Fang Juexia clenched his fists tightly, his emotions surging the moment he heard the news, nearly overwhelming him.
But he quickly regained his composure. When he looked up at Cheng Qiang, a flicker of regret rose in his heart.
“I’m sorry, Brother Qiang. I’ve been meaning to come clean about this, but I never found the right moment.”
Cheng Qiang was indeed startled upon first seeing the news, but the recent storms had tempered his resilience. He ushered the two into his office, gestured for them to sit, and then spoke. “I know it’s difficult for you to share such private matters, and this isn’t immediate exposure either—there’s still room to mitigate the situation. We’ll stabilize the situation first. Such a large PR fee requires company approval—they won’t release it immediately.”
“Brother Qiang,” Pei Tingsong interjected, “Send me that anonymous letter. I’ll have someone investigate.”
Cheng Qiang nodded. “Alright, I’ll contact the PR team.”
“I’ll handle it,” Pei Tingsong said, his head down as he typed a message. “We need the most expensive, top-tier PR firm. With all these scandals piling up lately, I’ve been itching to take someone down.”
Cheng Qiang sighed, turning to Fang Juexia. “Juexia, things have reached this point. I need you to tell everything exactly as it happened.”
Fang Juexia wrestled internally. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak—confronting his father’s ugliness was agonizingly painful—but he had no other choice.
He took a deep breath, meeting Cheng Qiang’s gaze as he attempted to recount his past with the utmost calm and objectivity.
“He was once a promising dancer, but a stage accident left him disabled, ending his career. He then turned to alcoholism, domestic violence, and eventually drugs. Ten years ago, he abandoned me and my mother, taking all our money with him. Not long ago, I saw him again. He’d been using drugs for years. The first thing he wanted to do when he saw me was knock me unconscious and kidnap me for ransom money to buy drugs. We sent him to rehab, thinking that would be the end of it, but unexpectedly…”
He recounted the entire process with clear logic, omitting details and devoid of any emotional coloration, as if merely retelling an event unrelated to him. Yet to Cheng Qiang, every word felt like blood-soaked tears. He couldn’t fathom that a father could do such things to his own son.
Knocked unconscious, kidnapped, exchanged for money.
These were the real experiences Fang Juexia endured while they remained unaware. From the very first day Cheng Qiang took over Kaleido, the child before him had been his greatest concern. Despite having the best of everything, he was taciturn, terrified of making mistakes, living each day as if walking a tightrope.
He couldn’t help but grasp Fang Juexia’s shoulders, but Fang Juexia only shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m just sorry I didn’t tell you about this when he first appeared. Now that it’s happened, it’s so urgent.”
Cheng Qiang gave a bitter smile. “It wouldn’t have made much difference. If someone truly intended to drag the son down with his drug-addicted father, even preparing from the moment of his debut wouldn’t have prevented the damage.”
Debut.
Hearing those two words, Fang Juexia felt his throat go dry, as if thousands of icy needles were piercing his face.
He was born with a birthmark on his face, suffered from night blindness that made dim stage performances impossible, and carried the ticking time bomb of a drug-addicted biological father.
Such a person. Such a him.
“I’m sorry,” Fang Juexia lifted his head, his eyes reddened, murmuring, “I really shouldn’t have debuted…”
Pei Tingsong immediately clasped his hand. “What are you saying? Fang Juexia, let me repeat this: you were born for the stage. If even you aren’t worthy, then no one is.”
How could someone he treasured so deeply allow himself to be so wronged?
Cheng Qiang knew his earlier words had emotionally triggered Fang Juexia. Guilt washed over him. “No, Juexia, you did nothing wrong here. Without you, Kaleido wouldn’t be where it is today. Do you understand? This situation isn’t unsolvable. If all else fails, pay them off to keep them quiet. Turn a big problem into a small one…”
Fang Juexia forced himself to stay calm as he laid out the logic for Cheng Qiang. “If they dared extort us once, they’ll do it again. Covering it up just creates hidden risks. With such explosive material, they won’t back down for a measly seven million. If my popularity grows even more, they’ll keep blackmailing me, using this as my Achilles’ heel.”
Fang Juexia’s gaze hardened. “But I did nothing wrong. I’m a victim too. So the truth about my father’s drug use must come out—and I must be the one to tell it.”
This path was nothing short of walking a tightrope.
Cheng Qiang’s immediate reaction was outright opposition. “How could this be acceptable? If you really reveal it, do you know how many haters and rivals will seize the opportunity to exploit it? They might even slander you as a junkie too.”
“I know.” The moment Fang Juexia learned of this, every possible slander had already played out in his mind. He knew the sting of mudslinging better than anyone.
All these years of defamation felt like stains on his soul—no matter how hard he scrubbed, they wouldn’t come off. These malicious rumors had practically fused into his flesh, becoming scars that stung at the slightest touch. No matter how he explained, no matter how hard he tried to clear his name, all he ever got in return was more scorn and vilification.
At first, he couldn’t understand why. Why wouldn’t anyone believe the truth? Gradually, he grew accustomed to it. In this circle, malice often had no reason; the truth was the least valuable thing.
So Fang Juexia’s heart grew cold bit by bit. He stopped fighting futile arguments, choosing instead to respond with his best performances.
These hideous scars have lived with him ever since.
“There’s no other way. The only thing I can do is scrape the bone to remove the poison.”
He refused to endure this any longer. He would carve out these festering sores once and for all.
Fang Juexia addressed them, and himself: “If we keep hiding this, who knows what future disasters might unfold? I won’t let this ticking time bomb spiral further out of control. As for the drug use allegations, we can arrange testing and release the proof.”
Cheng Qiang pondered as Pei Tingsong added, “We’ve already arranged a PR team—the most renowned one in the industry.”
“How much?” Fang Juexia asked.
“That’s not your concern,” Pei Tingsong continued. “They’re ready for a video conference anytime to present their strategy and response plan. But their advice aligns with what Juexia said.” He looked at Cheng Qiang. “They also believe we need to strike first.”
Kaleido was the first group Cheng Qiang had truly led. He’d weathered every storm alongside them, so his initial reaction to such situations was always relatively conservative.
“Understood. Let’s hold an emergency meeting now. I’ll also gather the company’s PR department and notify the members.”
“Mm.”
The incident involving He Ziyan hadn’t been resolved long ago, and now it was the group’s true top star who was involved. The company took it extremely seriously—even Chen Zhengyun, who had just returned from a business trip, rushed back to headquarters. After discussing the matter with Fang Juexia for a full hour and understanding the entire sequence of events, the PR team outlined a general strategy.
The lead manager on the video call stated, “Actually, Mr. Fang’s approach is correct. First, we must release the truth before the other side exposes it, preventing them from setting the narrative tone—which would be highly disadvantageous. If we take the initiative, have Mr. Fang disclose it, then coordinate articles and public opinion guidance, we can shift the focus from ‘the father of a popular star using drugs’ to ‘a tragic family background and repeated privacy breaches causing secondary trauma.’ Handling it this way will minimize damage.”
The person at the center of the incident sat at the table, the pale moonlight of the early morning casting a harsh glow on his back, his entire figure shrouded in shadow. Pei Tingsong felt a sharp pang of heartache. In the past, he might have lashed out online already, but now he understood that wasn’t a mature approach. He needed to grow up too, to protect the person he loved most.
Everyone was discussing the matter, voicing their opinions and proposed actions. Yet Fang Juexia, at the center of the storm, remained silent, listening without speaking, seemingly deep in thought.
After a long while, when the PR team had already begun contacting writers and other opinion influencers, he finally spoke up. “There’s one more thing.”
Cheng Qiang looked at him questioningly, and Chen Zhengyun immediately halted the meeting. “Go ahead.”
“Ever since this started, I’ve been wondering if my father could be behind it. He has a history of extortion.” Fang Juexia shook his head as he spoke. “But I think it’s highly unlikely, since he’s currently in a rehabilitation center, cut off from the outside world. Yet aside from me, my mother, and Xiao Pei who helped me handle this matter recently, no one else should know about it. So how did this information get out? That part really puzzles me.”
This was also a point Pei Tingsong kept pondering. He had locked Fang Ping in the most tightly controlled rehabilitation center, assigned people to monitor him around the clock, and completely isolated him from the outside world. There was no way he could have gotten out to cause trouble again.
“When he was blackmailing me, I asked him about it. He denied contacting any companies or media outlets, but I doubt that now. Fang Juexia narrowed his eyes slightly. “He claimed he spent every last penny to come to Beijing find me. That’s odd, because I’d been under surveillance for nearly a week before the failed kidnapping attempt. How did he sustain himself during that week? Especially someone addicted to drugs long-term—how could he possibly endure that long?”
Pei Tingsong had pondered this too. “Are you suspecting he met others before you? People who extracted information from him while also funding his survival?”
Fang Juexia nodded. “That’s my theory. When his cravings hit, he was barely human anymore. Anyone who could give him a little cash for drugs—he’d do anything. Whether it was selling out our relationship or something else entirely, it was all possible.”
Chen Zhengyun, who had been listening silently, suddenly latched onto the key point. “Something else?”
“Right. “ Fang Juexia looked at him. ”That’s the crucial detail I meant to add. Boss, there’s something I’ve kept hidden from everyone.”
Beneath the conference table, his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, yet outwardly he remained the composed Fang Juexia. “I have congenital night blindness. In dimly lit environments, my vision deteriorates severely—to the point of near total blindness.”
Pei Tingsong froze. He hadn’t expected Fang Juexia to reveal this as well. It meant laying bare the deepest secret he’d borne alone for years. His years of restraint and caution were now exposed.
Pei Tingsong froze. He hadn’t expected Fang Juexia to reveal this as well. It meant laying bare the deepest secret Fang had carried alone all these years. His years of restraint, caution, and painstaking practice would all vanish like bubbles.
Cheng Qiang stared in disbelief. “Night blindness? Then on stage…”
Fang Juexia replied calmly, “When the lighting isn’t bright enough, I can’t see. I have to dance relying solely on the instincts I’ve trained myself to develop. But most stages have ample lighting.” He looked at them, his eyes dim, and apologized once more, “I’m sorry I kept this from everyone.”
Chen Zhengyun’s hand rested on the table, his expression grave. He was indeed shocked, but as he replayed everything in his mind, all the previously inexplicable details suddenly made sense. He recalled the first time he’d seen this boy. Clearly gifted, born for this life, yet weighed down by a heavy burden. His slender shoulders always seemed weighed down. Silent, practicing every day. Even before his debut, he’d slept on the practice studio floor for days on end.
Now he finally understood why.
“It’s not your fault,” Chen Zhengyun smiled. “Thankfully you kept it hidden. Otherwise, we would have missed out on a genius.”
Fang Juexia had never once felt wronged over his own circumstances. But Chen Zhengyun’s words made his nose sting instantly.
Every single day since his debut, before every single performance, Fang Juexia had been restless, unable to eat or sleep. Even in his dreams, he would see himself making mistakes on a dimly lit stage, even falling, dragging the entire team down with him. In his dreams, he was subjected to everyone’s blame.
[Why did you even debut? You don’t deserve to dance on stage, do you understand?!]
[Fang Juexia, look at yourself. You were born to make mistakes on stage.]
[What’s the point of practicing?! No matter how much you practice, you’ll never stop making mistakes!]
[You want to drag everyone down with you, don’t you?]
“Yes,” Cheng Qiang said. “They’re not here now, but if they were, they’d all be thanking you. Juexia, you’re the backbone of Kaleido. Understand?”
Fang Juexia forced a smile and nodded hard to accept their affirmation. “This very thing might become another point for others to attack me. I suspect he’s already told others, so I suppose I’ll have to make this public too.”
The PR team fell silent for a moment. “It’s fine. This isn’t a major issue. Genetic conditions are private matters that don’t harm others. Besides, you’ve never made a mistake because of it over the years.”
Never.
Fang Juexia gritted his teeth and nodded.
Shortly after he made the announcement public, someone from the PR team responsible for monitoring online sentiment said, “Mr. Fang, your concerns were justified. People have already started spreading rumors about this.”
They shared screenshots of the leaks, the content vague and insinuating.
[The latest big scoop on the new top star fjx, guaranteed real. Leaked by someone extremely close to him—you’ll know who soon. He’s been hiding a long-term illness that could ruin his career. I’m waiting for you to dig up the dirt.”
The comments below were clearly orchestrated to amplify the narrative with malicious intent.
[Illness? What kind of illness could ruin his career?]
[Could it be AIDS…?]
[Now that you mention it, it might just be true. After all those rumors about the unspoken rules, it seems the hammer is finally dropping—and it’s hitting hard.]
[AIDS? Holy shit. Then what about the whole group…? Ugh, this industry is such a mess.]
[I knew those rumors about hidden rules weren’t baseless. Why did everyone say you were the one being exploited? Why not others? Just because you’re pretty and privileged?]
“Are these people seriously sick? Don’t they fear us dragging them out one by one to sue?” Cheng Qiang fumed. “Contact the moderator immediately!”
Pei Tingsong glanced at Fang Juexia, who stared coldly at the projected insults, utterly unmoved.
Habit is a terrifying thing.
But he had indeed grown accustomed to it.
Even if rumors spread today that Fang Juexia had attempted suicide in his dorm, it wouldn’t faze him much.
The PR team explained, “It’s manageable. Now that we know it’s night blindness, presenting relevant medical records and proof will clear things up. We believe Mr. Fang has all that.”
Fang Juexia nodded. He handed over every piece of evidence he could find, even proactively asking, “Should I get a full physical examination?”
Hearing this, Pei Tingsong’s heart clenched painfully.
The PR team members felt particularly conflicted. They’d handled countless scandals—entertainment couples caught cheating, estranged spouses, and even more outrageous, sensational gossip. Professionalism allowed them to smooth over such incidents, preserving their clients’ dignity.
But now, standing before them was a boy who appeared pure and unblemished. Yet he felt compelled to strip himself bare, as if he wanted to peel off his own skin to show them the flesh beneath—to prove whether it was black and filthy, as the world claimed.
The weight of public opinion threatened to shatter him, bone by bone, until he melted away.
“Before posting on Weibo, I need to talk to my mother.” Fang Juexia composed himself and rose to leave the conference room. The moment he stepped out, Pei Tingsong stood up and instructed Cheng Qiang, “I’ll go with him.”
Cheng Qiang nodded, watching Pei Tingsong hurry after him.
Fang Juexia’s silhouette was thin, like a withered leaf in the dimly lit corridor. He reached the staircase turn, halted, and his hand trembled uncontrollably as he dialed the number.
Pei Tingsong caught up, stepping before him and grasping his shaking wrist. “Juexia, don’t be afraid. I’m here.” What he didn’t realize was that his own voice was trembling uncontrollably.
It was already 2:30 a.m. The phone call went unanswered. Fang Juexia kept his head bowed, dialing again and again after each failed attempt. Transparent tears fell onto his hands and his phone screen, blurring his vision.
The tears he’d held back all night finally spilled, shed for his mother.
“What should I do…” Fang Juexia, who maintained extreme composure no matter the situation, finally showed weakness before his beloved. “Pei Tingsong, what should I do… I still have to tell her, but…”
Pei Tingsong felt his heart clench painfully. It was as if he had been transported back to that rainy summer night, watching helplessly as his already battered lover once again approached the edge of the abyss.
No matter what, this time, he would hold him first.
Pei Tingsong pulled Fang Juexia into his embrace, his voice gentle. “Juexia, come.”
Suddenly, he felt Fang Juexia had grown thinner. This man, clearly several years his senior, looked like a child in his eyes. So small, so heartbreakingly vulnerable. He dared not press too hard even as he stroked his shoulder. “Didn’t you say you didn’t want Mom to wait in vain for the rest of her life?”
“Better to cut the pain short. Even if you hide it for now, what about later?”
Fang Juexia buried his head, listening to Pei Tingsong’s questions, each one piercing his tightly closed heart.
“Are you going to make her walk alone to the end of her life, still waiting for someone who won’t return?”
He held the tragic ending of this fairy tale in his hands, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to tell his mother.
He was too afraid of disappointing her.
Fang Juexia wept silently against Pei Tingsong’s shoulder. All his bitterness, resentment, and fear poured out onto Pei Tingsong. He knew it was unfair—he should be stronger, should bear it all alone.
But at this very moment, the only shoulder in the world he wanted to lean on was Pei Tingsong’s.
Even if it was just for a minute.
“You must understand,” Pei Tingsong gently stroked his back, “for your mother, the most important thing was never her lost love. It was you.”
The phone in his hand vibrated—his mother’s reply at 2:30 a.m. Fang Juexia forced himself out of Pei’s embrace, wiped away his tears, and suppressed all emotion before daring to answer.
On the other end, his mother’s voice was anxious and worried. Fang Juexia had been navigating the world on his own for years, always gritting his teeth through whatever came his way. He had never called her this late before.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Juexia, are you sick? Mom’s awake now.”
Fang Juexia fought back the sob in his voice. “Mom, a lot has happened. I need to handle the PR right now. But there’s one thing I have to tell you.” He continued, his brow furrowed. “In June… Dad came looking for me.”
“What…?” Fang’s mother’s voice trembled. “Why… why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Because… because the day we met, he was going through withdrawal.” Fang Juexia fought desperately to hold back his emotions, but the truth was brutal. “He had a steel pipe, ready to knock me out and kidnap me because he didn’t have money for drugs. Luckily, the bodyguards stopped him and he didn’t succeed. Later, we sent him to a compulsory detox center.”
The silence across from him suddenly felt suffocating, piercing Fang Juexia’s chest with pain.
“Now, someone is blackmailing us with this incident. I have to… go public myself.” With every word spoken, he knew he was drilling into his mother’s heart, but he had no choice. He too wished this were all just a nightmare.
How he wished he never had a father like that, never had this illness that had tormented him for over a decade, never had this stain that could never be washed or dried away.
“I was afraid you’d see the news, so… so I had to tell you first.”
“Mom, I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry I ended up…
…shattering your dreams with my own hands.
