Title: [Someone said they saw all five members of A-Group[mfn]The original name here is “塔团” (literally “Tower Group”), but the “tower” part is actually referring to the top of a pyramid (金字塔). The author mentioned in the comments that the name comes from Acemon’s logo, which is a crown made of triangles, meant to represent the peak of a pyramid. Basically, this is just a way of writing “Acemon” in Chinese characters and shortening it. I went with “A-Group” in English since that felt like the most natural fit for the same idea. 
[/mfn] drinking together—does this mean the group is really making a comeback this year?]
[OP: With the kind of plastic brotherhood they have, there’s no way they’d just randomly meet up for fun. It has to be for work. Rumor has it Pei Qiao held a press conference on Valentine’s Day, but the major media outlets have kept it completely under wraps. With this level of secrecy, it’s almost definitely related to A-Group.]
[Comment 2: Any solid proof of them drinking together? A blurry paparazzi shot alone isn’t enough to confirm it’s recent. I don’t think A-Group has any chance of coming back. Just holding a proper farewell concert and giving the name Acemon a grand send-off would be enough.]
[Comment 3: Comeback? No way. What are you even thinking?]
[Comment 4: Let’s be real—a reunion isn’t going to happen. Over the past couple of years, everyone’s gone solo and settled into their own careers. Especially Kissy, who went the actor route, and K, who went overseas. Trying to come back as idols now would just be a mess.]
[Comment 5: Sigh. Even though I’m basically an A-Group hater now, I still think it’s a pity. Back then, when K-pop and J-pop were dominating the scene, they came out of nowhere and really blew people away. They had both the looks and the talent, a unique style, and got an unprecedented level of treatment in C-ent. Who would’ve thought they’d end up self-destructing like this?]
[Comment 6: Yeah, if it had just been one member leaving, they wouldn’t have had to pause the whole group. The fact that they announced an indefinite hiatus proves they were completely unable to work together at the time. Sure, they’re all still in their twenties now, but the group already missed the two most crucial years of development. Otherwise, they’d be Asia’s top group by now.]
[Comment 7: I looked up Acemon’s fan club stats on their site—only 300k members now. They’ve… really fallen off…]
[Comment 8: ? What’s wrong with you guys? They’ve been inactive for two years and still have 300,000 fans paying for membership, and you call that “fallen”? Meanwhile, you’re hyping up Lock-M as future superstars when they’ve only been active for half a year and just hit 80,000 members? Such double standards??]
[Comment 9: And so what? Who can A-Group even be compared to now? If you compare them to their peak, of course they’re a has-been idol group. What, we can’t say that now?]
[Comment 10: Why is everyone so pessimistic? If they really do make a comeback, at least eight out of ten people in this thread will be like, “After half a lifetime, I’m still an A-Group fan.”]
…
To prevent news of Acemon’s comeback from leaking, Pei Qiao contacted multiple mainstream media outlets in advance, ensuring that any online rumors about their schedules were quickly taken down. Since there was no new content available yet, announcing the plan too early wouldn’t have had the same impact on fans who had been waiting for two years.
The title track of the new EP, “Shake,” had already been recorded. The song leaned toward a dubstep style, perfectly suited to the group’s strengths in stage performance. Zhu Lianzhen was the first to hear the finished version, and from the first listen, he was struck by its dazzling, psychedelic layering. The contrast between high and low frequencies was intense, and the lyrics were catchy.
Following his instincts as a dancer, he drafted the entire choreography framework for the song in just two days. Afterward, he collaborated with the choreographer to finalize the details of each section.
Once spring officially arrived and the snow stopped in Ronggang, Acemon would enter a closed training period.
Their daily dance practice was fixed at eight hours. The best option was to move back into their old dormitory—a villa located far from the city, offering the ideal environment for focused singing and dance practice. Every time they released a new album, they would stay there for months.
However, since they still had unfinished individual schedules, the five of them were temporarily staying at a hotel near the company for convenience.
Inside the Zuige Entertainment building, Acemon had their own dedicated dance studio. Except for the newest member, Tan Qing, the others had spent several years of their trainee days there. Seeing the massive crown-shaped illuminated logo on the wall brought back a flood of memories.
Koty turned to Fu Rong excitedly and said, “Remember? This is where we first met.”
Fu Rong remained as cold as ever, so Ji Yunting cut in with a look of disdain. “Who didn’t you first meet here?”
Koty thought it over carefully. “That’s true. But I just remember that the first time I saw Fu Rong, I made a bet with Zhu Lianzhen about whether he was a guy or a girl.”
Zhu Lianzhen flatly denied it. “Anyone who made it into the group was obviously a guy! There’s no way I would’ve bet on something that stupid.”
Since the studio hadn’t been used in a long time, they had to clean it together first. While tidying up, their conversation drifted to their pre-debut days. Koty proudly told them, “Did you guys know? The reason Kissy got scouted by the company in the first place was because I told Pei-jie there was a ridiculously handsome guy at No. 7 High School.”
Tan Qing had no memory of this. “Did we even meet back then?”
“Of course we did! There was a time when I’d go to No. 7 High after school every day to hang out with my friends. I saw you at the school gate multiple times. The moment you walked out, tons of people would stare at you.” Koty boasted about his exceptional memory. “Didn’t you have a black-and-white bicycle?”
Tan Qing nodded, responding to Koty’s enthusiasm with an indifferent tone. “So we actually met that early. What a coincidence.” After thinking for a moment, he looked up and said, “I do remember running into Zhu Lianzhen before I joined the company.”
Suddenly pulled into the conversation, Zhu Lianzhen was caught off guard. “When?”
Tan Qing paused his sweeping and turned to look at him. “You and your dance club used to compete a lot, right?”
“Oh.” Zhu Lianzhen understood. The dance club he’d been part of in middle school performed outdoors every week, usually in busy areas around Ronggang. It wasn’t surprising that Tan Qing had seen him back then.
Zhu Lianzhen said, “Isn’t that just you having a one-sided encounter with me?”
Tan Qing gave a faint smile, then lowered his head and continued sweeping. “Yeah. I didn’t even know your name at the time.”
Zhu Lianzhen remembered that from the very first day Tan Qing joined the company, he’d seen him as a thorn in his side.
By then, the group had already been formed. The five members were preparing for their debut—until a sixth person was suddenly dropped in. Word spread that the newcomer had striking features, a tall frame, and even a name that carried an inexplicable air of intrigue—perfect for an idol.
The moment Tan Qing finished his evaluation performance, Ji Yunting immediately offered up his center position to him, saying it was for the good of the group and that Tan Qing’s presence was clearly a better fit.
Zhu Lianzhen had been pissed. Not only did they have to rearrange the entire dance formation and push back their debut by half a year, but now even Ting-ge’s center spot had been taken by an outsider. Why?
So from then on, he never gave Tan Qing a good attitude. If the other tried to talk to him, he ignored him. During dance practice, he constantly nitpicked his moves.
But Tan Qing never seemed to mind being targeted. He was always friendly with everyone and politely used the appropriate nickname “Xiao Zhu” when speaking to Zhu Lianzhen.
Even now, he still habitually called him “Xiao Zhu.”
Once they finished cleaning, the practice room looked completely refreshed. That afternoon, the dance teacher arrived to teach them the breakdown of the choreography.
Physical endurance and memorization were their strengths. In just two days, they had already mastered the entire routine. Their incredible learning speed left the teacher in shock. She had worked with many top idols overseas, but Acemon’s efficiency far exceeded that of other groups their age. And yet, aside from Zhu Lianzhen, the rest of them hadn’t been consistently practicing dance for the past two years.
Everything had been going smoothly, but by the second week, things started to feel off.
Their official practice schedule ran from 9 AM to 7 PM, with three hours set aside for meals and breaks. That was more than enough time to perfect the choreography. But Tan Qing, wanting to master the moves even more thoroughly, had started coming in at 7 AM every day for extra practice.
When Zhu Lianzhen noticed, an inexplicable sense of competitiveness flared up inside him. Determined to defend his dignity as the main dancer, he began arriving an hour earlier than Tan Qing each day.
But there was no way their unusual behavior could escape Koty’s gossip-loving eyes. After some quick mental math, he concluded: These two keep sneaking off early every morning—they’re definitely up to something!
So, without hesitation, he started tailing them like a third wheel.
Their sudden commitment pushed Ji Yunting to the brink of a breakdown. With his teammates pushing themselves harder and harder, how could the leader possibly justify sleeping in?
Left with no choice, he dragged himself out of bed at the crack of dawn and worked late into the night, barely holding back tears as he struggled to keep up with the others.
Only Fu Rong remained utterly indifferent. He continued to show up at least half an hour late every day.
He strolled into the practice room with an iced coffee in hand, only to find everyone else already drenched in sweat and sprawled across the floor. He blinked in confusion. “What are you all doing?”
Except for Tan Qing, the other three were just as puzzled: Why did we even get involved in this competition?
But the damn need to win was just too strong!
Thanks to Tan Qing—the root of all evil behind spreading anxiety—everyone ended up finishing ten days ahead of schedule. The rest of the training period became much easier, giving them time to experiment with new styling concepts.
That night, after dance practice, Zhu Lianzhen felt like his head was about to explode from the heat. He couldn’t even wait until they got back to the hotel and headed straight for the company’s showers.
The locker room was quiet. As soon as he took off his shirt, a low, husky voice approached from behind. “What’s that on your waist?”
Zhu Lianzhen immediately turned around vigilantly, only to meet Koty’s curious gaze.
Koty leaned in, trying to get a better look at his lower back. “You have a tattoo? First I’m hearing about it. What’s the design?”
Zhu Lianzhen impatiently wrapped a towel around his waist. “Get lost. Stop acting like a pervert.”
He strode toward the private shower stalls, but Koty followed close behind like an annoying goose. “Let me see, let me see!”
Zhu Lianzhen slammed the door shut and locked it.
Warm water cascaded down his spine, tingling as it trickled over his waist and thighs, wrapping him in a cocoon of heat.
He turned his head to glance at his lower back. At the base of his spine was a tattoo in Latin.
—Sic itur ad astra.
Roughly translated, it meant “Thus one journeys to the stars.” Allegedly from some ancient Roman epic, it also symbolized a prisoner’s longing for freedom. It sounded romantic and grand, but if this tattoo ever accidentally showed up on camera, given both its placement and meaning, it could easily raise suspicion.
Even worse, right next to it was a black rose drawn in sharp, geometric lines—a design instantly recognizable as Tan Qing’s signature emblem within the group.
Maybe all young couples go through similarly brainless phases. Add to that the pressure of keeping their relationship underground, and it made perfect sense that they chose to tattoo each other’s symbols onto their bodies as a rebellious way to cope.
But now, all he felt was regret. Absolute, overwhelming shame.
When Zhu Lianzhen stepped out of the shower stall, Koty didn’t even bother drying his hair before sticking to him like glue, following him step for step.
Koty: “Why are you hiding it? Come on, I’m not some outsider. Don’t tell me you tattooed your girlfriend’s name on yourself! Holy shit—when did you even start dating!”
“I didn’t!” Zhu Lianzhen shut the idea down immediately.
Koty: “Then why can’t I see it?”
“And who the hell do you think you are?” Zhu Lianzhen hurriedly pulled on his clothes.
On the way back to the hotel, Koty refused to let it go. He kept pressing for an answer, dead set on uncovering the truth behind the tattoo. And the more Zhu Lianzhen resisted, the more Koty’s curiosity intensified. Like a pair of schoolkids, they bickered all the way from the elevator to the hallway.
Just then, Tan Qing stepped out of his room, right in time to see them stumbling in his direction. Before he could even say hello, Zhu Lianzhen suddenly darted over and used him as a human shield, shoving him straight into Koty’s path.
Tan Qing was confused. “What are you two doing?”
“I’m trying to strip Zhu Lianzhen!” Koty said bluntly. “He’s got a tattoo on his waist but refuses to show me. It’s gotta be his girlfriend’s name!”
Tan Qing calmly turned to glance at Zhu Lianzhen. “Is that so?”
Zhu Lianzhen shot Koty a murderous look. “How is that even possible! I just don’t want to show you!”
“If you won’t let me see, then how about letting Kissy see?” Koty asked.
Zhu Lianzhen hesitated for a split second, but then quickly stood firm. “No chance.”
Out of options, Koty tried to convince Tan Qing to team up—after all, with a two-against-one strategy, they were guaranteed to win. But before Koty could finish speaking, Tan Qing advised, “If he doesn’t want people to know, let it go. No matter how close you are, you still have to respect his privacy.”
Hearing Tan Qing step in on his behalf, Zhu Lianzhen finally relaxed a little. Thankfully, Koty still had a shred of decency left and backed off after hearing Tan Qing’s words.
Once Koty had gone back to his room, Tan Qing handed Zhu Lianzhen a bottle of anti-inflammatory spray. “The last one ran out. I bought a new one to replace it.”
Acemon’s choreography involved a lot of high-difficulty moves, so minor bruises and scrapes were inevitable. Zhu Lianzhen knew the most about different medications, so he often lent his to the others.
Zhu Lianzhen took the spray, swiped his key card, and stepped into his room. But just as one foot crossed the threshold, he suddenly felt a chill at his waist.
He whipped around, only to see Tan Qing lifting the hem of his shirt, exposing a small patch of bare skin. The same person who had just been preaching about respecting privacy was now calmly peeking at him.
Tan Qing let go, letting the fabric fall back into place, covering the tattoo once more.
Then he said, “It’s still there.”
