An incident of this magnitude is unlikely to be quelled by public opinion anytime soon. The PR team hired by Pei Tingsong is monitoring developments around the clock to prevent further complications.
Everyone knows Fang Juexia currently holds countless endorsements. Many haters have organized to cause trouble under brand accounts’ Weibo posts, demanding the replacement of the “tainted artist.” However, such actions have also sparked widespread dissatisfaction among bystanders. In the public’s view, the stain on Fang Juexia’s father cannot be transferred to him—this is precisely the root of his years of painful struggles. While the haters are numerous, they can never outnumber the neutral bystanders and his already massive fanbase.
The scene of him losing endorsements that haters hoped to see never materialized.
The day after the handwritten letter was released, Fang Juexia carried on as if nothing had happened, filming commercials as previously scheduled. Though the brand offered to postpone the shoot, he understood that preparing for a commercial shoot involved days of effort by the entire team. He couldn’t just drag others down like that.
Everyone on set maintained professional composure, showing no unusual signs. Xiao Wen stayed by Fang Juexia’s side throughout, while Fang himself remained his usual self—gentle, reserved, yet thoroughly dedicated.
As the makeup artist removed his makeup, she offered reassurance: “Today’s shoot went surprisingly smoothly.”
Fang Juexia smiled. “Yes, smoother than I expected.”
“What about the other members? Did they all have work today?”
Fang Juexia nodded. “Yes, and some are still in school.”
“Then make sure to get some rest early when you get back.”
“Alright, I will.”
Stepping out of the building where the shoot took place, Fang Juexia noticed a large crowd of reporters gathered outside, flashes going off relentlessly.
“Fang Juexia, could you please stay and say a few words?”
“Did you really never know about your father’s drug use? Did you ever see him using drugs with your own eyes!?”
“Astar’s stock has plummeted recently, with rumors of a change in leadership. Do you know anything about this, Fang Juexia? Are you just a pawn being pushed forward to deflect this scandal?”
“Some are questioning whether the night blindness you mentioned in your handwritten letter is fabricated. What’s your response?”
“Fang Juexia, have you seen the online rumors about AIDS? Can you explain why such rumors exist?”
Fang Juexia, wearing a mask and glasses, was practically carried by bodyguards through the swarm of unscrupulous reporters, finally reaching the waiting SUV outside.
Only after closing the car door did Fang Juexia finally breathe a sigh of relief.
The hands and cameras pressed against the window like monster tentacles, so close he couldn’t shake them off.
Xiao Wen, sitting in the passenger seat, turned and handed him a bottle of water. “Juexia, back to the company or the dorm?”
Fang Juexia took the water but didn’t drink. “Either is fine.”
His phone buzzed. He opened it to find a message from Zhai Ying.
[Zhai Ying: Juexia, didn’t want you to worry, so I’m letting you know first—I released your trainee video. I got my brother-in-law to pull it out.]
Trainee video?
Fang Juexia opened Weibo in confusion, just as Cheng Qiang’s call came in. He answered.
“Hey, Juexia? What’s up with that Astar monthly review video?”
“No idea. I’m still checking it out.” Fang Juexia tapped Weibo. Trending was #FangJuexiaTraineeVideo. Clicking in, he saw numerous marketing accounts posting the video with headlines like [Fang Juexia’s Trainee Video Monthly Review – Incredibly Talented!]
“Looks like… Zhai Ying got it out there,” Fang Juexia told Cheng Qiang. “I don’t have all the details yet.”
“Zhai Ying?” Cheng Qiang paused for a moment before realizing, “She’s helping you.”
It was indeed a compilation of his trainee-era footage. Astar held monthly group evaluations where trainees received rankings. Those who scored low three consecutive times risked leaving the company.
Fang Juexia was the sole trainee to maintain an A-rank for two straight years, consistently topping the overall rankings.
In the footage, he was still a teenager, a green kid. Yet his vocal and dance skills already surpassed so many active idols and singers that calling him the “ceiling” was no exaggeration.
This video proved why Fang Juexia was once dubbed AStar’s ace.
Due to recent public discourse, the comments section was flooded.
[@Shaky Shooting Star: Holy crap, that opening high note blew me away… How did he not debut with Astar??]
[@Just998Just998: Now I finally get why everyone calls Fang Juexia the idol ceiling. His looks and skills during trainee days were already unmatched—the textbook tragic beauty-and-talent combo.]
[@TodayIsAnotherTongTongDay: Holy crap, that final chart is insane. The only one in the entire company with consecutive A grades for two years straight. She’s the real ace—how did she become the discarded card?]
[@MyThirdIsStillKing Replies to @TodayIsAnotherTongTongDay: Who knows? At this level, if she still had a sponsor, she’d be skyrocketing to fame by now. Why did she flop right after debut?]
[@TimeIsRunningOut: Holy crap, I kinda want to follow fjx now too. Guess I’m just drawn to the strong.]
“After this video dropped, it crushed a lot of the under-the-table rumors. Now tons of people online are bashing Astar for having no taste or whatever. Pretty funny.” Cheng Qiang said from the other end. “Astar must be in a real mess right now. Heard big changes are coming soon.”
“Mhm.” Fang Juexia could probably guess.
Public opinion shifts faster than flipping a page. Fang Juexia had little interest in it anymore, but he was genuinely grateful to Zhai Ying for stepping up for him at this moment. He replied to her WeChat seriously, thanking her for standing up for him.
The car had been driving for a while, and traffic was a bit congested. Fang Juexia hadn’t slept in ages, yet he felt no drowsiness—only a stinging ache in his eyes. He closed them and leaned his head against the window. In a daze, he heard Xiao Wen answer a call and say something, but he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention.
With his eyes closed, Fang Juexia thought of Pei Tingsong. He recalled the feeling of their heads resting together on the bed, listening to him tell stories he’d never heard before. Not a single word was meant as comfort, yet every sentence felt like it was.
Every moment spent with Pei Tingsong, Fang Juexia treasured and tucked away. He was like a child collecting pretty candy wrappers—each one carefully smoothed and stored in a place only he knew.
When he felt sad, he’d take them out to look at them, and sometimes he could even catch a whiff of candy scent. Then he’d feel happy again. It was that simple.
He didn’t even need the person who gave him the candy to be by his side every moment.
“We’re here, Juexia.”
Xiao Wen’s voice was soft, probably thinking he was asleep. Fang Juexia opened his eyes, but as he pulled open the car door, he realized they weren’t at the company or the residential complex where his dorm was.
It was the parking lot of the luxury apartment complex where Pei Tingsong had once lived.
Fang Juexia turned to ask Xiao Wen, “Why are we here?”
“Xiao Pei just called me. He said he needed to see you. Since you finished work, we drove straight over.”
Something?
Fang Juexia was puzzled. He’d thought Xiao Wen would come upstairs with him, but instead, Xiao Wen sat back in the car. “Juexia, I just got a last-minute meeting call. I have to head back. If I’m late, Brother Qiang will scold me. I’ll have the driver come back for you later.”
“No need.” Fang Juexia shook his head. “I can take a taxi back.”
Only after Xiao Wen left did he head upstairs while dialing Pei Tingsong’s number. The first call went to busy, but the second connected just as Pei Tingsong opened the door.
“You’re here?” Pei Tingsong’s face lit up with a smile. He pulled Fang Juexia inside, then turned to fetch slippers from the shoe cabinet. As he bent down, Fang Juexia spotted the exam admission ticket tucked into his pants pocket.
“Finished the exam?” Fang Juexia asked.
“Yeah, the questions were easy. I finished half an hour early.” Pei Tingsong placed the slippers before him and was about to crouch down to untie his shoes when he suddenly seemed to remember something. Standing up, he whispered, “You change first.”
Fang Juexia felt something was off, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Pei Tingsong seemed flustered and disheveled. After changing his shoes, Fang followed him from the entryway to the living room, where the aroma of simmering soup wafted through the air.
“Auntie, Brother Juexia is back.”
Auntie??
Fang Juexia froze, unable to process it. The next second, his mother appeared before him. Her apron still tied around her waist, she rushed forward and embraced him.
“Juexia, you’re back.”
Held in his mother’s arms, Fang Juexia’s eyes widened in disbelief, as if in a dream. He stared blankly at Pei Tingsong standing beside him, watching him smile and take Fang’s arm to help him embrace his mother.
“Mom…” Feeling her shoulders tremble, Fang Juexia held her tighter, patting her back. “Why did you come so suddenly? I didn’t even know.”
Fang’s mother loosened her embrace slightly, lifted her head to wipe the tears from the corners of her eyes, and smiled at her son. “Little Pei specially invited me to Beijing. He told me so much.” She also looked at Pei Tingsong. “Mum missed you too. I didn’t want to wait for you at home like before. I had to come see you.”
Fang Juexia felt a lump in his throat.
He lay awake every night, not because he feared online attacks or worried about his uncertain future. It was the fear of his mother, alone in Guangzhou. The thought of her sitting at home, witnessing the ashes of her decade-long wait, then facing the deluge of news articles about him—each filled with exaggerated, baseless slander—terrified him. What would she think? How much would it hurt her?
Would she lose her appetite? Would she lose sleep?
But Fang Juexia was always timid when facing his mother. He didn’t know how to show concern or mend a family bond already so badly damaged.
Pei Tingsong did it for him.
He always knew what Fang Juexia feared most, what he needed most.
“Mom stewed you some chicken with fish maw, added safflower, dried scallops, and sea cucumber—it’s very nourishing.” At this point, Fang’s mother hurried back to check the stove. “Wait, I’ll just see how the fire is. Sit down first. Little Pei just picked me up from the airport too. You two rest a bit.”
Fang Juexia watched his mother dive back into the kitchen, leaving him in Pei Tingsong’s care. He felt both helpless and slightly amused. Pei Tingsong glanced back furtively, confirming Fang’s mother was out of sight, then swiftly kissed the corner of Fang Juexia’s eye.
Such a bold move made Fang Juexia’s heart nearly leap out of his chest. He gave Pei Tingsong’s arm a gentle twist before walking over to sit on the sofa. Pei Tingsong settled down beside him, smiling without speaking.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Fang Juexia demanded, turning to confront him.
Pei Tingsong snorted. “Seriously? Who plans surprises and gives advance notice? Think this is Singles’ Day? Like merchants bombarding you with texts before sales, ‘Everyone come! Midnight surprise!’”
What a bizarre analogy.
He was actually a bit afraid Fang Juexia would blame him for meddling. After all, Fang always handled everything alone, never seeming to need anyone’s help. But Pei Tingsong felt so helpless. Every day, lying in bed, he’d picture Fang Juexia making that call at the staircase corner, crying in his arms, terrified his mother would be upset.
Pei Tingsong felt compelled to act. He couldn’t bear to see Fang Juexia hurt or worried—not even for one more day.
That’s why he acted decisively, tracking down Fang’s mother’s contact information to tell her that Fang Juexia truly missed her and desperately needed her presence.
Fang’s mother was also restless at home, constantly checking online updates yet too afraid to reach out to her son. Though both mother and son shared the same heartache, neither could bring themselves to speak first. Upon hearing Pei Tingsong describe her son’s situation, she barely hesitated before boarding the first flight he arranged to rush to Beijing.
It was indeed a passionate act for his beloved, but Pei Tingsong couldn’t help but worry—was this just wishful thinking on his part? After all, he was the impulsive type who acted on instinct, whereas Fang Juexia was not.
Doubt began to surface, but Pei Tingsong didn’t want to dwell on it. He quickly changed the subject. “Hey, about that essay question today…”
Mid-sentence, his hand resting on the sofa was covered by another slender, pale one. Fang Juexia leaned closer, his gaze gentle, his tone soft as he murmured, “Thank you.”
Pei Tingsong froze instantly, the first half of his sentence forgotten.
“Thank you.” Fang Juexia had a habit of repeating important words. The warmth from his palm transferred to hers, and the smile on his face was the most genuine Pei Tingsong had seen in days—not the feigned “I’m fine,” but the real Fang Juexia.
“Seeing Mom come over made me so happy.” Fang Juexia’s fingers gently interlaced with Pei Tingsong’s, his eyes reddening again.
Pei Tingsong’s heart clenched instantly. He cupped Fang Juexia’s face with both hands and whispered a warning, “Don’t cry.”
His cheeks squished into an odd shape as he sniffed. “But you said you liked seeing me cry.”
Only at certain times… Pei Tingsong stopped himself. Hearing Mrs. Fang’s footsteps approaching, he quickly released his grip and stood up nervously.
“Little Pei, do we have any small stoves or something like that at home?”
“Stoves?” Pei Tingsong had no idea what she was talking about, darting around like a headless fly. Fang Juexia knew their household situation better than he did. “No, Mom. Let’s skip the hotpot. Just have soup and vegetables.”
Pei Tingsong was surprised. “How did you know what your mom was planning? I didn’t understand a word.”
“Of course I did. I’m her son,” Fang Juexia whispered.
The two helped Mrs. Fang serve dishes and set the table, then sat down to enjoy a proper meal of their mother’s cooking. Since the incident, Fang Juexia hadn’t been able to eat much, but with his mother present, he ate more than usual and even had an extra bowl of soup.
This was the second time Pei Tingsong had joined them for a meal, chatting and sharing ordinary family moments like any other household. Only this time, Pei Tingsong felt a quiet hope stirring within him. If one day he confessed everything to this mother, would she still accept him with the same warmth and kindness she showed now?
After the meal, Pei Tingsong helped Mrs. Fang clear the dishes into the kitchen. Standing by the table, Fang Juexia remembered something and pulled out his phone. “Mom, I still need to book you a hotel.”
“No need!” Pei Tingsong called out from the living room. “I’ve already arranged it—it’s right next door.”
“Next door?” Fang Juexia walked into the kitchen to find the two men washing dishes side by side, looking more like mother and son than anything else. “How do you manage to make these apartments feel like hotels every single time?”
“Ah, well… it’s rented,” Pei Tingsong offered an excuse.
“Little Pei is so thoughtful, he had everything ready for me long ago,” Mrs. Fang said after washing the last bowl, turning to Fang Juexia. “He said staying here is convenient and safe. There might be reporters at a hotel—I hadn’t even thought of that at first. Plus, you can stay with me here.”
Fang Juexia nodded. “Mhm.”
After washing the dishes, Pei Tingsong emerged from the kitchen only to be grabbed again by Fang Juexia. “Just rented it? And it’s next door?”
Pei Tingsong gave a sheepish smile. “You’re really sharp.”
Fang Juexia stared at him motionless, saying nothing. Seeing Pei Tingsong helpless—wanting to hug but unable to—he leaned closer and whispered his confession, “Actually… this entire building is mine.”
Sure enough.
Fang Juexia recalled his first visit, when he’d said he was different from other rich kids, content to live in a two-bedroom apartment despite his wealth.
He’d been too naive.
Fortunately, the other members had personal commitments nearby, leaving the dorm empty except for him. Fang Juexia could stay here a few more days with his mother. While they ate, Pei Tingsong had already arranged for the adjacent unit to be cleared out. Leading his mother over, Fang Juexia spotted a large bouquet of snow-white bellflowers on the coffee table the moment they entered the living room.
A smile involuntarily curved his lips.
Surrounded by schedules and camera flashes, Fang Juexia hadn’t experienced this kind of life in ages—being cared for by his mother, listening to her ramble about family matters, the students she couldn’t seem to teach, and the troublemakers in her class.
Just hearing her talk made Fang Juexia feel safe.
Closing his eyes, he imagined himself lying beneath the full, white light of day.
No darkness existed—only warmth all around.
While the outside world raged with storm and tempest, Fang Juexia, the tormented eye of the storm, drifted into a deep sleep at dusk. He slept alongside the orange sunset as it vanished beyond the horizon, cradled by his mother’s presence.
Even dreams spared him, offering no disturbance.
The low point felt like the rainy season—when it arrived, it seemed poised to smother every pore, leaving one utterly breathless. His life was flooded with cold rain, suffocating him.
Yet the clear skies after the storm were so beautiful—the blue heavens reborn after the storm, the air carrying the scent of fresh grass.
He loved the aftermath of rain, willing to endure a downpour for that moment.
He slept until half past midnight. For some reason, Fang Juexia suddenly woke up, feeling thirsty. Climbing out of bed, he walked to the next room and saw his mother fast asleep. He quietly closed the door and headed to the living room.
He opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of water, but paused before unscrewing the cap.
His arm hung suspended in midair for a few seconds before dropping back down.
Pei Tingsong sat in his study reviewing documents when the doorbell suddenly rang. Checking the time, he found it odd. Walking to the door and glancing at the monitor, he saw Fang Juexia standing there in his pajamas.
His mood ignited instantly, like a sky lantern poised to take flight.
“What brings you here?”
Fang Juexia stepped inside, his tone as cool and unruffled as ever, yet his face held a smile. “Thirsty. Wanted some water.”
It was almost like he was being playful.
Pei Tingsong closed the door, stepping closer. With his glasses on, he looked quite refined, yet the way he raised his eyebrow carried a hint of a young master’s air. “Just thirsty?”
“Mhm.” Fang Juexia looked at him, his gaze appearing utterly sincere.
“Okay.” Pei Tingsong turned away and returned shortly with a glass of sweet orange juice—Fang Juexia’s favorite—served in his signature frosted blue mug.
“Here.” Pei Tingsong handed it over.
Fang Juexia murmured a quiet thank you, took it with both hands, and gulped it down in one go. Then he looked up, dead serious. “Is it because I just woke up? This tastes kinda weird.”
Pei Tingsong raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. He simply took the cup from Fang Juexia’s hands to inspect it. The juice had been drained completely.
How thirsty could he be? Strange he drank it all.
“What does it taste like?” Curiosity piqued, Pei Tingsong prepared to pour himself another glass to check if he’d bought the wrong brand. Unexpectedly, his hand was seized. Turning his head, Fang Juexia pressed his lips to Pei Tingsong’s, holding him by the shoulders.
The taste of orange juice mingled with the softness of his tongue, like moonlight sneaking in at half past midnight—sweet, cool, not ice but ice cream melting in the warm, moist cavity, stirring everything into a sweet, fluttering heartbeat.
The kiss was brief, yet it marked Fang Juexia’s first initiative.
He retreated to a safe distance, gazing at Pei Tingsong and feigning composure. “Did you taste it?”
Pei Tingsong stood dazed, nodding at the question while still clutching the same blank-faced mug.
“I’ll be going now,” Fang Juexia blinked. “Good night.”
He should have been a more decisive thief.
After committing the heinous act of stealing a heart, he should have slipped away promptly. Lingering too long, clinging to too much reluctance, only led to being caught.
Fang Juexia was swept up in Pei Tingsong’s arms, left with nowhere to run. He was tossed onto the bed, pinned beneath him, his heart pounding like a true criminal—guilt and desire tangled together.
“You’ve really become quite skilled lately,” Pei Tingsong murmured, his dark pupils reflecting Fang Juexia’s face.
Knowing he’d come looking for him the moment he woke, and now even learning to tease him.
Fang Juexia’s lips curved into a smile as he accepted Pei Tingsong’s insincere compliment. “Bad company corrupts good character.”
Moonlight slipped through the curtain’s slits, peering at the lovers’ embrace before settling on the abandoned glasses on the nightstand, casting mottled reflections.
The early hours were always Fang Juexia’s most vulnerable time. He needed a tight embrace, needed fiery passion.
Everything he needed, Pei Tingsong possessed.
Fang Juexia was the coastline beneath the night sky, repeatedly drenched by the tides.
“Thank you,” he murmured, clinging to Pei Tingsong.
Such gratitude might seem like mere courtesy to many, a formality, but Pei Tingsong understood it was love.
Because he felt the same way, day after day, grateful that Fang Juexia had entered his life.
Fearing his mother might wake too early, Fang Juexia didn’t linger long. At three in the morning, he took a quick shower, then emerged to rummage through Pei Tingsong’s wardrobe for a change of clothes.
Pei Tingsong sat on the bedside with a pout, tugging at Fang Juexia’s sleeve. “Stay in my place, wear my clothes, sleep with me, then run off after we’re done.”
Fang Juexia stifled a laugh, offering no defense. He turned back and kissed his lips. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you.” Pei Tingsong gave his hand one last tug and kissed the back of it.
For the next two days, Fang Juexia returned to the apartment early after work to keep his mother company, baking pastries and simmering soup with her. Worried she might get bored, Pei Tingsong even took the opportunity to explore P University while Fang Juexia was out—it was a must-visit spot for any Beijing tourist anyway.
Online rumors continued to simmer, but Fang Juexia, one of the parties involved, no longer felt anxious about them. He knew exactly how those people would curse and gossip—it was all familiar territory. So he stopped being afraid.
On the day the six members reunited for a magazine shoot, Fang Juexia had barely stepped into the studio when he overheard a female assistant photographer murmuring with someone else.
“Oh my god, is that even real? There’s been way too much drama lately.”
Fang Juexia felt utterly drained. But the next sentence made his heart skip a beat.
“I just saw it on my feed and thought I was seeing things—Liang Ruo actually quit Seven Stars!”
