[Hahahahahaha I laughed so hard the neighbor called the cops at 3 a.m.!]
[Listen and Song—PEI!]
[Justice for ABC Xiao Pei, his reputation’s ruined!]
[HELP I CAN’T BREATHE]
Pei Tingsong grabbed the Pink Panther plushie off the couch and launched an all-out attack—swinging it down on Ling Yi and Lu Yuan’s heads, then wrapping the panther’s legs around He Ziyan’s neck like a wrestling move.
[LMAOOO that’s our team tyrant! 1v3 and he’s still winning!]
[Wait look at Juexia! He’s slowly scooting away like “not my problem” hahahaha]
As always, the team leader had to step in and restore order. Everyone returned to their seats with forced plastic smiles. Jiang Miao was half-dead with exhaustion.
“What were we even doing just now?”
Fang Juexia, the group’s voice of reason, raised his hand like the only kid paying attention in class.
“Answering fan questions.”
“Oh—right, right.” Jiang Miao took a deep breath. “Let’s do one more.” Cheng Qiang pointed at the clock behind them, and Jiang Miao immediately got it.
“Final one! Juexia, take a screenshot, and Lu Yuan picks.”
Because Juexia didn’t talk much, he tended to blend into the background on shows, so Jiang Miao often made a point to cue him for more screen time.
“Got it. Here.” Juexia passed his phone to Lu Yuan.
“Alrighty.” Lu Yuan scrolled seriously, then suddenly lit up.
“This one! Chosen one! Username: WildBoy_PeiTingsong—pfft.”
“Hahahaha Wild Boy Listen and Song!”
Ling Yi laughed so hard he collapsed sideways into Juexia’s lap, gasping for air.
Juexia chuckled too, patting Ling Yi’s arm.
“Breathe, you’re gonna pass out.”
[AHHHH JXGG SO SOFT]
[I swear I’m shipping this in blood now!!!]
Facing the merciless teasing from his hyungs, Pei Tingsong forced a smile.
“What? I think that username’s kinda cool. Swag.”
“Ahem,” Lu Yuan barely kept from laughing, “This fan asks—‘Does Kaleido have an official fandom name? We can’t just be nameless nobodies!’” He mimicked the fan’s dramatic tone perfectly.
Still clutching the Pink Panther’s tail, He Ziyan chimed in,
“There is an official name, actually.”
Jiang Miao nodded. “Yup, our boss came up with it himself. Since our group is called Kaleido, he gave our fans the name Domino—a pun.”
“Sounds like a magic spell,” Ling Yi picked up a little hammer like it was a wand and waved it.
“Kaleidomino~!”
[LMAO 01 really is an airhead cutie]
[Why’d that actually make me feel cuter? What’s wrong with me]
“There’s actually some meaning behind it,” Ling Yi tossed the hammer and explained.
“You know how dominoes are all small and lined up, right? Kinda like our fans—tiny but adorable!”
Lu Yuan gave him a look of pure judgment.
“What kind of explanation is that?”
“What? You got a better one?”
[Card: Sorry, we really don’t know what the fan name means.]
[Hahahaha I’m getting mad! Is our name really that unimportant?]
[Clearly no one paid attention during the planning meetings, lol. But “Domino” does sound pretty nice.]
The two of them chattered away. Jiang Miao bumped Fang Juexia on the shoulder. “Juexia, why don’t you explain?”
Having been called on by the team leader, Fang Juexia—who’d been quietly watching the chaos—finally opened his mouth. “Honestly… I don’t really remember what the boss said during that meeting either.”
Hearing that, Pei Tingsong—who’d been joking around with Lu Yuan—couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
[LOL Juexia is too honest.]
“But I really like the name.”
Fang Juexia paused to find the right words. “How should I put it… Dominoes is a group game. Back when I was in school, I actually took part in a domino team competition. The whole process required so much patience and precision—each tile had to be carefully placed, one after the other. In the end, just tipping the very first one can knock them all down in perfect sequence. That kind of flawless result? It’s incredibly rare.”
He wasn’t used to talking this much, and felt he might be rambling a bit, so he added a quick explanation, “Um… I guess what I mean is—it reminds me of how our fans feel about us. You all give us so much patience and dedication, constantly cheering us on and waiting for us. Just like carefully lining up every single domino tile. Each one matters—none can be missing.”
As he spoke, Fang Juexia forgot all about the camera. When he was thinking, his eyes naturally drifted upward, and under the soft glow of the ceiling light, his gaze sparkled—his whole expression gentle and serene.
“And you guys know this too—success for a group like us? It’s a long shot, a really small chance. But still, you’ve always been there, giving us selfless love and support, holding us up every step of the way. Um…”
At first, Pei Tingsong had been scoffing to himself, thinking Fang Juexia was just making things up on the fly. But gradually, he found himself resonating with what was being said. He also noticed how Juexia was starting to struggle for words, so he jumped in to continue, “Exactly.”
Fang Juexia froze for a second—he’d almost never heard a direct word of agreement from Pei Tingsong. It surprised him.
“Juexia-ge is right. Dominoes is a game of serious endurance. One wrong move and everything can come crashing down—again and again. It’s a chain reaction of collapse. And that’s honestly a lot like our journey as a group. We’ve faced plenty of setbacks, and you—our fans—you’ve never given up on us. Every time something falls apart, you pick the pieces up and start over with us.”
He looked into the camera and smiled, his tone filled with genuine admiration. “Respect.”
No one had expected this kind of speech from Pei Tingsong—the one who usually seemed the most detached from the group. Everyone else was a little stunned. He Ziyan was the first to react, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder.
“Yeah. Seriously, thank you guys. We wouldn’t have made it this far without you. You’re amazing.”
Lu Yuan clapped enthusiastically. “That’s right! Domino is the best!”
Jiang Miao smiled. “I hope we can keep showing new sides of ourselves to everyone, like a kaleidoscope. And I hope all our Dominos will stick with us, piece by piece, step by step—don’t stop moving forward.”
“Let’s create that final miracle together.”
The livestream ended at 9:30 PM. After sending off the staff and Cheng Qiang, the six of them hung out in the dorm, playing a few rounds of games until around midnight. It wasn’t until they were finally getting sleepy that Pei Tingsong suddenly remembered—he hadn’t made his bed, and he didn’t have any bedding to make it with.
“You really came here like you’re going to the countryside. Tragic.”
So he had to scrape things together. Lin Yi and He Ziyan’s stuff had just been changed out and hadn’t been washed yet. Jiang Miao and Lu Yuan’s beds were a size smaller, so their sheets didn’t fit properly.
Only Fang Juexia’s would work.
One of them didn’t want to lend, and the other didn’t want to ask—but either way, Pei Tingsong had to sleep somehow.
Fang Juexia opened his locker and took out a spare set of clean clothes, handing them over along with a brand-new, unused comforter. Truthfully, he had a mild case of germophobia, plus a bit of OCD. His face might have looked calm, but inside he was in absolute turmoil.
What should I do? Do I really have to lend it to him? I’ve never shared these things with anyone before… The clothes were already pushing my limit.
What now? Should I just say no? But I can’t let him go a night without a bed—he’s so tall, and there’s no way he can squeeze in with anyone else…
Fine. Just this once. It’ll be okay. I can handle it.
“Hey.” Pei Tingsong folded his arms and stared at him. “What are you thinking about?”
Fang Juexia looked like a rabbit guarding its food, clinging to his bedding for dear life.
Snapping back to reality, Fang Juexia decided to be a good older brother. After a bit of hesitation, he reluctantly stretched out his arms.
“You…” Fang Juexia struggled to say anything. He knew it didn’t matter what he warned him about—Pei Tingsong was a little devil; no amount of nagging would help.
“Thanks,” Pei Tingsong said casually, reaching for the sheets and comforter. But Fang Juexia instinctively didn’t let go. Pei gave it a tug and nearly yanked him into his arms.
What a weirdo. It’s just a bedsheet and comforter—not like he was asking for a kidney.
But as a pampered young master who never had to lift a finger growing up, Pei Tingsong had no idea how to actually make a bed. Fang Juexia watched him bent over, wrestling with the bedding in what could only be described as a twenty-minute performance art piece.
In the end, he couldn’t take it anymore. In a resigned tone, like a monk seeing a pilgrim halfway up the mountain, he said, “I’ll do it.”
“Great,” Pei said, happily passing off the task. He strolled over to the window, pushed it open, and leaned halfway out. The night view was beautiful. Tilting his head, he caught sight of a vine stretching across from the next balcony. The green tendrils curled at the ends—such rare vitality for a winter night.
Looked like it was growing from the neighbors’ side.
“All done.”
Hearing Fang Juexia’s voice, Pei Tingsong turned around. The bed was made with military-level precision—not a single wrinkle in sight. The comforter was already inside the duvet cover, and it was even folded into a perfect cube, just like the one on the bed next to it.
This guy… is he secretly a housekeeping robot?
“Thanks—”
Before he could finish the word, Fang Juexia stiffly turned and walked away. His cold, retreating back made the rest of the sentence catch in Pei Tingsong’s throat.
The whole bed carried Fang Juexia’s scent—the same faint, clean fragrance on his clothes and in his closet. Pei Tingsong lay in the soft bedding wrapped in that cool scent, curled up on his side facing the window.
He looked like he was wrapped in moonlight.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, Fang Juexia was wide awake, tossing and turning like a pancake that just couldn’t get cooked through. The thought of someone else lying on his bedsheets and under his comforter made his skin crawl. Sleep was simply impossible.
Separated by a single wall, the two of them shared a sleepless night.
Kaleido’s recent spike in popularity had drawn attention from a ton of online content creators. Many had recorded the entire livestream early on, waiting for a moment to clip into a viral hit.
The problem was—there were too many viral moments to count.
That night, the keyword [Fang Juexia Pei Tingsong Candy Wrapper Kiss] shot straight onto the trending list, climbing all the way to second place. By morning, even more tags had followed—[Kaleido Comedy Troupe], [Kaleido Fan Name], and others started trending one after another.
Fang Juexia was forced to withdraw from his original variety show lineup, losing his only solo schedule. But his lifestyle had always been disciplined—an early riser by habit, he went for a morning run around the neighborhood before returning to the dorm.
His room had a small balcony. When he first moved in, it was completely bare, but now it was filled with plants and flowers.
His mother was someone who truly knew how to enjoy life. Their little home in Guangzhou had been decorated warmly and tastefully. The small garden on the first floor overflowed with greenery. As a child, he would help her water the plants and loosen the soil. Now grown, he took care of his own balcony garden with the same care.
Plants, like math problems, were refreshingly simple. If you followed their growth rules and gave them ten times the patience, they would reward you with the most beautiful results.
Ling Yi and the team leader had left early in the morning for their schedule. When Fang Juexia got back, he saw Lu Yuan’s lazy egg-print slippers at the door—most likely off to practice. He figured He Ziyan was still around, so after tending to his garden, he made two servings of egg salad and bacon sandwiches, and brewed two cups of coffee.
But when he reached He Ziyan’s door, he suddenly remembered—Pei Tingsong had moved back into the dorm.
He had completely forgotten about that dangerous variable.
His hand, raised to knock, froze in midair. After a moment, he retracted it and called He Ziyan instead.
The phone only rang a few times before being picked up. “Juexia? What’s up?”
His voice didn’t sound the least bit sleepy.
Fang Juexia asked, “Where are you?”
“Oh, Jiang Miao’s having a bit of a hypoglycemia episode. He messaged me, so I picked up some things and I’m heading over to him now,” He Ziyan explained.
Hearing the GPS voice in the background, Fang Juexia realized he was driving. “Alright, just be careful on the road.”
“You needed something?” He Ziyan asked.
“No, just saw you weren’t around and wanted to check in.”
After hanging up, Fang Juexia was about to put away his phone and leave—only for the door in front of him to swing open.
Standing there in deep gray pajamas, hair a messy cloud of bedhead, was Pei Tingsong. A heavy aura of half-slept irritation practically radiated off him.
Fang Juexia froze, a little guilty. He didn’t move. Blinked once.
“You’re not done standing here making calls? Now you’re blocking my way too…” Pei Tingsong yawned as he stretched, and when his arms came back down, he casually flicked the brim of Fang Juexia’s cap. “If I’m late for class, you planning to explain it to my professor?”
“Oh—right.” Fang Juexia quickly adjusted his hat. Only then did he remember—this guy was still a college student.
Pei Tingsong rushed through his morning routine, parched and looking for a drink. But when he passed by the dining table, he stopped.
Two neatly prepared breakfasts sat there.
When Fang Juexia came out dressed for the day, he was stunned to find Pei Tingsong already seated, helping himself to the sandwich and coffee that had been intended for He Ziyan.
Pei Tingsong took a sip of coffee and let out a contented sigh, stretching again. “At least you’ve got some conscience—actually made breakfast for the youngest who’s got an early class.”
It wasn’t for you, Fang Juexia thought silently. But he didn’t say it aloud. The food would just go to waste otherwise. After washing his hands, he quietly sat down, ate his own portion without a word, and began cleaning up afterward.
Then Xiao Wen’s call came in. Fang Juexia put it on speaker and set the phone by the sink.
“Juexia?”
“Mm, go ahead, I’m listening.”
“Okay! Just giving you guys an update on the schedule.” Xiao Wen rattled off a list of times and logistics before adding, “Oh right, there’s a last-minute thing—next Monday night, YTV’s Spring Festival Gala will be livestreamed. One of the guests dropped out last minute due to illness, so we’re filling in. You’ll need to rehearse the medley. Dress rehearsal’s on Sunday night, so there’s not much time.”
Fang Juexia responded calmly, “I don’t have any solo schedules lately. I’ll focus and rehearse properly.”
“As if we’re worried about you! It’s mainly that—ugh, the group tyrant…”
Pei Tingsong suddenly appeared behind him and grabbed his phone. “Group what? I’m right here, better watch your mouth.”
On the other end, Xiao Wen choked on her own spit. “Cough cough cough! X-Xiao Pei? Why are you next to Juexia?!”
Fang Juexia’s hands were still wet, so he couldn’t take the phone back. Not that it mattered—Pei Tingsong casually set the phone down. “I’m at the dorm. So is he. Problem?” Then he wandered off again, muttering something about keys as he looked around.
“Oh, right, right! You moved back into the dorm,” Xiao Wen said, patting her chest to calm down. “Anyway, just get along, okay? I’ve got a meeting to attend. Byeee!”
Get along.
Those two words made Fang Juexia want to laugh.
