact, so Koty, why did your heart rate spike to 120? What are you getting worked up for?”

[Hahahahahahaha]

[So what? My Chen-ge can’t ship it too?]

[Truly worthy of being QingZhen’s #1 shipper]

When Zhu Lianzhen sat back on the couch, he accidentally made eye contact with Fu Rong. There was a certain watchfulness in his gaze, like he had been waiting for that moment.

Zhu Lianzhen didn’t think too much of it and was soon distracted by the others.

The topics were all over the place, starting with fan questions that somehow led to talking about relationships.

Most idols would steer clear of such subjects, but they never shied away. They said what they thought—no filters. Being evasive only made fans more suspicious.

Ji Yunting was in charge of reading the comments aloud. “A question for Zhu Lianzhen: if you were to date someone, would you like a girl who’s passionate and takes the lead?”

Zhu Lianzhen didn’t expect to be the focus this time. He thought for a moment and replied, “I guess I’m okay with that.”

Before he became famous, girls often confessed to him. Sometimes, he’d come across ones with strong personalities who would block his path if he didn’t give a clear answer. He really hadn’t known how to handle that.

But since it was a fan asking, he felt that giving a more neutral answer was better, to avoid anyone taking it personally and feeling upset.

“Then what about the quiet and reserved type—the kind you’d have to take the initiative to pursue?”

Zhu Lianzhen thought about it and said, “I don’t know.”

He felt that he was the passive type when it came to emotions. Taking the initiative to chase someone wasn’t really his thing. He didn’t know how to say those sweet words to coax girls, and even if he did, he’d be too shy to actually say them.

“What about the bubbly, cute girl who acts sweet and says she loves you every day?”

Zhu Lianzhen frowned in confusion. “I can’t picture that.”

“Then the gentle type! The one who supports whatever decision you make, and quietly stays by your side when you’re tired.”

That sounded like someone whose personality wouldn’t really match his. Zhu Lianzhen chose his words carefully. “I guess it depends on the feeling.”

“You’re so much trouble!” Ji Yunting shot him a glance.

Zhu Lianzhen: “Then what type do you like!”

Ji Yunting: “Me? Of course I think every type has its own charm!”

Koty laughed and threw his arms around both of them. “That’s why the leader falls into the web of love so easily.”

After laughing, he immediately turned serious and explained to the camera, “Don’t worry, everyone. The leader hasn’t had any romantic stirrings in a long time!”

Ji Yunting pushed him away in disgust. “Where do you even learn these words?”

Thinking the conversation could finally move on, Zhu Lianzhen looked over at the comment feed, hoping to find something new to talk about.

But unexpectedly, Fu Rong cut in, “So you’re not planning to tell us what type you actually like?”

Zhu Lianzhen maintained a calm expression, as if the question wasn’t directed at him, until Koty nudged him, and he realized Fu Rong was talking to him.

His brain immediately went: Fuck.