FIG CHAPTER 58

Tan Qing came back quickly. Not only did he buy the medicine, but he also brought a jug of purified water and a brand-new electric kettle. After all, no one could guarantee the hotel’s supplies were completely clean.

Koty was touched by how thorough Tan Qing always was, but when the cup was handed to him, he looked troubled. “Why is it a powdered mix? No capsules?”

Tan Qing replied, “This works faster.”

Koty pinched his nose and drank it. Zhu Lianzhen thought Tan Qing had deliberately bought bitter medicine for him. The phrase “sly devil” fit someone like Tan Qing perfectly.

“Get some sleep.” Tan Qing placed a cup of hot water on the bedside table.

Zhu Lianzhen stood up and told him, “Come on, let’s go downstairs for breakfast.”

The morning sun hadn’t yet risen above the tall buildings, only scattering golden light at the edges of the pale blue sky. Zhu Lianzhen had his hands in the pockets of his sports jacket and gradually slowed his steps. Taking a deep breath, he said, “There’s a summer smell in the air—can you smell it?”

His description was abstract, but Tan Qing understood right away and nodded. It had rained the night before, and the ground was still damp. Moisture from the soil was evaporating as the temperature rose. Plants were also releasing compounds through their metabolism, creating what we call the “smell of summer.”

They didn’t walk far before joining a long line in front of a stall selling pan-fried buns. Tan Qing stared intently at the bustling street corner. Zhu Lianzhen stood beside him for a moment, then noticed an empty table and quickly went to claim it.

He sat down and started thinking.

From what he remembered, Tan Qing had called him “Xiao Zhu” ever since joining the company. That made sense. It was a way to get closer, and using someone’s surname didn’t come off as overly familiar. In the group, the only person younger than Tan Qing besides himself was Fu Rong, but who would dare give Fu Rong a nickname? Tan Qing certainly wasn’t bored enough to go looking for trouble with him.

As for whether Tan Qing had used “Xiao Zhu” in front of the camera, Zhu Lianzhen truly hadn’t paid attention. But there was one thing he was sure of: fans almost never referred to him that way.

Given how fast stuff spreads in fan circles, if they had noticed Tan Qing using a special nickname for him, it would’ve become common knowledge by now.

He pulled out his phone and searched Tan Qing’s Weibo for the nickname, but the results came up empty.

Looks like Koty really hadn’t been talking nonsense.

Zhu Lianzhen clicked his tongue at the air, reluctantly accepting the fact that his observational skills might not even match Koty’s.

Tan Qing brought over the pan-fried buns and two bowls of sweet soy milk, setting them down on the table. Having breakfast outdoors was all about the atmosphere, and both of them enjoyed the slow-paced leisure. Zhu Lianzhen stirred the dipping sauce in the small dish with the tip of his chopsticks and said unhurriedly, “Want me to give you a nickname?”

The abruptness of the question made Tan Qing pause for a few seconds. “Didn’t you already give me one?”

Zhu Lianzhen’s thoughts stalled, then he suddenly remembered which one Tan Qing meant. “If you hadn’t reminded me, I’d have forgotten.”

“It’s normal not to remember something so small,” Tan Qing replied.

Zhu Lianzhen asked back, “Then why can you remember it so clearly?”

It was precisely because these things were small and seemingly insignificant that Tan Qing’s ability to remember them made Zhu Lianzhen feel unreasonably inferior in comparison.

Tan Qing gave a slight smile. “Maybe because my life used to be too dull. Unlike you, who has so many rich memories, I tend to remember even the unimportant stuff for a long time.”

“…” Zhu Lianzhen had thought he was already pretty good at reading between Tan Qing’s lines, but Tan Qing always managed to pack eight hundred meanings into a single sentence. His expression and tone were calm and poised, making it hard for anyone to accuse him of passive-aggressive sarcasm.

But no—this was definitely sarcasm! That was a roundabout way of complaining that he didn’t care enough.

Zhu Lianzhen took several sips of soy milk in a row just to suppress his urge to retort.

A long silence followed. The two of them ate quietly, while the surroundings remained lively. Zhu Lianzhen found himself drifting into memories from before their debut. One particular image crashed into his mind: him writing the word “Kissy” with a black ink pen on paper.

＊＊＊

After Zhu Lianzhen graduated from middle school, the group’s debut plans were finally put on the table. Around the same time, the company officially announced that their new-generation boy group under Zuige Entertainment would be named “Acemon.” The main implication of the name was that each member was an ace.

In the meeting room, the members were seriously reviewing the group profile documents, which listed not only their height, weight, and blood type, but also the “new concepts” tailored specifically for each of them by the company.

In plain terms, these were the personas they would be expected to sell after debuting.

The room was quiet, except for the rustle of shifting papers. Zhu Lianzhen deliberately made noise as he flipped a page with extra force, the “swish swish” drawing everyone’s attention. He held up a particular page and asked the staff, “What does this mean? Why am I supposed to pair up with him more often?”

The planner explained, “You and Fan Gerong are the main dancer and lead vocalist. Those are already the two most important positions. Plus, your personalities are complementary, and your qualities are well-matched. We believe the fans will definitely enjoy watching you two interact—”

Before the staff could finish, a loud ripping sound rang out. Zhu Lianzhen slowly tore the page to shreds, then tossed the pieces onto the table with disdain. “I don’t need you to tell me what kind of personality I have.”

Sitting across from him, Fan Gerong wore an almost equally arrogant expression. He sneered at the staff and said, “Where did you get the idea that he and I are ‘complementary in personality’? From the nonsense written on this piece of paper?”

The staff exchanged helpless looks. No matter how used they were to these teenagers’ strong personalities, communicating with them was always a headache. No matter how perfectly the planning documents were written, it was all useless if the artists refused to cooperate.

In the end, it still fell to Pei Qiao to handle them. “If you’re not satisfied, then forget it. If you’re not in a hurry to debut, we can just keep wasting time. After all, the trainee contracts aren’t ending any time soon.”

That hit a nerve. Fan Gerong lowered his head with a cold expression and said nothing more. Zhu Lianzhen also looked thoroughly displeased, his brows furrowed as he pushed the scraps of paper on the table aside and said grumpily, “Give me another copy.”

Pei Qiao didn’t indulge him. “We didn’t print extras. Share with the person next to you.”

Zhu Lianzhen’s expression darkened. He leaned toward Tan Qing, but it was too tiring to read that way, so he dragged his chair over and sat right next to him.

He turned his head and saw Tan Qing’s profile up close. This person always had a calm expression, his eyes giving nothing away.

Maybe it was because of Tan Qing’s composed presence, but when Zhu Lianzhen was around him, his own irritation gradually settled down too.

Tan Qing was studying the materials carefully. The document listed how each member should react in various scenarios and situations, down to the precise curvature of their smiles. He had never thought about these things before; clearly, professional idols were held to stricter standards.

“Purple,” Zhu Lianzhen murmured, reading out Tan Qing’s support color. Then he added, “Mine’s yellow. Lemon yellow. Ours are complementary colors.”

Tan Qing responded with an “Mm.”

Feeling bored, Zhu Lianzhen continued reading, eventually noticing Tan Qing’s English name on the sheet. He read it out loud naturally, “Keith.”

It sounded like “Kiss”—the company’s intention behind Tan Qing’s persona was obvious. Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t help but complain inwardly: Even his English name is as flirtatious as his real one.

But what amazed him was that if anyone else had used that name, it would’ve come off as tacky and over-the-top. On Tan Qing, though, it somehow fit perfectly. Was it the contrast created by his steady personality?

Spinning a pen in his fingers, a sudden flash of inspiration struck Zhu Lianzhen. He scribbled an extra word beside the English name: “Kissy.”

He considered himself pretty skilled at giving people nicknames—memorable, easy on the ears, and not offensive. Tan Qing kept his eyes on the paper. What actually caught his attention wasn’t the nickname itself, but Zhu Lianzhen’s handwriting. It had gotten a lot tidier since before.

The first person to call Tan Qing “Kissy” was Koty, because Tan Qing’s real name was a bit of a tongue-twister for him. The nickname was soon approved by the company and added to Tan Qing’s profile on the official website.

Although they hadn’t officially debuted yet, their popularity was steadily rising. Tan Qing occasionally browsed through messages left by fans, and when he saw many of them using the nickname Zhu Lianzhen had given him, he didn’t feel any particular closeness.

Was it because affection from strangers always lacked a sense of reality? Tan Qing couldn’t quite say. He only felt a faint, barely noticeable sense of unease, like something bothering him deep down.

“Xiao Zhu, this way.”

While walking down the street, Tan Qing had to occasionally remind Zhu Lianzhen, who kept his head down looking at his phone, to stay on the inner side of the steps. Zhu Lianzhen usually replied, but soon enough, he would veer off course again.

Tan Qing grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer to his side.

They had gone out together to buy a birthday gift for Ji Yunting. It was also Singles’ Day, and many couples treated it like Valentine’s Day. By evening, the streets were packed with people flaunting their love more than usual.

Some elderly people carried baskets of flowers, selling single roses at street corners, calling out to young couples as they passed.

Zhu Lianzhen looked up when he heard the voices, and only then noticed that Tan Qing had been holding onto his wrist the whole time. He said, “Why are you holding my arm like that? Trying to check my pulse?”

“Mm. You’re very healthy.” Tan Qing smoothly let go.

Zhu Lianzhen laughed at his response, stuffed his phone back into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and bought the old lady’s entire basket of flowers. Then he said to Tan Qing with mischief in his voice, “Let’s give this to Ting-ge too. Say it’s a birthday gift sponsored by Singles’ Day.”

As they walked, he sifted through the roses in the basket, picked out the most perfectly shaped one, and handed it to Tan Qing.

Tan Qing gave him a puzzled look.

Zhu Lianzhen explained, “It suits you. Isn’t that your logo?”

He was referring to the custom symbols the company had designed for each member. His own was an arrow on a crescent moon, while Tan Qing’s was a black rose formed from overlapping triangles, with sharp and distinct edges.

Tan Qing studied the layers of petals in his hand. It reminded him of the time his mother was hospitalized. Back then, every time he passed a flower shop, he would buy her the flowers she liked, and he gradually learned a few things about them.

He knew the flower in his hand wasn’t a rose but a Chinese rose. Real roses had short blooming periods and low yields, making them unsuitable for market circulation. But of course, people only needed a symbol to convey romance. Whether it was a rose or a Chinese rose didn’t really matter.

Just like how there were no truly black flowers in the world either.

The sharp thorns on the flower stem hadn’t been fully trimmed by the seller. Tan Qing gripped it tightly and felt the expected pricking sensation in his palm, but he didn’t feel any pain.

He couldn’t help but squeeze it once, then again.

The two of them entered a trendy toy store. Zhu Lianzhen was browsing the merchandise with great interest, comparing which items would make better gifts. Just as he was getting caught up in indecision, he heard Tan Qing quietly ask beside him, “Xiao Zhu, do you think I’m suited to debut?”

Zhu Lianzhen turned his head. “Huh? You’re asking this now…”

But Tan Qing didn’t look like someone about to back out. It seemed more like he had casually thrown out a conversation topic. So Zhu Lianzhen changed his answer. “Of course you are.”

“They say I have the talent for it. What do you think?”

Zhu Lianzhen slowly set down what he was holding and asked in return, “Do you want to be an idol?”

Tan Qing said nothing, simply gazing at him in silence.

Zhu Lianzhen didn’t understand what that meant, so he continued, “I remember hearing a long time ago that the company’s scouts approached you several times, and you turned them all down?”

“Mm.”

“Then why did you agree later?”

As soon as Zhu Lianzhen said it, he suddenly realized he shouldn’t have asked that. Wasn’t the answer obvious? Tan Qing’s mother had passed away back then, and he was left alone. For the sake of survival, he couldn’t afford to miss the chance to become a celebrity anymore.

“Because,” Tan Qing looked into Zhu Lianzhen’s eyes and said, “someone wished for my dream to come true, but I don’t have any dreams. I don’t want that blessing to go to waste, so I want to go out and see more of the vast world. Maybe one day, I’ll be like you and find an answer.”

Zhu Lianzhen’s naturally sharp and bold features took on a hint of innocence and mischief when he smiled. At his age, his emotions were especially hard to hide, and Tan Qing could tell right away that he was feeling smug.

What Zhu Lianzhen focused on was the last sentence. He interpreted Tan Qing’s words as: Wow, he sees me as a role model!

“What’s your wish now? Tell me,” he asked Tan Qing.

“If I say it, can you make it come true?” Tan Qing averted his gaze from Zhu Lianzhen’s face. Without waiting for a response, he picked something off the shelf. “Let’s buy this for the leader.”

Zhu Lianzhen: “Why are you changing the subject, leaving me hanging like that?”

Tan Qing was already holding two gifts and heading to the register. Zhu Lianzhen followed him. “Just tell me. What if I really can help you make it happen?”

Tan Qing didn’t say anything, just curled the corners of his lips slightly. Zhu Lianzhen pestered him for a few minutes, then lost patience and got angry. “If you’re not gonna say it, then I don’t want to know.”

This time, Tan Qing let out a soft laugh. He turned and asked, “Will we still be like this in the future?

“—You taking me out, walking together on lively streets like this, eating, wandering around, chatting, giving me flowers. Will it still be like this?”

Zhu Lianzhen answered without hesitation, “Of course. What’s so hard about that?”

Then he thought for a moment and understood: Tan Qing must have been worried that after their debut, once they became more well-known, it would be easy to get recognized when going out, and even something as simple as a casual stroll would become difficult.

Only someone as attentive as Tan Qing would worry about things like that. Zhu Lianzhen reassured him, “Anyway, if you ever want to go out, just tell me. As long as we’ve got time, we’ll just go. The company can’t control that much.”

He remembered Tan Qing had mentioned wanting to see “the vast world” and assumed it was meant in the literal, geographical sense, so he added, “What about overseas? It’s lively, and we wouldn’t get recognized so easily.”

Tan Qing smiled. “Let’s talk about it later. I just mentioned it casually.”

“Oh.” Zhu Lianzhen didn’t think much of it. He carried the gift bag and looked around the mall for a dessert shop, planning to buy a cake for Ji Yunting as well.

After walking a dozen or so steps, he noticed the space beside him was empty. He turned around and saw Tan Qing still lingering behind, lost in thought and still holding that flower.

“Come on, what are you spacing out for?” Zhu Lianzhen urged him, raising his voice.

＊＊＊

“Let’s go, don’t space out,” Tan Qing said softly, tapping his fingertips against the unfinished bowl of soy milk in front of Zhu Lianzhen, producing a crisp sound.

Zhu Lianzhen snapped out of it, downed the rest of the sweet soy milk in one gulp, tossed the used napkin on the table, and got up to follow.

The two of them weaved through the busy morning market street and made their way to the open road. The air in the small city was fresh and cool, and even during rush hour, the traffic wasn’t bad.

The hotel wasn’t far away. As they walked back, Zhu Lianzhen glanced around and couldn’t help but think: Did this count as making it come true?

The only thing missing was a flower. Zhu Lianzhen felt around in his pocket and found that the pack of tissues had one sheet left. He pulled it out and began folding it slowly, but he had no real skill in origami. In the end, he clumsily shaped it into a lopsided fortune teller.

He handed it to Tan Qing. Tan Qing took it without a word, not even asking why he was giving him such a thing. He quietly unfolded the tissue, twisted one end into a thin strip, and used the other to carefully shape it into a flower.

Their thoughts had coincidentally aligned.

Back at the hotel, as they entered the elevator, Zhu Lianzhen spoke up casually, like it just occurred to him. “I just remembered something.”

Tan Qing glanced sideways. “What?”

“Nothing. Just a small thing. On Ting-ge’s nineteenth birthday, the two of us went to buy him a gift. Do you remember what we got?”

Tan Qing shook his head.

“So you don’t remember what I gave you that day?”

Tan Qing lowered his eyes. “No impression.”

Very well, it seemed his memory wasn’t so exceptional that he remembered every little detail. Zhu Lianzhen cleared his throat and said, “I was just casually thinking back and remembered that restaurant we went to that night. You said the sweet and sour ribs were really good, and the stir-fried greens weren’t bad either. I wonder if that place is still open.”

Tan Qing asked, “Which one?”

Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t recall the name, but he still remembered the location. “Fifth floor of Isetan, across from the Japanese restaurant. I even remember there were a bunch of discarded plastic mannequins placed near the elevator entrance. We both got startled when we walked out.”

Right then, the elevator doors opened. Tan Qing smiled. “You remember it so clearly.”

“Right?” Zhu Lianzhen gave a small laugh. “See? Even little things like this, I can remember them if I want to.”

Tan Qing took out the room card and tilted his head to look at him. “So?”

“So,” Zhu Lianzhen said, fingers rubbing the edge of his jacket, “don’t always assume I’ll forget things just because they seem unimportant.”

Tan Qing had already unlocked the door and stood at the entrance without going in. When Zhu Lianzhen moved to walk past him, Tan Qing reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Will we still be like this in the future?” Tan Qing asked.

Zhu Lianzhen froze. The question was familiar, and each word was identical to before.

He parted his lips slightly. “So you… didn’t forget after all.”

“No, I did forget.” Tan Qing’s lips curved slightly. “That’s why I’m asking you now.”

Zhu Lianzhen’s gaze flicked briefly to where their skin touched. Tan Qing’s fingers pressed lightly against the steady pulse on his wrist. He wondered if the rhythm could be felt.

Tan Qing looked at him steadily and asked again, “In the future, will it still be like this?”

Times were different now. Zhu Lianzhen didn’t ignore the warmth of Tan Qing’s hand, nor did he think his question was just because he was being sensitive.

He could tell that Tan Qing was asking if they should truly maintain their current relationship. That night, with alcohol in his system, maybe his answer hadn’t counted. So now, while sober in daylight, it needed to be confirmed again.

Zhu Lianzhen felt his heart pounding against the left side of his chest. He glanced down at his wrist, then finally looked up, meeting Tan Qing’s gaze.

“Yes,” he said.

Then, he felt Tan Qing’s fingertips caressing the inside of his wrist. With just a little pressure, he was naturally pulled into the room, lips meeting warmth.