FIG CHAPTER 37

This was definitely intentional. Fu Rong knew full well how much he hated this kind of topic, and he just wanted to watch him squirm. So mean.

The comment section was filled with agreement, and the ones leading the charge were his own fans. Damn it. Why was everyone like this!

Zhu Lianzhen tried hard to choose his words carefully. In the end, he could only come up with a generic answer, “It depends on the feeling! At least give me some examples, like movie characters or something. How am I supposed to choose out of thin air…”

Koty was clearly enjoying this kind of segment. He always spoke without a filter, especially since he was never the target. He asked, “Oh? Then, say we all gender-swapped—who would you pick?”

[Fuck, you guys are really going after him, hahahaha]

[Feels like every member of this group has 10,000 ways to tease Zhu Lianzhen.]

[Y’all really did genderbend yourselves just to force an answer out of him!]

Zhu Lianzhen’s expression darkened. He shook his head in protest. “You guys turning into girls? Can you not make me imagine something that weird!”

Koty replied, “We’re not talking about appearances. I mean personality. Or think of it this way: if you were a girl, who would you choose to date? And! One condition: we’re the only four people left in the world!”

As soon as he heard that, Zhu Lianzhen realized it was a setup. What, did they want to see his heart rate spike, or were they fishing for him to say “Tan Qing”?

No way he was giving Koty the satisfaction. “Then I’ll just stay single for life, what’s the big deal!”

Koty let him go, a little deflated. “Why do you get so embarrassed every time we talk about this kind of stuff?”

“This kind of question puts too much pressure on him.” Tan Qing turned to look over. “He’s never liked anyone before. How’s he supposed to describe his ideal type?”

Zhu Lianzhen’s fingers curled unconsciously into his palm.

[TQ-gege coming in to save Zhuzhu-bao, wuwuwu]

[Aww, that means our Lianlian is still an unripe apple]

[Someone’s words were ambiguous! ‘Never liked anyone but me,’ that’s what he meant, right?]

[Can you CP stans not lose your minds in public pls. The teammates can’t keep the stream on track with y’all around]

[Really though? Never liked anyone? Not even a crush back in school?]

[Okay okay, let’s not fixate. Some people are late bloomers when it comes to love.]

…

With Tan Qing wrapping up the conversation, the topic finally moved on, but Zhu Lianzhen didn’t feel relieved.

Don’t read too much into his words. Don’t overthink the hidden meanings.

He knew that logically, but thoughts were never something that could be controlled at will.

—How could I have never liked anyone?

Even if it was just something said for the sake of appearances on camera, Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t help mentally refuting it.

The group messed around a little longer, and finally, the livestream ended.

Zhu Lianzhen took a shower, and when he came out, he didn’t see any sign of Naisi. But since it was shedding season, he followed the trail of cat fur on the floor and found that Naisi had wandered up to the second-floor terrace.

Tan Qing was there too, holding a small shovel and crouched on the ground, loosening the soil in a flower pot. When he heard the door open, he glanced back.

Zhu Lianzhen whistled at Naisi, but the cat just sat there quietly, gazing at him. When the whistling stopped, Naisi turned back and fixated on the shovel in Tan Qing’s hand.

Tan Qing found a smooth stone beneath the flower pot and tossed it to Naisi to play with. “Finished your thesis?”

“My advisor’s helping me revise it.” Zhu Lianzhen pulled over a chair and sat down. “Just now… how did you manage to cry so fast?”

“It’s a technique I learned in class. The teacher taught us how to quickly get into character and stimulate the tear glands.” Tan Qing finished tending to the plants, brushed the dirt off his hands, and stood up to wash them.

With some noise in the surroundings, it was easier for Zhu Lianzhen to relax. He asked again, “So it’s just practice makes perfect?”

“You can also think of any emotional memory that helps stir your feelings. But emotional memory isn’t always reliable long-term. Not blinking for a while can also make your eyes automatically produce tears.”

Zhu Lianzhen believed him. But could just ten seconds of not blinking really stimulate the tear glands like that? Wouldn’t that mean something was wrong with your eyes?

Clearly, Tan Qing had used the first method.

If an actor wanted to enter an emotional state, they always had to recall the pain and sorrow they had once experienced. That undoubtedly required the courage to reopen old wounds.

And what Zhu Lianzhen wanted to know was—did Tan Qing’s memories include the feelings between them?

“That’s good then.” Zhu Lianzhen forced a smile and continued the topic. “I almost thought you were recalling something related to me just now.”

The sound of running water stopped abruptly.

Tan Qing flicked the water off his hands and silently looked out into the distance at the night sky. The sky was a deep shade of purple, the moon veiled by clouds, with only a scattering of stars visible.

There was nothing particularly worth admiring in that night sky, yet he gazed at it intently. When he closed his eyes, he once again skillfully regained control over his emotions.

Zhu Lianzhen waited, but Tan Qing still didn’t answer. Finally, Tan Qing turned around and smiled as he asked, “Why would you think that? Do you believe you’ve done something that made me sad?”

Zhu Lianzhen denied it, “Of course not! I’ve always been good to you, haven’t I!”

“Mm.” Tan Qing tilted his head as he looked at him. “That’s because you’re a good person to begin with.”

That’s not true.

I’ve always treated you differently from everyone else.

Zhu Lianzhen pressed his lips together.

“Let’s go inside,” Tan Qing said.

Zhu Lianzhen didn’t move and asked again, “Then, was there ever anything?”

He looked at Tan Qing, his eyes bright. “You once said your own matters weren’t important, so you wouldn’t tell me. But if it’s something about the two of us, at least that you can tell me, right?”

The evening wind blew quietly, granting them a moment of peace. Tan Qing looked at him and smiled. “Xiao Zhu, don’t you think you’re being unfair?”

Zhu Lianzhen froze for a second, and his eyes dimmed.

Tan Qing continued, “You’re the one who decided to keep your distance, but you’re also the one who keeps caring about me without knowing where the line is. You really are good at making things hard for me.”

Zhu Lianzhen opened his mouth, stunned, and hurried to explain, “I didn’t mean to. If you don’t want to answer, then don’t. Okay, okay, I won’t ask anymore.”

Sensing the atmosphere starting to chill, Zhu Lianzhen quickly whistled for Naisi. This time, the cat finally trotted over obediently.

He picked up the cat with one arm, held his phone in the other, and lowered his head as he walked toward the door.

Then he suddenly stopped, seeing something unexpected. Tan Qing, blocked behind him, asked, “What’s wrong?”

Zhu Lianzhen hesitated but ended up holding up his phone to show him.

It was a trending Weibo post, a fan’s recap of the livestream: “ZLZ’s ideal type: doesn’t like outgoing girls, doesn’t like introverted ones either; not into bubbly and cute, not into gentle and caring—might as well just write ‘I don’t like girls’ on his face 😏😏”

The comments were already filled with endless bickering between solo fans and CP fans.

“You could’ve just randomly picked one,” Tan Qing said. “Can’t even lie about something like that?”

Zhu Lianzhen exited Weibo and put away his phone. “No point in lying. It was just casual conversation.”

“You can still like girls?”

What?

Zhu Lianzhen froze for a moment and turned to look at Tan Qing. His face was calm, as if he had just said something completely trivial. Zhu Lianzhen thought he had misheard.

Tan Qing repeated, “You still think you can like girls?”

It sounded as if he had already decided Zhu Lianzhen was gay. Zhu Lianzhen was thrown off. He had never liked men to begin with, had never felt anything for any male other than Tan Qing, and had no interest in them.

But could he still like girls?

Or, more specifically: could he still like someone else other than Tan Qing?

It felt like a hidden secret had been openly dragged into the light. For a moment, Zhu Lianzhen felt ashamed, and his tone instinctively turned harsh. “What does that have to do with you?”

He hadn’t managed to control his tone, and as soon as the words left his mouth, even he realized how much it sounded like a flustered reaction after having his thoughts seen through.

He quickly softened his expression and tried to make up for it. “I’m not even thinking about that kind of thing right now.”

Tan Qing: “Just asking. No need to get nervous.”

That response annoyed Zhu Lianzhen even more. He took a step sideways, hugging the cat tightly and completely blocking Tan Qing’s path.

Having been tested by Tan Qing so many times, Zhu Lianzhen had learned that if he didn’t push forward, he’d get pulled under. Rather than being led around in circles by vague hints, he might as well confront things head-on. “Why would I be nervous? Isn’t it you who cares more? You’re the one who brought it up.”

Tan Qing lowered his head to look at him with a calm gaze, as if trying to see something hidden behind Zhu Lianzhen’s eyes.

“You’re right. It has nothing to do with me. I was out of line,” Tan Qing said.

Naisi suddenly meowed and started squirming, wanting to get down. Zhu Lianzhen lowered his head and gently stroked its head, saying slowly, “I wouldn’t say it was out of line.”

He glanced at Tan Qing and added, “It’s probably better if we both learn to be more upfront. Say what we mean; otherwise, it’s easy to get the wrong idea.”

“Can we really be upfront?” Tan Qing said with a laugh, the emotion in his eyes seeming to mock them both.

Zhu Lianzhen’s grip loosened and Naisi slipped from the crook of his arm. But just as it dropped halfway to the ground, Tan Qing quickly reached out and caught it. He gently handed the cat back into Zhu Lianzhen’s arms, and the space between them narrowed.

Tan Qing didn’t let go. His hand still supported the cat’s leg, and the back of his hand brushed against Zhu Lianzhen’s chest, faintly feeling his heartbeat. “If we really could be upfront with each other, don’t you already know what would happen, Xiao Zhu?”

It was as if something exploded in Zhu Lianzhen’s head. The instant his heartbeat quickened, he grabbed Tan Qing’s wrist and pushed it away.

His mind went blank. Eager to say something, he reminded him in a deep voice, “Don’t forget the agreement we made before. Th-the ground rules.”

“I broke one?”

“You crossed the line,” Zhu Lianzhen said.

“Then how do you want to punish me?”

Zhu Lianzhen said nothing, just stared at him.

After a brief moment of eye contact, the emotion in Tan Qing’s eyes faded. He smiled and shook his head, putting some distance between them.

He spoke, unsure if he was asking or confirming. “You still want us to go back to being just regular friends.”

Zhu Lianzhen didn’t admit it directly. He only said, “The most stable, longest-lasting relationship is friendship. Isn’t it?”

Even if that friendship was just a fragile facade, at least it could protect them, make their relationship above reproach, and prevent it from ending so easily.

“Yeah, our relationship used to be so normal,” Tan Qing echoed softly. “When did it start to go wrong?”

Zhu Lianzhen didn’t know how to respond.

“What are we now? Does this count as ‘friends,’ the way you define it?” Tan Qing asked.

“It doesn’t. But this isn’t bad either.”

“Then do you want things to stay like this?” Tan Qing lowered his eyes and stared at him, his voice softening.

Zhu Lianzhen looked down in silence. His racing heartbeat was the clearest answer—one he couldn’t lie to himself about.

But he couldn’t speak the truth, and he didn’t want to lie.

Even without a reply, Tan Qing seemed to understand. He nodded and smiled. “Alright, then let’s pretend we’re friends.”

Zhu Lianzhen lifted his head to look at Tan Qing.

He wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted to hear. All he knew was that looking at Tan Qing in that moment made his chest feel tight. There was something inside him straining to break free, but he had no choice but to hold it in.

Who was it that always seized every opportunity to stir up his emotions? Who was so skilled at using his softness against him, trying to make things difficult?

Just a moment ago, he had been pretending to scold him for “not knowing where the line is,” and now he was already crossing the line, as if nothing had happened.

And this kind of person had the nerve to say he was being unfair?

Who was really making things hard for whom?