After a few days of rest, everyone had to return to work.
Ah-Xu turned off the engine, got out of the car, handed the keys to Zhu Lianzhen, and picked up the conversation they’d been having on the way. “Looks like the leader’s luck is good this year. He wanted to be on a dating show and got it. Why don’t you try pushing for it again with Pei-jie?”
“She never even asked me. What am I supposed to push for?” Zhu Lianzhen said.
Ah-Xu let out a knowing laugh. “Ah, Pei-jie’s so focused on promoting your CP with Tan Qing, she swapped people out of that show. Doesn’t that mean…”
“Mean what?” Zhu Lianzhen pretended not to understand. “That Tan Qing’s blocking my love life?”
“It means the two of you are completely tied together on screen now. The company didn’t used to be this blatant, but now even a little interaction between you two might get edited into the show,” Ah-Xu said. “Better watch yourself, boss.”
Zhu Lianzhen was, of course, aware of that. “I think I’m already careful enough. You think everyone’s like Tan Qing—bold enough to flirt on camera?”
Just as he said that, they heard the crisp click of a lighter being flicked on from the second-floor terrace.
Zhu Lianzhen turned around and saw Tan Qing behind the railing, playing with a lighter and looking down at them.
A faint smile curved the corner of his lips, and he called down lazily, “I’m blocking your love life? My apologies, then.”
Zhu Lianzhen awkwardly averted his eyes and cleared his throat, motioning for Ah-Xu to leave quickly, then headed into the house and upstairs.
Tan Qing had already left the terrace, and they ran into each other in the hallway. Zhu Lianzhen greeted him first. “You got here early.”
“What’s wrong with how I act on camera?” Tan Qing asked, as if thinking aloud.
Zhu Lianzhen instinctively looked at the surrounding walls, but Tan Qing said, “While we were away, all the cameras in the dorm were taken down. They haven’t been set up yet.”
“Oh.” Zhu Lianzhen quickly explained, “Uh, I was exaggerating just now. I didn’t mean anything bad.”
“It’s fine. If you think I’m doing something wrong, just tell me.” Tan Qing looked at him gently. “After all, we’re practically tied together on camera. What if I mess up and drag you down with me?”
Zhu Lianzhen’s voice grew quieter. “You wouldn’t drag me down… I mean, you’re someone with principles.”
Tan Qing raised his hand and lightly pulled him a little closer, asking softly, “You trust me that much?”
Zhu Lianzhen didn’t respond. As he breathed in, he caught the faint scent on Tan Qing’s clothes, like soft cake or milk cookies. It was a scent that made people want to get closer.
“Then what if I occasionally feel like breaking a principle or two?” Tan Qing asked, his thumb stroking the small protruding bone on the side of Zhu Lianzhen’s wrist.
Zhu Lianzhen was tickled by the touch and grabbed his hand in return, muttering, “Then I must’ve already broken them with you.”
His reply seemed offhand, but Tan Qing paused for a moment, the curve of his lips deepening. “Really.”
A car could be heard pulling in outside—it was probably one of their teammates returning. The two stopped talking and naturally put some distance between them.
They had a magazine shoot today, and the studio was nearby, just a ten-minute drive away. The magazine held a significant position in the industry, and this time, it was a collaboration with a popular dessert chain that Acemon had recently started endorsing.
They finished shooting the material by late morning, but that was only half the workload. The coordinator told them, “Besides the flavors you’re promoting, there’s also a new limited-edition summer product launching next month. We’d like everyone to contribute some ideas. The brand’s R&D team is also here today.”
This meant that the type and flavor of the limited product would be decided by the Acemon members themselves, which immediately sparked their interest.
The editor sat down and began interviewing them. “What dessert flavors do you usually like best?”
“Chocolate!”
“Matcha.”
“Meat floss!”[mfn]dried/shredded meat 
[/mfn]
“Milk.”
“Any fruit flavor.”
Everyone answered at once, and it turned into a chaotic mess. The editor chuckled. “You guys really can’t agree on anything, huh?”
“Wait a second, who just said ‘meat floss’?” Zhu Lianzhen asked seriously. “How is meat floss considered a dessert flavor?”
Koty retorted, “What’s wrong with it? Meat floss is delicious. Cream alone is too greasy—it’s perfect as a combo.”
Ji Yunting, however, agreed with Zhu Lianzhen. “Meat floss has no place in the dessert world. That stuff belongs with plain rice porridge.”
“You guys aren’t just excluding me, you’re insulting all meat floss lovers!” Koty argued righteously, then turned to the editor. “Write down exactly what they said.”
Editor: “Alright, then let’s take meat floss off the list first.”
Koty: “?”
“Shouldn’t we decide on the type first?” Tan Qing suggested.
“Mm. The brand has prepared a lot of dessert ingredients for you. They’re mostly prepped in advance, so you can try combining and tasting them.”
The staff led them into the workshop. In the fridge were cake bases and tubs of ice cream in various flavors. The cabinets were filled with biscuits.
Although their dessert preferences differed, they all agreed on one thing: the product had to match Acemon’s style: it had to be cool!
No matter how many variations existed among popular desserts, the taste wouldn’t differ too much, so it was better to attract consumers through visual appeal.
So, it had to be cool!
The easiest dessert to style was probably the parfait.
Cream would lose its texture if left out too long, and there wasn’t any prepared in the fridge, so it had to be made fresh. The pastry chef said that if they got bored while waiting, they could try using the ingredients themselves—it was great for relieving stress.
Tan Qing got started, melting chocolate over a water bath and stirring it until it was smooth and rich. The entire room filled with a tempting aroma.
The editor noticed how skilled he was and asked curiously, “Tan Qing, do you often make desserts at home?”
“I used to make some. Just the simpler kinds,” Tan Qing replied.
Zhu Lianzhen stood beside him, eating a Pocky while watching him put the chocolate into a piping bag. He suddenly remembered a past Valentine’s Day when Tan Qing had made macarons for him at home. At the time, he’d thought Tan Qing was a little strange—after all, it was his birthday, yet Tan Qing was the one asking him what he wanted.
“It’s your birthday. Shouldn’t you be the one making a wish?” Zhu Lianzhen had said.
Tan Qing smiled. “Having you spend it with me already makes me really happy. I thought you’d go out with someone else today.”
“If I go out on Valentine’s Day and get photographed by reporters, then what? Didn’t Pei-jie say that on days like Valentine’s, Qixi, or Christmas, it’s best not to go out with friends, especially friends of the opposite sex?”
“And also,” Zhu Lianzhen continued, “spending your birthday with you is obviously the most important thing.”
His tone was casual and matter-of-fact, not out of politeness or for show.
At that time, they had already debuted for over a year. The birthday gift Zhu Lianzhen gave Tan Qing was a record player. He’d noticed Tan Qing liked listening to old songs and figured he might appreciate the feel of vinyl.
Zhu Lianzhen counted the candles for him and asked, “Don’t you feel bored having only me celebrate with you? Last year it was just the two of us, too.”
“If you like being around more people, I can invite others,” Tan Qing replied. “But for me, it’s not necessary.”
“As long as you’re happy, I don’t care.” Zhu Lianzhen more or less understood what Tan Qing meant. He probably just saw him as a friend. Their relationship had always been a bit closer than with the others.
He turned off the lights, and in the warm yellow candlelight, Tan Qing closed his eyes and made a wish.
The birthday cake had been chosen by Zhu Lianzhen. Tan Qing only took two symbolic bites. Zhu Lianzhen had wondered if maybe he’d chosen the wrong flavor, but Tan Qing shook his head and said, “I just don’t like sweet things. Don’t worry about it. It’s my fault for not telling you earlier.”
In fact, Zhu Lianzhen had long noticed that Tan Qing had very little appetite for food. Aside from his regular meals, he rarely snacked. Whether this was a personal habit or the result of the self-discipline of being an idol.
Zhu Lianzhen, on the other hand, was a foodie. Blessed with a naturally slim physique that never seemed to gain weight no matter what he ate, he not only had three full meals a day but also needed an afternoon dessert and a late-night snack. Although he didn’t eat much in one sitting, he often led those around him into indulgence as well—much to Pei Qiao’s annoyance.
But Tan Qing never minded. “You’re still growing.”
That kind of grown-up tone irritated Zhu Lianzhen. He would often secretly measure their height difference behind Tan Qing’s back, trying to estimate how long it would take for him to catch up. But Tan Qing grew even faster—he had reached 186 cm before he even turned twenty.
–
“She asked you a question,” Tan Qing reminded him quietly.
Zhu Lianzhen snapped back to reality and looked at the editor in confusion. “Huh?”
The editor smiled and repeated the earlier question, “Is there any secret to eating sweets while maintaining your weight?”
Zhu Lianzhen laughed awkwardly. “Eating’s never affected my weight.”
“Did you know eating too many sweets affects your brain?” Koty said with apparent seriousness, scrutinizing his face.
Zhu Lianzhen wasn’t in the mood to joke around with Koty. He was thinking about how, every single year since Tan Qing had joined the group, it had always been just the two of them on his birthday.
At first, he hadn’t thought much of it. But over time, that day had naturally become something shared between just the two of them. And now, looking back… wasn’t it intentional from the very beginning? On Tan Qing’s part?
“The cream is ready.” The pastry chef brought over a bowl and handed them a few parfait glasses so they could create freely.
Everyone added their favorite ingredients, layering them with cream and cake bases. They topped them off with chocolate chips.
The transparent cups looked pretty impressive, but something still felt off. Ji Yunting added two scoops of ice cream on top. Koty thought that looked too plain and threw in a wafer.
“This is a disaster!” Zhu Lianzhen stared at the concoction and quickly shoved in a few more blueberries and Pocky sticks.
Tan Qing drizzled the cooled chocolate sauce over everything. Just like that, Acemon’s summer limited-edition dessert was more or less completed. The group eagerly grabbed spoons and dug in.
It tasted terrible.
The random mix of flavors clashed completely, with no sense of balance.
“As expected of us!” Koty gave a thumbs-up.
In the end, the R&D team stepped in to help adjust the proportions so that the new product could at least qualify as a candidate.
After a full day of work, the group finally returned to the dorm to rest. Ji Yunting suggested going to the night market for dinner. He claimed to know a nearby place with very few young people, so even if they got recognized, it wouldn’t cause a scene.
Zhu Lianzhen took a shower after getting back to his room and changed into something cool and light. The others had already gone ahead to the barbecue place to get in line. Only Tan Qing was still waiting for him on the first floor.
“Let’s go.” Tan Qing put away his phone and stood up.
At the door, Tan Qing suddenly stepped closer to Zhu Lianzhen, reaching out his hand as if to touch his shoulder. Zhu Lianzhen’s heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively turned to look at him.
Tan Qing’s hand hovered in midair. Zhu Lianzhen’s reaction had been so abrupt that Tan Qing paused too.
It only took a split second for Tan Qing to realize why Zhu Lianzhen was nervous. He let out a soft laugh, then raised his hand higher to lift the metal cover on the circuit breaker on the wall.
“What, did you think I was going to kiss you?” Tan Qing lowered his head slightly to meet Zhu Lianzhen’s eyes, which were now avoiding him.
“No.” Zhu Lianzhen turned his face further aside, embarrassed by his own subconscious assumption.
“I just remembered I needed to turn off the light,” Tan Qing explained, flipping the main switch with a flick of his finger.
The large house was instantly plunged into darkness.
Zhu Lianzhen felt his face heat up. Just as he was about to head for the door, Tan Qing’s hand pressed down on his shoulder.
He couldn’t see anything, only heard his voice. “Now is the right time.”
Without any hesitation, Tan Qing kissed him.
His strength wasn’t forceful; he moved with careful control, gentle in rhythm, but it still left Zhu Lianzhen completely breathless. Their lips and tongues intertwined as Zhu Lianzhen’s back was pressed firmly against the wall. He had just begun to raise his hands when Tan Qing caught his wrists, holding him in place so he couldn’t move at all.
It wasn’t until a soft, involuntary whimper escaped from Zhu Lianzhen’s throat that Tan Qing finally eased up, slowly ending the kiss and letting go of his hands.
Zhu Lianzhen’s forehead was slightly damp with sweat, and he felt dizzy, sucking in deep breaths to steady his heartbeat.
After a while, Tan Qing asked, “Feeling better now?”
He sounded so concerned, as if he hadn’t just been the cause of all this. Zhu Lianzhen wanted to glare at him, but in the pitch dark, Tan Qing wouldn’t have seen it anyway.
Once his breathing returned to normal, Zhu Lianzhen suddenly reached out and grabbed Tan Qing’s sleeve, asking in a low voice, “When did it start?”
Tan Qing didn’t respond. Zhu Lianzhen knew he was looking at him.
Maybe it was the darkness, shielding their expressions, that gave Zhu Lianzhen the courage to keep going. Without thinking too much, he asked, “When did your feelings for me start becoming different from the others?”
Tan Qing was quiet for a few seconds before replying, “So you do care about things like that.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Tan Qing let out a soft sigh and said, “You’ve always been different. I’ve known that from the beginning—”
“That’s not what I want to hear,” Zhu Lianzhen cut him off, then slowly leaned forward, hesitating for a moment before saying, “You started liking me earlier than I realized, didn’t you?”
It was the first time since they’d reunited that he had said the word “like” out loud.
“Was it after we debuted? Or even before that?” Even though he was the one asking, Zhu Lianzhen’s face felt unbearably hot.
This time, Tan Qing was silent for a long while.
Finally, he answered in the dark, “Asking me so directly—can’t you leave me a little dignity, Xiao Zhu?”
