Author’s Note: For the chapter preview BGM, check out Missio’s “Dizzy”—it fits this chapter’s vibe perfectly. No need to ask where it’s from in the comments, okay? Don’t be a killjoy.
The orange juice delivery instantly set the livestream ablaze with comments.
[Whaaat? Did I just hear Xiao Pei say something sweet?]
[WODEMA is seriously spoiling him (covering mouth)]
[OMG WHAT DID I JUST SEE!!!]
[The real deal just danced right over my head!!!!]
[pts Handsome and kind-hearted, don’t mention it]
[Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh, tj is messing with me!]
[fjx Everyone loves him, I’m taking him home]
[Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh]
The two involved were still unaware. Fang Juexia had thought Pei Tingsong was upset, so seeing the orange juice surprised him. He took a sip of the orange juice—it was indeed sweet. The strange symptoms he’d been experiencing vanished instantly, as if it were more effective than any miracle cure. Before he could finish it, he set the glass aside, only for Pei Tingsong to snatch it away and down the remaining half.
Ling Yi stared at the bullet comments on the screen, “What else do you want to ask?” Just as he spoke, he suddenly heard the door open.
“The preview for the first episode of Escape to Heaven is out!” Lu Yuan walked in with his laptop alongside Jiang Miao. “Fresh off the press—wanna watch it together?”
“Ah, finally out!” Ling Yi rubbed his hands excitedly. “I’ve been waiting forever. Escape is taking too long.”
Lu Yuan placed the laptop right in the middle and turned up the volume. “Of course! You think this is some random group variety show we can just slap together and air?”
Jiang Miao immediately chimed in, “Hey, that’s not fair! It sounds like our production team isn’t putting in the effort.”
He deliberately glanced at Pei Tingsong as he finished. “Our post-production team works so hard! Just muting Little Pei’s voice alone is exhausting.”
Fang Juexia burst out laughing immediately. He glanced at the screen and then at Pei Tingsong. ” He deliberately glanced at Pei Tingsong as he spoke. “The post-production team works so hard. Just muting Little Pei’s voice is exhausting enough.”
Fang Juexia burst out laughing first, shooting a sideways glance at Pei Tingsong beside her.
“Shui Ge,” Pei Tingsong rolled his eyes. “You really are my real brother.”
[Hahahahahaha Miao Miao is already calling out Pei Ting for being such a wimp!]
[Oh no, the group leader’s throne is shaking]
He Ziyan adjusted the live stream camera angle. “Hello everyone! It’s time for our Escape Reaction preview! If you want to watch along with us, head over to Weibo and open the preview yourselves.”
[Got it!!]
[Time to screenshot memes! Let’s go, sisters!]
Jiang Miao directed Lu Yuan: “Turn up the brightness and make the sound louder.”
“Got it.”
“Shh, it’s starting.”
The trailer opened with a TV screen in darkness, broadcasting a news report. But it seemed malfunctioning—the screen flickered incessantly, so badly that the actual broadcast was indistinguishable. Fang Juexia listened closely to the background sound, detecting a faint hum of sirens.
The TV image abruptly cut out, turning into pure static.
Ling Yi rubbed his arms. “Wow, this opening has a bit of a horror movie vibe.”
“Isn’t it more like a suspense film?” Lu Yuan countered.
A voiceover appeared, reading the contents of an anonymous letter received by Zhai Ying.
[Dear Detective, I’m reaching out to ask for your help in tracking down a fugitive. This individual is deeply sinister and exceptionally skilled at concealing their identity…]
Jiang Miao frowned. “So it’s another murder case?”
“Seems like it!” Ling Yi stroked his chin. “Let me see who the killer is this time—don’t get caught by me, the legendary detective Ling Yi.”
The preview footage zoomed forward relentlessly, the camera closing in on the television screen until static filled the entire frame. Suddenly, the image distorted into a dizzying vortex of black and white swirls. The narration abruptly ceased as the video revealed a pocket watch swinging back and forth. Background sound returned—a steady male voice reciting hypnotic incantations with methodical precision.
Swaying back and forth, the watch chain snapped. The scene transitioned to a pair of slender white hands gripping a blade, slicing through the rope with one final cut.
“That must be Juexia’s hand!” Lingyi turned and winked at Fang Juexia. Fang Juexia could only wink back at him.
The rope-cutting shot swiftly transitions to unlocking handcuffs. The hypnotic voice abruptly stops, replaced by another.
[I have a feeling I’m about to die.]
The video cuts to the execution platform where eliminated players depart. A crimson circle on the floor marks their exit as the production team’s voiceover appears.
[Player xxx, eliminated.]
But Pei Tingsong’s name was blurred out by the production team. Fang Juexia couldn’t help but inwardly marvel—the production team had actually edited together the words from Xia Xiqing’s diary read earlier with footage of Pei Tingsong’s execution platform, deliberately confusing viewers.
Lu Yuan perked up instantly. “Who died? Did the person who discovered the killer’s identity die, so he had a premonition?”
Pei Tingsong chuckled. “God knows.”
Everyone’s attention returned to the preview. The BGM arrived belatedly, its drumbeat intense yet not overly fast, carrying a distinctly decadent and morbid undertone. Close-ups of the six guests’ faces flashed in turn, each cut perfectly timed to the drumbeat. The final frame lingered on Zhou Ziheng’s face as he raised an eyebrow. “There may be more than one victim, but there’s only one killer.”
The scene shifted with each drumbeat, each new cut preceded by a brief black screen. Xia Xiqing retorted, “You think I killed him?”
“I don’t know.” Shang Sirui shrugged. “I need to maintain my solo persona. I have no partners.”
Zhai Ying narrowed her eyes in a sultry manner. “Could it be the killer targeted someone they thought was a white knight?”
The perspective shifts. Handcuffed Pei Tingsong and bound Fang Juexia sit facing each other across a table. Pei Tingsong curves his lips. “Got the killer role?”
Fang Juexia arched an eyebrow. “Yep. Paired with the killer in the first round. How does that feel?”
Pei Tingsong leaned forward, half-slumped over the table, his eyes fixed on Fang Juexia as he adopted a pitifully innocent expression. “I’m absolutely terrified.”
Then he laughed, letting out a genuine chuckle.
Ling Yi couldn’t help but speak up: “Wow, Pei Tingsong, that laugh is terrifying! You sound like a psychotic killer.”
The screen plunged into complete darkness once more. The background music paused, like a momentary breath held. A metallic-toned voiceover emerged, thick with tension.
[Attention all players—]
The screen lit up, music resumed, revealing the scene where Xia Xiqing stepped out—though the camera avoided his face.
[This season introduces a new character to all players—the Dual-Faced Knight.]
Two cards appeared on the phone screen: one depicting a white knight symbolizing light, the other a black knight representing darkness. The scene swiftly transitioned to another setting—a grid pattern on the wall, peeling wallpaper, and two massive doors, one black, one white.
Xia Xiquing smiled into the camera. “I am the Two-Faced Knight.”
“What a coincidence,” Pei Tingsong raised an eyebrow. “So am I.”
Fang Juexia’s gaze held a hint of skepticism as he lifted his eyebrow, the birthmark at the corner of his eye clearly visible. “Then which side did you choose?”
In the frame, the ultimate door slams open. Beneath the backlit exit, words appear: Escape to Heaven—True or False Knight.
Even without visuals, Pei Tingsong’s deep voice cuts through clearly.
“Which side I chose doesn’t matter.”
“As long as our alliance remains unbroken, I am your knight.”
The trailer concluded with a whistled melody from the BGM, leaving a lingering sense of suspense.
“Escape to Heaven truly delivers!” The six of them clapped in unison.
“Our Fourth and Sixth have so many scenes. They’re clearly cannon fodder characters.”
“Hahahaha, absolutely.”
Teasing aside, Fang Juexia had to admit Escape from Heaven’s production team knew how to play. Each trailer delivered intense thrills with top-notch atmosphere, yet managed to avoid any spoilers—it was impressive they didn’t let the previews give anything away. This time, they even broke their usual pattern: instead of hiding the killer with sparse teasers, they revealed it outright. Bold move.
“Got it!” Ling Yi fiddled with a non-existent Conan bowtie on his neck. “Xiao Pei is the Knight! Right? Right?” He immediately shook Fang Juexia’s arm. “Blink if I’m right.”
Fang Juexia couldn’t help but laugh. “Can’t say—we’re live streaming.”
Ling Yi threw caution to the wind. “Turn it off! Right now!”
The bullet comments erupted in protest.
[Hey hey hey, someone needs to watch their language!]
[Turn off the livestream????? 01, look me in the eye and say that again?]
[Are we really that unimportant?]
Jiang Miao analyzed earnestly, “This game feels really complex. The first half focused entirely on the Killer, and I thought it would be like Season 1 with just the Killer as the special role. But then suddenly, a Double Knight appeared out of nowhere in the latter half. It looks like it’s going to be super thrilling.”
Fang Juexia recalled the heart-pounding nerves he felt during filming—it was indeed thrilling.
Lu Yuan shuddered. “Xiao Pei’s smile gave me goosebumps.”
“Based on the show’s previous patterns,” He Ziyan analyzed calmly, “the more villainous a character seems, the less likely they are to be the villain—it’s just a feint. So Xiao Pei is definitely a good character.”
Ling Yi started tugging at Pei Tingsong’s arm from behind Fang Juexia again. “Right? If you agree, give me a wink!”
Pei Tingsong raised his hand, mimed zipping his own lips shut, then brought his hand to Fang Juexia’s mouth and zipped his as well.
[hahahaha grapevine with a tight-lipped vine]
[Thank goodness the production team didn’t invite 01. Otherwise, with his personality, he’d be live-streaming spoilers the moment filming wrapped.]
[I think Huo Ge’s analysis makes sense! The production team made Xiao Pei look so villainous—maybe he’s the unlucky one who gets killed by the killer!]
[Juexia Brother’s styling looks so good (wrong focus! Baby Juexia looks so handsome and refined in glasses!)]
[Hurry up and air already! A week is torture!]
The previous guest controversy already gave Escape Room Season 2 massive buzz, making it a hit before filming even started. With the trailer finally out, the original cast’s strong return plus a new hot CP naturally sparked huge discussion.
When the guest lineup was officially announced, the newly added idol was widely criticized by most netizens, with many even writing lengthy rants about how Season 2 was a cheap imitation. But after seeing the clip of Pei Tingsong and Fang Juexia facing off at the same table, public opinion shifted significantly.
[@EscapeTodayAiredYet: AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Whispering—the guy with glasses is seriously gorgeous. I’m totally hooked again.]
[@223333: Holy crap, where did the Escape crew find all these gods? That guy in handcuffs—from saying he was scared to breaking into a smile? I totally imagined a whole series about a psychotic serial killer.]
[@Today’sVocabularyStillUnfinished: Suddenly get the shipvibe between PTS and FJX! Yandere younger top x calm, refined bottom—they’re so perfect together! No wonder they skyrocketed from the Arctic Circle to a super-hot pairing!]
[@StickyRice: Wow, this teaser is longer than the previous ones! The opening news segment paired with the detective’s plea letter feels like the “murder case” format we’ve seen before. The killer is probably connected to the actual murderer in the storyline. Does the combination of the pocket watch and the monologue hint at hypnosis? And the new Knight card is so cool! Black or white, this has real potential! But based on the show’s track record, the more exaggerated the character in the teaser, the more likely they’re a good guy in the actual episode. Can’t bet on anyone now. Can’t wait for next Friday!]
[@CherryCokeFlavor: fjx is seriously drop-dead gorgeous. I can’t even focus on what he’s saying when I see his face… How did Astar let someone with that face slip through? I just don’t get it.]
[@You’reMyLittleBro replying to @CherryCoke: Totally agree! Fang Juexia’s aura is killer—he’s so cold and distant, but every time he speaks or furrows his brow, it feels like he’s flirting with me! I know I’m crazy, fans, go easy on me…]
[@DizzyDaisy: They say Escape Room picks guests based on IQ, but the more I watch, the more it seems like they pick based on looks instead? One guest is hotter than the next, and the new girl is so fierce—she’s my new husband!]
[@NoMoreIdols: No way, I just came from another trending topic, and now seeing PTS being so aggressive is totally breaking my immersion. You’re so aggressive, what are you scared of, bro?]
[@EatGrapesPlantGrapevines replies to @NoMoreIdols: Hahahaha, prawns and pig hearts!]
The viral silly group variety show, combined with the hype from the popular program’s preview, propelled Kaleido back onto the trending charts. The group’s official Weibo and members’ personal accounts gained followers at an alarming rate. The new album teasers in the variety show also worked their magic, drawing more attention to their upcoming release.
Coincidentally, Astar’s Seven Stars also made their comeback around this time, kicking off their promotional stages yesterday. Major forums have already opened threads for predictions, debating the performance of both groups’ comebacks. However, most still believe Qiao and Kaleido aren’t even in the same league, and their results can’t possibly be comparable.
The members of Star Chart and Kaleido know better than anyone how crucial this comeback is—it’s a watershed moment that could make or break them. With their current high visibility, strong results could bring in massive new fans, and even skyrocketing popularity isn’t out of the question. But if they flop, they’ll inevitably be mocked into oblivion, reduced to their former status.
Originally, China’s entertainment industry lacked music show programs. However, with the continuous rise of idol groups and growing demand for performance stages, major video platforms began operating their own music show programs. Over the past two years, these shows have cultivated stable viewership. Yet, given their short history and capital-driven nature, they remain deeply entrenched in murky waters, making true fairness and impartiality difficult to achieve.
When kaleido debuted, they were originally scheduled for a month of promotional time. However, rumors of behind-the-scenes deals sparked backlash from haters, cutting their promotional period to just one week—and they could only perform one title track. Their second mini-album also failed to make much of a splash. Star Map lacked the funds to grease the wheels, leaving them powerless as platforms squeezed their opportunities to make room for other groups.
The entertainment industry is ruthlessly pragmatic. Now that Kaleido has gained traction, platforms are reaching out even before their new album teaser drops, inquiring about their comeback schedule to secure collaborations.
Fang Xia has always remained detached from the industry’s shifting loyalties. He exists as a complete outsider, concerned solely with singing and dancing—nothing else matters to him. His days with teammates were packed with nothing but practice and recording sessions.
Changing into a loose white linen shirt and black wide-leg pants in the dressing room, Fang Juexia closed the locker and received a WeChat message from Liang Ruo. Since the charity gala, he hadn’t been messaging him constantly like before. He’d thought Liang Ruo had given up, but here was another message.
He tapped to open it.
[Astar Liang Ruo: Juexia, I’m not trying to pester you. I have something extremely important to discuss. Please call me back when you can. It’s crucial.]
Fang Juexia swiped left to delete the message and followed the others into the practice room.
To achieve razor-sharp precision in their group choreography, Star Chart had specially brought in two choreographers from the company—one at the front and one at the back—picking apart every detail to refine the overall effect through relentless practice.
“That’s enough for now. Take a break. We’ll continue tonight,” the choreographer clapped his hands. “Go grab something to eat. Oh, Juexia.”
Called back, Fang Juexia lifted his head, sweat glistening in his eyes.
The choreographer approached. “Your practice intensity has been too high lately. I know you’re a dedicated kid, but if this continues, I fear your injuries might flare up again. You won’t be able to handle the promotional schedule.”
Fang Juexia nodded. “I’ll be careful.”
“Don’t stress too much. We still have two weeks before the MV shoot. Plenty of time.” The teacher patted his shoulder. “Besides, you’re already doing great.”
“Thank you, teacher.”
As soon as the choreographer left, Lu Yuan called everyone to go eat. Fang Juexia wasn’t feeling hungry, so he told them to go ahead without him.
He was the only one left in the practice room. Fang Juexia lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe sweat from his brow, staring at his reflection in the mirror. That WeChat message must have reminded him of his days training at Astar. All those who debuted from Seven Stars had once fought alongside him in this very practice room. Competition at major agencies was a hundred times fiercer than at smaller ones. Every day before debut was a nerve-wracking survival battle. Back then, he’d practically gotten used to sleeping in the practice room.
He knew the choreography for the past few songs inside out. Even if blindfolded on stage now, he was confident he could flawlessly execute the entire performance. But now everything was new, essentially starting from scratch. He had to rehearse until there was absolutely no chance of error, just like before, before he could feel confident taking the stage.
With that thought, Fang Juexia restarted the music. Standing before the mirror, he loosened the black tie from his shirt, removed it, covered his eyes with it, and tied it securely behind his head.
He returned to the familiar darkness.
This was his mental stage. Every step was meticulously controlled within predetermined distances, his position within the group precisely defined. In the darkness, his five teammates appeared one by one, assembling into the complete group dance formation. Even the slightest miscalculation in distance could lead to a mistake on stage. One error might trigger an unimaginable chain reaction. He couldn’t afford to gamble; he had to practice repeatedly, reducing the failure rate to the absolute minimum.
After blindfolded group dance practice, Fang Juexia connected his phone to the speakers to prepare for solo practice of the central dance break he’d perform alone. He slipped off his shoes, barefoot on the studio floor.
This choreography was co-created with a classical dance instructor, blending classical dance aesthetics to contrast sharply with the chorus’s intense choreography. Each movement was bold and expansive yet fluidly supple and resilient, flowing like clouds and water. For stage impact, they incorporated numerous high-difficulty moves. Though his childhood dream had slipped away, Fang Juexia’s classical dance foundation remained intact after all these years, making the execution surprisingly effortless.
Taking a deep breath, he launched into two consecutive back handsprings. His legs lifted, his torso arched backward, soaring through the air like a swallow before landing solidly. In sync with the music, Fang Juexia stood on his right leg while lifting his left leg sideways upward, nearly forming a vertical line with his right leg. He flawlessly completed the final high-leg-lift hold.
In the darkness, his hearing became exceptionally sharp. As the music shifted, he thought he heard a click.
“Who?”
Had they returned?
Feeling uneasy, Fang Juexia slowly lowered his raised leg. He reached behind him with both hands to untie the tie covering his eyes. But the moment he removed it, he sensed something was wrong.
The practice room lights were off. He couldn’t see a thing.
Before he could react, an attacker in the darkness swiftly pinned his arms behind his back, shoved him violently toward the mirror, and pressed his shoulders down, forcing his entire body against the cold glass. Warm, dangerous body heat pressed against his back. Having just finished dancing, Fang Juexia hadn’t yet caught his breath. His chest heaved violently, his toes unconsciously digging into the cold floor.
A soft chuckle echoed in the darkness. Fang Juexia instantly recognized the voice. “Pei Tingsong.”
He sighed softly, breathless. “Are you done playing?”
The other seemed to wait a moment before finally releasing him, replying lazily, “You’re no fun.”
Fang Juexia turned, leaning his back against the mirror. “You’re the one who’s fun—turning off the lights and robbing people while they dance.”
Pei Tingsong merely smiled without reply. He’d only gone downstairs to grab a bite, intending to bring some back for Fang Juexia too. But upon returning, he’d found Fang blindfolded, practicing his dance. The sight was mesmerizing—his movements fluid as clouds, especially that final leg lift where the loose trouser leg slid down his straight, pale leg, utterly breathtaking.
This was the first time Pei Tingsong had seen him practice like this, and he couldn’t help but get mischievous, wanting to tease him a little.
“Go turn on the lights.” Fang Juexia sat down leaning against the mirror.
“No.”
Knowing he wouldn’t be so obedient, Fang Juexia wanted to check the time, so he said, “Then bring me my phone.”
Pei Tingsong turned on the flashlight on his own phone, walked over to the stereo to grab Fang Juexia’s phone, then crouched down in front of him. “Beg me.” Fang Juexia, who had paused his dance practice, radiated an exhausted laziness. He merely lifted his eyes and held out his hand.
Seeing this, Pei Tingsong felt a strange reluctance to refuse. He handed the phone over and sat down in front of him. “What’s that jump-off move you did earlier called? It was beautiful.”
At the mention of dance, a faint smile touched Fang Juexia’s lips. He picked up the tie from the floor, looped it around his neck, and murmured, “The Swallow-Style Purple Gold Crown.”
What a beautiful name. Pei Tingsong’s gaze followed his hand down to the open collar of his shirt before shifting away. “You’re jumping with your eyes covered like that. Aren’t you afraid something might happen?”
“What could possibly happen?” Fang Juexia looked down at his phone, his words slow and deliberate. “The studio floor is perfectly flat. I’m not likely to trip.”
He wasn’t referring to that, of course.
“Like what I just did—turning off the lights, sneaking in, knocking you unconscious. You wouldn’t even have a chance to fight back.”
Fang Juexia curved his lips, still not looking up. “Besides you, who else would treat me like this?”
Somehow, those words struck a nerve in Pei Tingsong. He felt both relieved and unbearably restless. This conflicting emotion had been tugging at his heart lately, a constant, relentless pull.
He cracked his neck, shifting his focus. “Eat something. I brought you a salad.”
Fang Juexia took a deep breath, sliding down the mirror like a limp snake until he lay crooked on the floor, his head resting on his outstretched arm. “I’m so tired, no energy. Let’s talk later.”
Watching him lie there, for some reason, Pei Tingsong felt his ears start to burn. He stood up, grabbed the salad he’d bought, and walked over to snatch Fang Juexia’s phone.
“Eat up. I went out of my way to buy this. If you don’t eat it, I’m going to yell at you.”
Fang Juexia was no longer the person who used to avoid him and treat him like air. Hearing this, he actually laughed, lying on his side on the floor and looking up at Pei Tingsong. “Go ahead and scold me.”
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