“Huh?”
Watching Fang Juexia return to dancing, Ling Yi felt something was off, not quite right, though he couldn’t pinpoint it. He relayed the live updates to the Candy Squad.
[Kaledo’s Top Dog: Anyone there?]
[Your Fire Brother Still Your Fire Brother: Not a single 1 or 0. This world is peaceful.]
[National Level Flower-Hand Performance Artist: Double X]
[Essential Home Captain]: What’s up Yi Yi?
[Kaleido’s Top Dog: Didn’t I just show Juexia Xiao Pei’s Weibo post? He was looking at it and suddenly gave this mysterious smile, you know? He was actually smiling while reading it!]
[National Level Finger-Flicking Artist: Is it that kind of smile? [fake smile boy·jpg]]
[Kaleido’s Top Dog: No! It was a genuine smile! I asked him, “Juexia, shouldn’t you be totally against Xiao Pei acting so reckless?” Guess what he said?]
[Your Fire Brother Is Still Your Fire Brother: He said, “If I were a DJ, would you love me?”]
[National First-Class Finger-Flicking Artist: Hahahahahaha!]
[Kaledo’s Top Dog: Oh no, not that! He said he supports whatever I do. Guess what? Juexia must be possessed. How could he become so… so… ugh, I can’t even find the words.]
[The Essential Captain at Home: Pampering.]
[National First-Class Finger-Flicking Artist: Eeek~]
[National First-Class Finger-Flicking Artist: Not necessarily possessed by a ghost. Might be possessed by someone afraid of ghosts (just kidding).]
[Your Fire Brother is Still Your Fire Brother: Screenshot taken.]
[Essential Captain for Every Home: Alright, you two. Keep your teammate CP talk a bit more restrained.]
Seeing the captain’s serious tone, Ling Yi felt a slight flicker of fear—only for the next line to be:
[Essential Captain for Every Home: Just don’t dance in front of the fans.]
So that’s what he was worried about??
Pei Tingsong had been trending for two days. His statement tore through the entertainment industry’s habitual facade of calm in one breath. While sparking controversy, it unexpectedly garnered significant support.
Netizens had long harbored deep frustration over the entertainment industry’s growing trend of celebrity “silencing.” In this era where speaking out could be a death sentence, public figures wore masks of silence, uttering only polished, flawless platitudes. Their lives became performances, devoid of genuine expression.
Pei Tingsong emerged as a living, breathing exception—shattering the puppet masks and defiantly breaking this unspoken rule. He chose to express himself, and did so with sharp edges and raw emotion.
His fans, however, are savvy enough to capitalize on the buzz. While several particularly trending hashtags were still active, they rode the wave by releasing numerous clips of him from the group’s haunted house variety show.
[@UnderTheGrapevines: We cordially invite you to watch as the #HumanMiddleFingerPeiTingsong instantly transforms into the #HumanSilencingDevice in this life-changing moment! [Video]]
Those who clicked in expecting the mic-dropping troll were greeted by a scaredy-cat rapper hitting high notes in all sorts of ways. This unexpected cuteness turned many viewers into enthusiastic fans.
[@PeiPeiPeiDrinkWater: Hahahahaha you’re telling me this is the same Pei Tingsong who cursed people out on mic???]
[@LeopardZebraCutie: The whole “Middle Finger of Humanity” persona is fake! [dog head emoji]]
[@123WoodenMan: Hahahaha I can’t even connect him to the guy cursing on Weibo (ps these two guys have such… chemistry)]
[@Diiidi: Shifting focus here—this guy’s English is so smooth, his accent is killer]
A small agency like Xingtu simply couldn’t control this level of heat. They could only try their best to steer public opinion and avoid being exploited. That said, no one dared to actually go after Pei Tingsong.
Cheng Qiang had been worried that the sports brand might suffer backlash from Pei Tingsong’s outburst. When the trending topic exploded, he even called the brand to give them a heads-up. To his surprise, they showed no negativity—they were actually thrilled.
“The online response is quite positive, isn’t it? It perfectly aligns with the bold, youthful style we’re promoting for this collection. Pei Tingsong embodies our aesthetic perfectly. And Fang Juexia—one composed, one flamboyant—creates a striking contrast. They represent two distinct types of youth, which is ideal.”
Cheng Qiang finally exhaled in relief. Managing a ticking time bomb as an artist was no easy feat.
On the day of the commercial shoot, Cheng Qiang drove them to the location. Fang Juexia got in the car and gazed out the window. The plane trees lining the tree-lined road had grown so tall they now nearly obscured half the sky. Busy people lack awareness—summer had arrived without them noticing.
“After today’s shoot wraps, you’ll get some downtime. Then there’ll be a few scattered commitments,” Cheng Qiang said as he started the car. “The boss wants to push for a mini-album release this summer.”
“Are we still going to the Maldives?” Pei Tingsong asked.
Fang Juexia couldn’t help but laugh. “Have you become Ling Yi’s spokesperson now?”
“Get lost.” Cheng Qiang buckled his seatbelt. “We’re going to the Maldives for the final episode of the group variety show. We’ll only film the first two days—the rest is yours to enjoy freely. We won’t be filming those days.”
“Seriously? That sounds awesome.” Pei Tingsong casually draped his arm around Fang Juexia’s shoulder. “Then I want to share a room with Brother Juexia.”
Cheng Qiang shot him a glare. “You think I’m a burden, huh? I haven’t even settled the score with you for vanishing that day!”
At the mention of this, Fang Juexia felt a pang of embarrassment and turned his gaze out the window.
Pei Tingsong, however, was thick-skinned. He grinned and said, “So what? How old am I that I still need people following me around?”
At this, Fang Juexia seemed to recall something.
“Right, I’ve been feeling a bit strange lately.”
“What’s strange?” Cheng Qiang drove out of the residential compound.
Pei Tingsong released his shoulder and sat up straight, watching Fang Juexia. His brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t know if I’m just being paranoid, but lately I keep feeling like someone’s following me. Yet when I turn around, there’s no one there.”
Hearing him call it paranoia, Pei Tingsong immediately countered, “Don’t underestimate humans’ instinctive sense of danger. Sometimes it’s spot-on. This isn’t paranoia.” His tone grew slightly irritated. “These paparazzi have gotten disgusting lately. They’re definitely following you too.”
“In the dorm?” Cheng Qiang asked.
Fang Juexia shook his head. “Just on the way back to the dorm, or near the company. It’s only been happening these past couple of days. I never felt this way before.”
“After finishing the commercial shoot, take a few days to rest properly in the dorm, or go out and have some fun,” Cheng Qiang suggested. “Don’t come to the company so often for now. You need a break too. You’ve been working nonstop for too long.”
Watching Fang Juexia nod calmly, Pei Tingsong wanted to hold him.
He was usually fearless, but now he seemed to have a real soft spot—the slightest touch from others made him ache terribly.
The ad campaign’s theme was “Express Your True Self.” They needed to showcase the youth-focused summer collection, requiring four versions of TV commercials, a full series of print ads, and of course, behind-the-scenes footage and promotional videos for the launch period.
Upon arriving at the shoot location, Cheng Qiang spotted the marketing director they’d met before. The director waved from afar and approached warmly. “You’re here early. Was the traffic okay?”
“We were worried about getting stuck on the Second Ring Road, so we roused them early.”
The director chuckled. “Right. There’s something I need to discuss with you. The behind-the-scenes video we planned—the quick-fire Q&A segment—was deemed too similar to a previous magazine feature. Headquarters wants us to change it. Our marketing team pulled an all-nighter, incorporating current hot topics into a new proposal. Take a look. If it works for you, we’ll…”
He handed them copies of the proposal. Fang Juexia glanced down, and the first line of fine print immediately caught his eye—Read negative comments and respond.
“Of course, this isn’t something every celebrity would agree to, so it’s just one of our options. We also have a ‘Done or Not Done’ mini-game as an alternative.”
The moment he saw “Read negative comments,” Cheng Qiang glanced at Fang Juexia. He knew Pei Tingsong didn’t really care, but Fang Juexia had endured far too much online abuse in the past.
Fang Juexia flipped through the pages, looked up, and saw Cheng Qiang watching him. He smiled. “What’s up, Brother Qiang?”
“Oh, nothing. Do you think it’s okay?”
For some reason, Fang Juexia felt like he’d moved past his triggers now. Maybe his mindset had changed; he felt much more mature than before.
“I can do it.” He glanced at Pei Tingsong. “It’s not just me, after all.”
Pei Tingsong couldn’t honestly say he wasn’t worried, but he also knew that if Fang Juexia truly disliked it, he would refuse. He wasn’t the type to swallow his pride; on the contrary, he was incredibly brave.
Seeing their willingness, the marketing director breathed a sigh of relief. The plan he’d worked on through the night wouldn’t go to waste. He added, “Actually, we’ve filtered these negative comments. None are overly extreme. If you’re still uneasy, we can bring them over for you to review first.”
Fang Juexia smiled. “That won’t be necessary. Reading them later would spoil the surprise.”
Hearing this, the marketing director was a bit surprised.
He had expected Fang Juexia, who had endured online harassment before, to firmly reject the proposal. Instead, he was surprisingly easygoing and cooperative.
During the shoot, Fang Juexia and Pei Tingsong changed into six new outfits, with locations switching repeatedly as filming stretched from morning into dusk. The entire team was highly professional. Stylists tailored the clothing and accessories to each star’s distinct personality, maximizing their unique appeal.
The photographer praised their expressiveness endlessly, even declaring it a “perfect shoot with no wasted frames.” Yet Fang Juexia remained his usual self—bowing, thanking everyone, and acknowledging their hard work.
Even now, surrounded by so many admirers, he never forgot the cold stares they endured along their journey. Just thinking about it grounded him—reminding him his feet were still firmly planted on earth, not floating away.
“Alright! One last promotional video. Thanks for your hard work, both of you.”
Fang Juexia wore a lake-blue athletic ensemble: a raglan-sleeve T-shirt emblazoned with “Feel Me” on the front, paired with matching shorts and blue-and-white sneakers.
From a distance, he resembled a tall, slender metasequoia—beautiful, precious, and brimming with vitality.
Pei Tingsong watched him from behind, unable to tear his eyes away. The loose pant legs swayed in the breeze, revealing a pair of pale, long legs that almost glowed. Muscles were evenly defined beneath the fabric, shifting and pulling with his movements.
His ankles were especially beautiful—slightly arched from the side, with rounded bones and slender wrists you could almost grasp. When the veins on his heels tensed upward, it carried a unique, youthful sensuality.
“You two sit in front of this camera position, okay?”
Without a host, they managed the show themselves. Staff placed comment cards on the table before them—a small stack for each. The black cards bore negative remarks from haters, one per card.
Fang Juexia picked up a card and delivered the opening line expressionlessly to the camera: “The hate comment challenge begins.”
Pei Tingsong nudged his shoulder. “Hey, try to control your expression a bit.”
Fang Juexia turned to look at him, rubbing his own cheek. “Is my expression really that bad?”
Pei Tingsong casually picked up a card from his own stack and lifted Fang Juexia’s chin with it. “What I mean is, could you please show a little more emotion? Otherwise, it’d be disrespectful to the haters who wrote these comments—they put a lot of effort into disliking us.”
“Oh.” Fang Juexia looked down at the card and made a very earnest effort to frown, showing his commitment. Pei Tingsong ruffled his hair. “Such a good boy.”
Fang Juexia glared at him and pushed his hand away.
Pei Tingsong nearly burst out laughing. Seriously, he’s way more temperamental with me than with the haters.
“I’ll go first.” He picked up the first black card and began reading aloud, “Am I the only one who thinks Pei Tingsong is a total dickhead?”
For some reason, hearing himself say it out loud made Fang Juexia burst into laughter.
“Your reaction makes it sound like you wrote that yourself.”
Fang Juexia’s smile lingered. “Exactly. Team discord confirmed.”
Pei Tingsong tossed the card aside. “Right, only you. You’re the electricity, you’re the light, you’re the only trash.” He added with a pout, “That’s it? Seriously? Give me something juicy.”
Fang Juexia pulled out a card, his tone flat—almost robotic.
“Fang Juexia loves hyping up his math skills. What kind of idol is that?”
Fang Juexia pulled out another card, his tone flat and almost robotic.
“Fang Juexia loves hyping up his math genius persona so much, but what kind of idol is that? The entertainment industry doesn’t need high IQs. Wouldn’t you be better off teaching math?”
After reading it, he thought carefully before responding, “Actually, I do have a teaching certificate. If I don’t make it big, I was planning to go back to my hometown to teach.” He then half-heartedly gave a thumbs-up. “Great prophet.”
Pei Tingsong was amused by his pretty darling. Looking down at the black card with the negative review, even his expression carried a hint of a smile. No, he had to keep his cool.
Clearing his throat, Pei Tingsong continued, “I really don’t get how trash like PTS even got famous? Just because they have a few bucks? So what if they’re rich kids? Why ruin the entertainment industry? Go inherit your family fortune instead.”
Pei Tingsong tapped the cards on the table. “Modern netizens love answering their own questions—no need for me to say it. But I’m not just ‘a few bucks.’” He tossed the cards aside. “I’m super rich.”
It was terrifying. Fang Juexia shook his head, pulled out a negative comment, and read it aloud without hesitation.
“Fang Juexia is easily the most talentless entertainer I’ve ever seen. He’s dull and boring, lacking any human warmth. He’s like a mass-produced product—utterly soulless. I sometimes wonder if he’s mute. How could anyone possibly like such a cold, lifeless idol?”
This comment made Pei Tingsong seethe with anger. People online didn’t understand Fang Juexia at all. They were judging him based on their own preconceived notions, subjective and full of bias.
Fang Juexia put down the cards and pondered seriously for a moment. “Why would anyone like me?”
“Based on the online comments I’ve analyzed, most point to one answer: because I’m pretty good-looking.”
That was the honest truth.
Pei Tingsong laughed, his earlier anger completely swept away. Fang Juexia was Fang Juexia. It would be best if only he could see this vibrant, genuine side of him. That way, he’d have one less rival to contend with—a treasure to claim as his own.
With that thought, he drew another card. “Most annoying are celebrities like Pei Tingsong who play this hot-tempered persona. What’s with the act of being so ‘honest’? He can’t even curse properly without sounding like he’s holding back. Don’t you get it? The more you earn, the more you suffer. You chose this life. Being a star means big bucks—sacrificing privacy isn’t going to kill you.”
The words were harsh, but Fang Juexia knew Pei Tingsong well. Just as he raised his middle finger, Fang grabbed his hand, pulling it toward himself and clasping it tightly.
With his middle finger restrained, Pei Tingsong felt his expression constrained. He tugged twice but couldn’t free it, so he gave up, letting Fang hold it. He clicked his tongue twice and repeated a line from the negative comments: “…the more money you make, the more suffering you endure.” He raised an eyebrow. “I was born with enough money to last several lifetimes. Why should I suffer?”
“And your logic? It’s more tangled than the relationship chart of the Sea King’s fishing grounds.”
Fang Juexia looked at him and asked earnestly, “What’s a Sea King?”
“The Sea King is a superhero whose superpower is managing fishing grounds,” Pei Tingsong replied with equal seriousness.
Is that so? Fang Juexia, the internet-addicted teenager, found it all rather odd.
He continued, “People like you—spending your days idly spouting nonsense online while deluding yourself into thinking you’re the only sober one among drunks—are essentially pessimists and flawed logical thinkers. You use your narrow-minded views to create self-consistent illusions, satisfying your emotional needs.”
“Because you’re a failure in life, incapable of forming healthy social connections, and unable to receive positive emotional feedback, you desperately need an outlet for your negativity. You even try to rationalize your venting by targeting people online—especially celebrities—because they can’t fight back like dogs fighting dogs. Your existence might not benefit society either. Read more books. Reading never produces garbage.”
Hearing this string of profanity-free insults, Fang Juexia’s first reaction was to logically patch his holes: “No, he is useful to society.”
Pei Tingsong stared at him with an “excuse me” expression, but Fang Juexia continued deadpan, “He’s useful as a specimen showcasing human diversity. Specimens hold observational and inductive value.”
A lifetime of social interaction is essentially collecting human specimens.
Pei Tingsong couldn’t help but laugh.
This guy even delivered the final blow with such politeness.
Fang Juexia picked up another card and read aloud, “The entertainment industry is full of demons and monsters these days. How could those scandalous stories about hidden rules be whitewashed so quickly? Each generation of top stars is worse than the last.”
The words “unspoken rules” grated on Pei Tingsong’s ears, making him uncomfortable. Yet Fang Juexia remained calm, still holding Pei Tingsong’s middle finger as he took the card and tapped it lightly on the table.
“I’ve explained this before, and I’ll explain it again: the ‘unspoken rules’ are rumors. Remember this: no matter what demonic mask you wear online, underneath lies a human being who cannot evade legal accountability.”
The staff watching were stunned. They knew Pei Tingsong was a tough negotiator, but they hadn’t expected the seemingly gentle and quiet Fang Juexia to be so direct.
Today, Fang Juexia finally realized he had grown. In the past, he treated the aftereffects of malice by avoiding allergens. But now, he could accept the possibility of being disliked with a clear conscience.
Before the camera, he set down the card and added, “I’ve noted your ID. It will be handed over to the company’s legal department in five minutes.”
Author’s Note: There are similar shows in Europe and America that still provide IDs.
“Narcissistic manipulator” is the term now used online for someone who keeps multiple ambiguous partners on the hook, practicing “fishing pond management” with them—their relationships are incredibly complex and chaotic.
