“I told you, it just grazed me. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?”
Fang Juexia acted like he didn’t hear him. His expression stayed tightly fixed, unmoving. Honestly, when he ran out just now, he’d actually imagined pushing Pei Tingsong into the ER. It was just the two of them in the dorm. If something serious had happened to Pei, how would he explain it? That kind of thing—hard to explain—was always the biggest headache.
Even if it wasn’t serious, what if it left a scar? He wouldn’t be able to distance himself from it. Like it or not, they both made a living off their faces.
Fang Juexia flipped open the first aid kit with a sharp snap. Even though Pei Tingsong kept his hand over half his face, refusing to let him help, he ignored it completely. He dipped a cotton swab into some iodine and reached toward him.
“You trying to role-play a nurse or something?” Pei said with a little heat, grabbing his wrist midair.
His mind, in a sudden lapse of reason, flashed with an image—Fang Juexia playing nurse with some nameless sugar daddy in this exact scenario. But even in that mental snapshot, the only face he could picture was Fang Juexia’s.
Fang had leaned in quite a bit to treat him quickly, and the result was an uncomfortably close distance.
Pei could smell the scent of his body wash—milky softness mingled with the faint bitterness of herbal notes—wafting from his pale neck like gossamer, brushing across Pei’s face.
“You’re bleeding,” Fang Juexia said, staring at the corner of his eye. His voice carried a hint of surprise, and even his usually cold eyes widened slightly. That little change brought life into his whole expression. “It almost hit your temple.”
It was actually pretty serious. The spot hit by the hardcover’s sharp corner was dangerously close to the temple, nestled between there and the eye. A slightly different angle could’ve caused real damage. A few drops of blood had already landed on his sweater, soaking into the fibers.
Pei Tingsong was still gripping Fang’s wrist tightly. Fang tried to twist free, the bone of his wrist pressing into Pei’s palm.
As Pei glanced up, he caught the way Fang Juexia’s lips were slightly pressed together—the center dipped into the fullness of his lower lip. The expression made him look stubborn and delicate at the same time.
Pei let go and quickly snapped back to reality. This guy was anything but delicate. It was just his face that created the illusion.
Fang took his release as surrender from the local troublemaker and began gently wiping the blood from his face. Then he handed him an alcohol wipe. “Clean the blood off your hand.”
He’d been dancing for years, and injuries were just part of the job. He’d long since gotten used to patching himself up. Back in his trainee days, he often helped others with small cuts. This wasn’t anything new.
But unexpectedly, now that he was close, Fang Juexia noticed something different about Pei Tingsong.
Among all the members, Pei had the most striking features—sharp enough to almost look mixed-race. His pale skin only added to that impression, and fans often called him the “unofficial visual” of the group.
His eyes were narrow and long, with a deep double eyelid and prominent brow bone that gave his gaze depth. Just under his right eye, nestled near his aegyo-sal, were two tiny moles. Fang had never noticed them before. They were only visible up close.
Those eyes were the reason Pei could look equal parts fierce and boyish. His smile didn’t start at the corners of his mouth—it started in his eyes. If his eyes weren’t smiling and only his lips moved, he looked downright wicked. But if his eyes smiled? He looked like a kid.
“Hey, are you mute or something?”
Fang blinked out of his observational trance and went back to unpeeling some medical tape.
“Block of wood, block of ice, mute… Your descriptions of me are getting more and more… non-organic,” Fang said.
“What a weirdo. Such a nerd.”
“You’re deader than an inanimate object,” Pei muttered, aware he was being harsh—but Fang just replied with a “Thanks,” leaving him at a loss.
Pei kept repeating that a band-aid was enough, but Fang was like a malfunctioning robot that refused to follow instructions, insisting on giving him the most deluxe treatment possible. His touch was feather-light, and the side of his palm occasionally brushed Pei’s cheekbone—soft and warm.
His sweater had a high, tight collar, which made it hard to breathe. Now that it had blood on it, he wanted it off even more. The heat in the room intensified the scent of Fang’s body wash, and when Pei tried to avert his gaze, his eyes accidentally landed on a small birthmark near the corner of Fang’s eye. Without foundation, it was even more visible—a soft pink hue, as if it glowed through his skin.
It seemed like the most alive part of Fang Juexia’s entire being.
“All done.”
Pei quickly looked away and touched the bandage at the corner of his eye.
“You’re overreacting,” he muttered under his breath.
Fang didn’t catch it. His hands paused mid-motion while packing up the medical kit.
He looked up, those beautiful eyes opening just slightly wider. They weren’t cold anymore—just a little confused, as if something in him had softened.
Pei Tingsong glanced over. “Didn’t say anything.” He tugged at the collar of his sweater. “I need to change.”
That pampered-young-master tone—Fang Juexia had long since learned to ignore it, so he just looked at him. The two of them locked eyes in awkward silence.
“I didn’t bring any clothes,” Pei added.
Fang Juexia kept looking at him but didn’t move.
“Forget it.” Realizing it was like talking to a wall, Pei Tingsong pulled out his phone and called He Ziyan. “I’ll borrow one of Yan-ge’s.”
By the time Fang Juexia finished packing up the first-aid kit and came back, Pei Tingsong was still standing there.
“No answer,” Pei muttered under his breath. “Where the hell did he go…”
Fang Juexia, who was standing to the side, stared at the small bloodstain on Pei’s sweater. It was almost dry and made him uncomfortable just looking at it.
“I have a hoodie I only wore once. It’s oversized. Should fit you,” he said, then quickly added, “if you want to wear it.”
In the end, Pei Tingsong gave in. It was a grayish-purple crewneck hoodie with a black rectangular patch printed across the chest, inside of which were the faint gray-white letters: Melt for you.
For you, I’d melt.
In that moment, Pei imagined Fang Juexia wearing it. Probably looked decent—but the text felt too off-brand, way too unlike his style.
When he emerged, now wearing it with a pair of black cargo pants, the overall effect gave him a clean and youthful vibe.
“Fits just right.” Pei tugged at the sleeve. Fang Juexia wasn’t short—at 180 cm he was tall by idol group standards. But Pei Tingsong had hit a growth spurt when he first joined the group, already 184 cm back then. He shot up a bit more over the years and was now 188 cm, officially the tallest in the group.
Fang Juexia said nothing, taking the bloodstained sweater and tossing it into the washing machine. He was trying to figure out a way to quietly head back to his room without seeming cold.
He was still hesitating when a voice called from the doorway.
“Juexia!”
He walked into the living room and saw the others had returned. He Ziyan was carrying two big boxes of fried chicken and nudged Pei’s shoulder as soon as he came in. “Hey, bro.”
Classic ABC-style Pei replied in fluent Mandarin, “I just called you, and you didn’t pick up.”
“Really? Let me check.”
Ling Yi rushed over and hugged Fang Juexia dramatically. “Erhuo won’t let me eat fried chicken.”
He Ziyan scrolled through his phone and shot back, “It wasn’t me—it was the fat on your belly that betrayed you first.”
Lu Yuan and Jiang Miao came in last, seemingly talking to someone else behind them.
“Who else is here?” Fang Juexia asked.
“We came with the production team,” Ling Yi explained. “They’re setting up cameras today and starting filming. Qiang-ge said since Xiao Pei is back, it’s the perfect time for a ‘welcome back’ group livestream!”
“They’re starting today?” Fang Juexia was caught off guard. By the time he spoke, Jiang Miao had already led the staff inside. After a quick look around, they began setting up cameras.
Lu Yuan walked in carrying two giant buckets of popcorn. “Qiang-ge said we’re kicking things off with a teaser stream to build hype for the group show. The promo’s already out.”
He Zi Yan put down his fried chicken. “Once again, it’s home turf for our Dalian city heartthrob.”
“Old fans, double-tap that 666, yo~” Pei Ting Song suddenly chimed in.
“See?” He Zi Yan clapped Pei Ting Song on the shoulder. “Even our overseas-returned Xiao Pei knows the meme!” Then he paused, noticing something. “Hey? What happened to your face?”
Fang Juexia glanced over too. The skin around Pei Ting Song’s eye looked slightly swollen. Pei answered casually, “Boxing practice.”
This guy was a paradox. On the one hand, brutally honest to the point of offending people without a care. On the other, lying with zero hesitation and not the faintest blush.
“Aren’t you gonna freshen up a bit?” Ling Yi trotted over and hugged Fang Juexia, rubbing against the fuzzy fabric of his hoodie.
Fang Juexia shook his head and pulled up the hood of his fluffy loungewear, covering most of his face. “Forget it. No need to keep everyone waiting.”
Ling Yi sighed. “Ah, the true mark of a visual king—going bare-faced on camera without breaking a sweat.”
The crew worked fast. In no time, all the equipment was installed and tested. Just as they were leaving, Cheng Qiang arrived with a woman in her thirties following behind. She was the director for the variety show. Energetic and experienced, she chatted with them for a bit before Cheng Qiang came over to brief the group on the dos and don’ts of filming. He then pulled Pei Ting Song and Fang Juexia aside for a quick chat.
“Showtime,” He Zi Yan muttered, a chocolate stick in his mouth like a cigarette.
Ling Yi snatched the stick, snapped it in half, and popped it into his mouth. “Erhuo always sees through the truth.”
Lu Yuan seemed to remember something and headed over to them. “Hey, need any help with a concept? I’ve seen a ton of CP fan edits of you two online…” He hadn’t even finished when the captain grabbed him with a laugh. “That’s enough from you.”
Ling Yi clicked his tongue. “That city pretty boy may look polished on the outside…”
He Zi Yan finished the sentence without missing a beat. “…but behind the scenes, he’s a CP fan of his own teammates.”
The two high-fived in sync.
“Alright! Everyone get ready—we’re going live!”
The group’s reality show used both fixed and handheld cameras. The fixed cams captured 24-hour raw footage, while handheld filming only happened during designated group segments, like the current livestream. To keep things authentic, the filming crew was kept small.
“The stream’s up!”
As soon as someone said it, the livestream froze. Hard.
Jiang Miao: “Is it the Wi-Fi?”
Lu Yuan: “Nope, our dorm has killer internet.”
One of the crew explained, “It’s just too many viewers. Don’t worry, it’ll smooth out soon.”
That “soon” turned into a fifteen-minute wait. They pushed the couch back, spread a tablecloth on the floor, and laid out all the snacks and drinks. Everyone sat cross-legged on the carpet, munching away. Finally, the chat came alive. The comment section exploded in Kaleido’s signature support color—Klein Blue.
[AAAAHHHH I’m here, my boys!! I’m crying, it lagged so bad 5555]
[Sanshui, Erhuo, Yiyi, Juexia, Yuan Yuan, and Xiao Pei!! I love you all!!!]
Jiang Miao clapped twice to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s say hi to everyone. One, two, three!”
All six boys sitting in a row raised their right hands at the same time, forming a “K” with their thumbs, index, and middle fingers in front of their faces, and shouted in unison with bright energy, “Hello everyone, we’re Kaleido!”
After the greeting, Ling Yi and Lu Yuan even clapped for themselves. “Nice one!”
“Let’s do another!” Ling Yi was hyped up. “Yuan Yuan, give us a floor move!”
Fang Juexia quietly caught Ling Yi’s overly excited hand and gently brought it down, then stuffed a soft candy into his palm.
[Mr. Fang: Living like a calm person in this madhouse of a group is exhausting.]
[LOL the roommate CP is too adorable! One’s causing chaos and the other’s trying to stop it hahaha]
[Juexia’s loungewear is this cute?? All fluffy—I wanna pet him!]
Ling Yi, ever sharp-eyed, pointed it out. “Juexia! They said your outfit’s cute and they wanna pet you!”
Juexia squinted at the screen, a bit slow to react. Tugging at his fuzzy loungewear, he answered flatly, “This piece… what brand… Yi Yi gave it to me for my birthday last year. I cut the tag off. Can’t tell.”
“Pfft, they’ll find the same one, don’t worry,” Ling Yi said casually.
[Ahhh the roommate line is too real!]
[Yi Yi’s so clingy with Juexia~ Cold, doting top x soft, adorable bottom—delicious dynamic!]
As always, Jiang Miao steered the flow back. “To celebrate little Pei rejoining the group life, Ziyan bought a ton of good food today.”
[Every time Kaleido has a group hangout it feels like Sanshui and Erhuo are taking care of kids~ The Kaleido Daycare Spring Outing begins!]
[Captain’s yellow hoodie is gorgeous today!]
[This group is seriously good-looking. The Kaleido visual team never lies.]
“Thanks Erhuo!” Ling Yi clapped like a baby seal, then quickly lifted the fried chicken lid, only to have his hand lightly smacked by Lu Yuan’s chopsticks. “Did anyone say you could eat? Know your limits, man.”
“Lu Yuan’s roasting me!” Ling Yi cried dramatically, then flopped onto Fang Juexia’s shoulder. “I’m giving it to Juexia. He’s skinny!”
Fang Juexia couldn’t help it. He lowered his gaze and let out a soft laugh. This smile happened to be caught by Pei Tingsong, who was handing out utensils. He found it unfamiliar.
So he could smile like that.
[Where’s little Pei?]
[The one in black pants is him, right? We can’t see his face at all lol—Pei, come out and let mom take a look!]
“They’re calling you,” Fang Juexia said out of the blue as he took the utensils, glancing up at the approaching Pei Tingsong. He noticed Pei had slipped on a pair of black-rimmed glasses during the break, giving off a distinctly bookish vibe.
Pei Tingsong paused, then understood what he meant and smoothly sat down next to him. The moment he sat, his face finally entered the frame.
They were seated too close. Fang Juexia instinctively leaned away to the left, feeling uncomfortable—but Pei Tingsong immediately reached over and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him firmly back to the right so they were pressed side by side.
Without missing a beat, Pei Tingsong adjusted his glasses and gave a calm smile to the camera.
[AAAAHHHHH IT’S MY LITTLE PEI!!!]
[Wait, what’s up with his eye corner? Did he get hurt?]
[Almost missed it with the glasses, but yeah, there’s gauze there.]
[TingJue CP is back together!!! Why are y’all just staring?! Screenshot it already!!]
[OMG! Did Xiao Pei just put his arm around JXGG?! That was so alpha!]
[Ahhh I’m done for, this scene at Putuo Temple is way too swoon-worthy!]
[Happy happy happy happy happy happy happy happy happy happy happy!!]
The livestream chat exploded into a wall of red “double happiness” characters flooding the screen.
“Stop.” Pei Tingsong pointed a finger toward the camera like he was clicking something in midair.
[Aaaaahhhh Xiao Pei is so hot!!]
Seeing that comment, Pei Tingsong frowned slightly, clearly exasperated. “It’s Xiao Pei, Pei—not Fei.”
[He’s mad he’s mad he’s mad he’s mad he’s mad he’s mad he’s mad he’s mad he’s mad he’s mad he’s mad he’s mad he’s mad he’s mad he’s mad—]
[LOL who typed ‘Xiao Fei’? Get out of the fandom! You’re fired!]
[LMAO why does my bias always get his name miswritten!]
[Lowkey, anyone else catch that ‘always’ line? That girl’s totally a certain Physics Alpha actor’s fan haha.]
[LOL I know this—must be a Zhou Ziyan fan, right?]
Just then, Fang Juexia—who’d been quietly watching the screen—suddenly looked up and smiled. The corners of his eyes curved beautifully, the arc trailing right to the edge of his soft pink birthmark.
“Xiao Pei: sheds his clothes to pursue literature.”
He tossed out this line totally out of nowhere. Pei Tingsong looked over at him, confused. Fang Juexia reached one finger from under his sleeve and “wrote” the Chinese character for “clothes” (衣) in the air.
[I get it now!!! Replace the ‘clothes’ character with ‘words,’ and Pei becomes Fei! Omg Juexia is a literal genius baby!!]
[When he’s not smiling he’s so cold and aloof—classic ice prince. But when he does smile?! That little eye curve plus the birthmark? Dead.]
[This is such a sugar bomb right out the gate! That “sheds clothes for words” pun is adorable! Cold-faced jokester Fang Juexia strikes again!]
Pei Tingsong finally caught on. He wanted to laugh, but it was so dumb he held it in, just curling the corners of his mouth a little before turning back to the camera and muttering in a low voice, “Such a terrible pun.”
This was the first time he’d ever heard Fang Juexia say “Xiao Pei”—even if it wasn’t really directed at him.
[Omg this is younger-top energy!!! I’m sobbing ksml!]
[OMG the grapevine is alpha as hell!! That stifled laugh is too hot. I’m thinking about that scene again—PTS smacking his bro’s face with the plane ticket!!]
[LOL what even is ‘grapevine’—Pei Tingsong has way too many nicknames now.]
[Bless the girl who messed up Xiao Pei’s name—come back, we forgive you!]
[Wait… that hoodie Xiao Pei’s wearing—isn’t that the birthday gift from Awakening Station this year? The one Juexia wore once? Their fanpage posted proof…]
That message instantly caused an uproar in the chat.
[I just went to double-check the fanpage. It’s true!! It’s the exact same one?!]
[It’s gotta be Juexia’s!]
[TingJue is real!!!!]
[Forget “shedding clothes for words”—this is wearing clothes for Xia!]
