Tan Qing liked the hazy morning light. He had discovered this when he was eighteen.
In the days leading up to their debut, every day was filled with nervous tension. Zhu Lianzhen often stayed up late writing songs and would fall asleep right there in the living room. Tan Qing, who got up early the next morning, would gently persuade him to return to bed.
Back then, Tan Qing always rose early to prepare breakfast for the two of them. Many people might have considered it a tiresome chore, but he never did. Perhaps it was the clearest example of what people called the warmth of everyday life—something that gave him a small but real sense of belonging in the world.
That day, Zhu Lianzhen had once again fallen asleep at the table. The Wi-Fi signal in the living room was stronger, and he was always too lazy to go back to his room. Tan Qing walked quietly, removed his headphones, and saved the audio file on his computer.
He didn’t rush to wake Zhu Lianzhen. Instead, he went to the kitchen and started cooking. He figured the sound of frying eggs might wake him. If it did, he would likely go back to his room on his own. If not, it meant he was truly exhausted and might as well sleep a little longer.
While waiting for the milk to heat up, Tan Qing looked out the window.
The morning light was faint. The outlines of the tall buildings blended into the gray-blue sky. The sunrise was especially vivid that day, a rich orange glow with halos of light layered under the clouds like sheer fabric.
It was a beautiful morning.
In that moment, Tan Qing felt a strange sense of peace. If only every morning could be like this.
When the milk in the pot began to bubble, he snapped out of his thoughts, turned off the stove, and brought the dishes to the table, trying to make as little noise as possible.
Zhu Lianzhen woke up, not from the sound, but from the smell of toast and bacon sizzling in butter. He opened his eyes groggily, realizing he was both hungry and sleepy, unsure which urge to satisfy first.
So he did something without thinking: he kept his eyes closed, opened his mouth, and waited for Tan Qing to feed him.
Tan Qing pressed the warm milk cup against his cheek and said softly, “It’s not good for your stomach to eat before sleeping. You’d better go back to bed and nap a bit more.”
Zhu Lianzhen shook his head and stood up, still with his eyes closed, mumbling, “Come here for a second.”
Tan Qing stepped closer, and Zhu Lianzhen immediately relaxed his whole body and fell forward.
Right into Tan Qing’s arms.
This was Zhu Lianzhen’s usual way of acting spoiled, or just being a little unreasonable, with the people he was close to. As long as he fell forward without hesitation, the other person would instinctively catch him. And from that point on, they wouldn’t be able to shake him off and would have no choice but to agree to whatever he asked.
He knew this trick worked especially well on Tan Qing. Other friends, after seeing him pull it too many times, would either respond with equal shamelessness to break his act or simply step aside and let him fall.
But Tan Qing never did. Tan Qing always tolerated his mischief, just like now.
“You don’t even try to dodge,” Zhu Lianzhen said, growing increasingly self-conscious because of Tan Qing’s attitude.
“If you want to fall, I can just let you next time,” Tan Qing replied.
Back when Tan Qing had first met Zhu Lianzhen, he thought just being able to speak calmly with him was the most he could hope for. He never imagined that one day he’d become so used to catching Zhu Lianzhen and dragging him back to bed.
Zhu Lianzhen covered his eyes with his arm and complained, “It’s too bright. I can’t sleep.”
Tan Qing: “Just close your eyes.”
“I can only sleep if the room is completely dark…”
“You didn’t even turn off the lights when you fell asleep in the living room in the middle of the night.”
Zhu Lianzhen pulled the blanket over his head and stopped responding. Tan Qing stood there for a few seconds, then ended up finding something to secure the curtains more tightly, so the morning light wouldn’t leak through the gaps.
“Are you still going to dance practice this afternoon?” Tan Qing asked softly before closing the door. The person in bed was busy pretending to be asleep and didn’t answer. Tan Qing answered for him, “Then I’ll take a leave for you.”
Zhu Lianzhen raised his arm and waved it twice toward the door as a farewell gesture.
While washing the dishes, the morning sunlight had reached its most beautiful state. The air was cool, and gentle golden light poured over the windowsill.
It was the kind of good weather everyone praised, but Tan Qing couldn’t bring himself to feel excited about it.
At the time, he didn’t understand why he felt so low, nor where that sudden desire to hold on to a fleeting moment had come from.
It wasn’t until he stepped outside and habitually checked the calendar on his phone that he vaguely realized the source of his emptiness. Their debut was just around the corner, and they would soon be moving out of the dorm.
Which meant mornings like this one would never happen again.
He felt an emotion that could rightfully be called “regret.”
Tan Qing had always thought he preferred dusk, especially the kind that came after rain, when the clouds were painted red by the setting sun.
–
The rich aroma of coffee filled the air.
Tan Qing had accidentally made too much milk foam, and the extra had all been mixed into the milk oatmeal. As he stirred slowly, he heard a sound behind him and turned to ask, “How do you want your egg?”
“Well done,” Zhu Lianzhen answered instinctively, then quickly corrected himself. “Ah, no—like medium… I want a runny yolk, but not one that spills out.”
He had just finished showering upstairs and awkwardly came down wrapped tightly in a bathrobe, debating whether he should go back and change into something more proper.
Of course, the little bit of alcohol from last night hadn’t been enough to make him black out. Everything they’d said in the dark was crystal clear in his mind. Zhu Lianzhen’s head felt like it was about to explode, half-expecting Tan Qing to bring it up and seriously accuse him of something like stealing a kiss.
Tan Qing turned off the stove, and the house grew even quieter. Zhu Lianzhen didn’t even look carefully at what was on his plate, absentmindedly cutting his toast as he tried to make small talk. “Are you done eating?”
“My lips are cracked. Can’t eat,” Tan Qing said, taking a sip of coffee.
“For real?” Zhu Lianzhen froze for a second, trying to recall if he’d tasted blood last night. “No way, I didn’t go that hard. Don’t pin it on me.”
“What are you thinking?” Tan Qing put down the cup and looked down at him. “I just messed up with the razor earlier.”
Zhu Lianzhen didn’t even have a spare electric shaver at home, just a disposable one that Ah-Xu had taken from a hotel long ago and left in the bathroom drawer. For Tan Qing to even find something stuffed away like that was impressive.
“Does it hurt?” Zhu Lianzhen was startled by his own tone as soon as he spoke—why was he being so cautious? “Did you put on medicine?”
“Mm.”
The atmosphere that morning was awkward.
Zhu Lianzhen buried himself in his breakfast, occasionally glancing up at Tan Qing. When he noticed Tan Qing staring out into the courtyard, he followed his gaze.
No gardener had come by this year, and with all the recent heavy rain, the plants in the yard had grown wild. The flowers they’d once planted had all died, and the only thing barely surviving was that scrawny lemon tree.
Zhu Lianzhen knew Tan Qing took meticulous care of his plants at home, so he was probably silently judging him right now.
Halfway through his coffee, Tan Qing asked, “If you weren’t afraid of heights, do you think you’d enjoy living somewhere high up?”
“Probably, yeah. The view of the city is really great from up high, like your place.”
“You’re not afraid of heights at my place?”
Zhu Lianzhen thought carefully and realized that every time he’d visited Tan Qing’s home, he could stand out on the balcony and admire the view without ever backing away because of the height.
He remembered the apartment had originally come with a huge open balcony, but before moving in, Tan Qing had hired a designer to rework the layout, turning it into a fully enclosed space. There were no other floor-to-ceiling windows in the house. When looking down from up high, the closed-off view prevented him from seeing the drop directly at his feet, which effectively eased any fear of heights.
At that moment, a strange thought suddenly crossed Zhu Lianzhen’s mind: could it be that the renovation had been done with his fear of heights in mind… But that had been Tan Qing’s first personal property purchase after debuting and earning money. Why would he make such a drastic change for a friend who didn’t even visit that often?
“Yeah, your balcony’s enclosed. It doesn’t feel that high,” Zhu Lianzhen said, keeping his head down as he ate. “It’s kind of a shame, though. The view used to be amazing.”
Tan Qing set down his cup. “Plants are hard to take care of. They all have different needs—some like sunlight, some dry out easily, some fear the cold, some fear heights. When the environment is unified, it’s easier to adjust for them.”
See? That reason sounded much more reasonable.
Zhu Lianzhen held his spoon, only half catching the meaning, and nodded a beat late. “All that just for the flowers? Yeah, that makes sense.”
The topic ended there. Tan Qing reminded him, “Don’t forget to check the message in the work group chat. The one from 6:20 this morning.”
They had way too many chaotic work-related group chats. Zhu Lianzhen scrolled through them one by one to catch up on the message history.
“Hong Kong–Macau travel permit? What’s up with that? Are we going there for work?” Zhu Lianzhen actually enjoyed trips outside the mainland. Those kinds of shoots usually came with more generous rest time, giving him space to wander around at his leisure.
“Macau,” Tan Qing confirmed, glancing down at his phone. “Looks like it.”
They weren’t in a promo period, and they didn’t have any brand partnerships in Macau, so it could only be for a show. But most recent variety show invites had been declined by Pei Qiao, leaving only the group’s own variety show.
“What kind of content is there to shoot in Macau? It can’t be gambling, so… bungee jumping?” Zhu Lianzhen was honestly more interested in the food, but he knew if Qiu Hao was taking them all that way, it definitely wasn’t for something relaxing. The bungee jump at Macau Tower was famous, and plenty of domestic and international variety shows had filmed there.
Tan Qing shook his head. Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t tell if that meant “no” or “I don’t know either.”
“How high is the bungee at Macau Tower again? Two hundred?”
Tan Qing paused for a few seconds to search. “Two hundred thirty-three meters.”
Zhu Lianzhen quickly pulled out his calculator, tapped a few keys, and let out a sigh. “That tall? That’s like stacking 129 of me on top of each other.”
Hearing that kind of unit of measurement, Tan Qing couldn’t help but glance at him. His lips parted, hesitated, then closed again. In the end, he said nothing.
“If it really is bungee jumping, I’m done for.” Just imagining it killed Zhu Lianzhen’s appetite. The last time he’d bungee-jumped was a few years ago for a show, and that was only thirty or forty meters high. When the sensation of weightlessness swept through his body, he’d cursed out loud and sworn never to do it again in this lifetime.
But Ace Park was their show, so he couldn’t slack off. If the audience expected to see a shot of him leaping from a great height, then he’d just have to overcome his fear.
He put down his utensils, lost in thought.
After a while, he spoke in a low voice. “I think…”
Tan Qing: “Hm?”
“As a grown man, shouldn’t I challenge myself more—try things I haven’t done before, even if they’re a bit difficult?”
Zhu Lianzhen reached a conclusion and glanced at Tan Qing, asking for advice.
Tan Qing: “Advanced math?”
“Not that kind!”
Zhu Lianzhen looked out at the sky and made up his mind. “My fear of heights isn’t that serious. Maybe if I try it more, I’ll get desensitized. Besides, performing high up at a concert could be super cool. Should I start practicing now…?”
He trailed off, casting an uncertain glance at Tan Qing.
Tan Qing gave a small nod. “If you’re willing to challenge yourself, that’s definitely a good thing.”
“Then what level should I start with?” Zhu Lianzhen asked, still seeking advice. “Roller coasters? Hiking?”
Tan Qing: “The cable cars at scenic spots should work. They’re slow, and you can gradually get used to looking outside.”
“Mm, I happen to be free this week. I’ll look up places that aren’t too crowded…”
Zhu Lianzhen scrolled through photos of mountain landscapes with a focused look, though his attention wasn’t really there.
He had assumed that the moment Tan Qing offered advice, he would naturally also suggest going with him. After all, this was someone who used to go out of his way to create alone-time opportunities for them, and he was pretty skilled at it, too.
Clearly, Zhu Lianzhen had misjudged again. Tan Qing’s composed expression didn’t look at all like someone planning to join him on this “life-risking” journey.
It wasn’t that Zhu Lianzhen was unwilling to take the initiative and invite him, but the timing felt too off. Considering what had happened the night before, wouldn’t it seem like he was eagerly trying to plan a date?
Granted, he could live with being misunderstood by Tan Qing in that way… but Zhu Lianzhen knew perfectly well that Tan Qing was deliberately playing indifferent, waiting for him to make the first move.
That feeling of everything being under the other person’s control annoyed Zhu Lianzhen and made him want to push back a little.
“Koty doesn’t have any gigs lately either. I’ll ask him to come with me,” Zhu Lianzhen muttered, pretending to speak to himself.
Tan Qing washed the dishes and cleaned up. “Are you going back to the dorm today?”
“Yeah, Naisi is still in my room.”
“If you don’t want to make the trip, I can go help you look after it.”
Just as he said that, Zhu Lianzhen’s call to Koty connected.
Koty: “What?”
Zhu Lianzhen got straight to the point. “Are you doing anything these next few days? Cancel it all and come hiking with me.”
“You brat.” Koty sounded both exasperated by his attitude and surprised by the decision. “What made you suddenly want to go hiking? Aren’t you afraid of heights?”
“That’s exactly why I need to overcome it,” Zhu Lianzhen explained, laying out his thoughts. Koty listened patiently, then said thoughtfully, “Got it. You’re a masochist who enjoys torturing himself.”
“Cut the crap. Are you coming or not?”
“Fine, I’ll go. Happy now?” Koty agreed readily, then added, “Just the two of us?”
Zhu Lianzhen glanced at Tan Qing, who was washing cups. The sound of running water might’ve drowned out the conversation.
Just to be safe, Zhu Lianzhen lowered his voice to a bare whisper. “You think I actually want to go out alone with you?”
Koty’s head was instantly full of question marks. “Turning your back on me that fast?”
Zhu Lianzhen muttered, “You can invite someone else too, preferably someone I know.”
“With how little our social circles overlap, even if I brought someone, you’d have nothing to talk about.” Koty quickly ran through their mutual acquaintances in his head. Then, suddenly, he thought of something. “Hey, why not ask Kissy to go with you?”
Right at that moment, the faucet was turned off, and Koty’s voice rang out clearly through the room.
The air went still.
Only then did Zhu Lianzhen realize: Why is this on speaker?!
He usually preferred speaker mode at home when he was alone, whether for calls or video chats, because he couldn’t be bothered to hold the phone. He’d been too relaxed earlier and did the same out of habit. And since it was just Koty, it hadn’t seemed like something he needed to hide. Subconsciously, he might’ve even wanted Tan Qing to hear.
Koty, oblivious to how stiff Zhu Lianzhen’s expression had become, just kept going. “Ask him to go with you. He’s the one who’d actually drop everything for you, you know?”
His tone was so natural and certain that it left no room for doubt.
Zhu Lianzhen froze in his seat, not daring to look at Tan Qing, much less turn off the speaker. At this point, trying to cover it up would only make it worse. So he forced himself to continue the conversation with Koty. “If you want to ask him, you ask.”
“Me? As if I could convince him.”
Tan Qing dried the last drops from the cup, turned around, and raised his voice slightly. “How would you know if you don’t try?”
Zhu Lianzhen’s breath hitched as he cautiously looked up at him.
Tan Qing walked over calmly, while Koty sounded confused on the other end of the call. “Who just spoke? That wasn’t him, was it?”
Tan Qing picked up Zhu Lianzhen’s phone from the table and brought it to his mouth. “What’s the matter?”
“Huh?” Koty was confused. “Wait, huh? You’re with him right now? Hold on, don’t tell me you two didn’t come back last night?”
Tan Qing replied, “I’m heading back soon.”
“You two…” For once, Koty found himself in a situation where even he was at a loss for words. “I don’t even know what to say anymore.”
